His Omega's Keeper

“But—” I began, determined to try again anyway.

“You’ll understand after you have your own first Heat Cycle,” Ophelia informed me. “Watch your step, please—some of these are rotten.”

We were climbing the sagging front porch steps to the dilapidated house now and she courteously took my arm and guided me, telling me where to step so I didn’t put my bare feet through rotten wood.

I was shivering and also nearly bursting with the need to pee by the time we finally got inside. The front door creaked like a haunted house, I swear. And honestly, that was what Tainer’s home reminded me of—an old, abandoned place that the kids in any neighborhood would dare each other to go in on Halloween night.

“Come with me please—you’ll be staying on the upper level,” Ophelia spoke calmly and graciously—like we were in a high-end hotel and she was the concierge leading me to my room.

We passed through a rough living room of sorts—there was a fireplace with embers glowing red in the grate and a large, worn rag rug on the bare boards of the floor. In the dim light I could see a broken-down couch that might have been maroon once but now was more of a faded brown. There was a rocking chair that looked like it might have been handmade and a banjo propped in one corner.

Seriously, a banjo? We were deep in trouble here, I thought. I had seen that old movie, Deliverance, as part of a film class I took as a fun extra credit Summer course. I could just imagine Tainer telling someone to, “Squeal like a pig, boy!” while he did unspeakable things to them. The mental image made me shudder.

After passing through the living room—which was, at least, sort of warm—Ophelia led me to a sagging staircase that hugged one wall like a drunk about to fall down.

“Uh, are you sure it’s safe to go up these stairs?” I asked, eyeing them uncertainly. “They look like they’re going to fall over any minute.”

“It’s perfectly safe as long as we go single file and don’t stand on the same step at the same time,” she said calmly. “Come—the bathroom facilities are upstairs.”

I had to admit, those were the magic words. I didn’t want to go any further into the haunted-house-slash-hillbilly-holler that Tainer had set up here, but I also needed to pee so badly my eyeballs were just about floating. Plus, these people had Jake and they had already assured me they had no problem hurting him, so what else could I do?

Reluctantly, I allowed Ophelia—was that her real name, I wondered?—to shepherd me up the stairs. We got to the second floor, but she indicated we should keep going.

“We’ve put you on the attic level,” she said, again like she was someone working in a posh hotel. “It’s a self-contained apartment with its own restroom facilities.”

So up another flight we went until we reached a trapdoor in the ceiling with a long, frayed cord hanging down from it.

Ophelia reached up and grabbed the cord, pulling the heavy old trapdoor down with little apparent effort. She manhandled the heavy wooden ladder that was folded up inside it into position just as easily. Huh. I made a mental note that she was much stronger than she appeared.

“After you,” she said politely, gesturing to the attic stairs.

I really didn’t like this. I didn’t like the idea of being shut up in the attic, trapped with my brother, who I was apparently going to be expected to sleep with. We were only a wicked grandmother and some poison-laced powdered donuts away from being in a V.C. Andrews novel!

“Look,” I said, playing for time. “I don’t know if this is the best place for us. I have a, uh, fear of heights, you know? Maybe you could find a room for us that’s a little lower? Like maybe the ground floor?”

“I’m afraid that’s impossible—the other bedrooms are already taken,” she said politely. “But I think you’ll like the attic setup—I cleaned and decorated it myself.” She leaned closer to me as though imparting a secret and whispered, “Between you and me, Tainer isn’t exactly the best housekeeper and I didn’t want the savior of our race to be conceived in filth and squalor.”

The savior of our race? Whoo-boy—she was definitely drinking the Kool-Aid.

“That’s, uh, very kind of you,” I said, trying to smile. “But I’m really just not comfortable so high up.”

“Please go up to the attic,” Ophelia said in that calm, quiet voice of hers. “I really wouldn’t want to have to radio Tainer than you weren’t behaving. He’s still holding the Absent Alpha’s Heir. You know—the future father of your children?”

She patted a bulky black walkie-talkie that was clipped to her belt. I hadn’t noticed it earlier, but when she touched it, it let out a static-y hiss, like a sleepy snake that’s been disturbed.