Page 5 of Indigo

“God, Hank, are you okay?” Salem asks as she’s leaving her room.

I dip my chin. “Nothing to worry about.”

Other Omegas ask the same as I make my miserable walk to the end of the hall and keep vague with a closed-lip smile. Non-threatening. Only when I finally reach my room and close the door behind me do I let out the curse stuck in my throat.

“Fuck!”

The phantom of her soft body against mine is torture, a vivid reminder that yes, I loved the excuse to have her against me. I’m a pig. Anger oozes from me as I start to remove my boots, so fucking soaked I’m sure they are beyond help. I stalk through the bathroom, throwing the wet items of clothes in the tub as I curse myself again and again.

The moment my eyes landed on her, I was a goner. She stumbled out of the van, grabbing Salem’s hand and quickly positioning herself in front of them. She had to be fucking five foot tall, but she didn’t seem to care. She scowled at me when I moved closer like a beast protecting their young. Her face was soft, her eyes so breathtakingly beautiful pools of the darkest blue, and her attitude. Damn, it gets hard every time.

What kind of asshole acts like that?

Panting, I lean over the sink, squeezing my eyes shut, but she’s printed under my eyelids. The softness of her curves, the swell of her breasts and the curve of her hip. Even with the chlorine, I could scent her sweetness of a ripe peach above it all. I grunt in desperation, and my cock swells painfully hard, making me hate myself just a little bit more.

Why can I just protect her and leave it at that? Hasn't she suffered enough? My knuckles turn white from gripping the marble. I lift my head and look right into my own eyes, hoping the disgust I feel is enough to will my cock down.

“Come on, asshole. She’s not for you.”

But it doesn’t matter how much I hate myself. My cock just loves Indigo.

four

Indigo

When I was five years old, someone finally bothered to give me a name. She was only a teen. I don’t even rememberhername, but she told me my eyes were gorgeous and called me Indigo. I didn’t argue. I wanted to be a person, and having a name seemed to be the first step toward that particular goal.

After years of being nothing but the Poisonous Omega, it feels like the title is embedded within my own sense of self. Which means, even though I’m free, I’m just as prickly as before. I’m just as difficult as ever.I can’t relax.

Freedom—or whatever this weird reality we have in this motel—gets you thinking. Back in the breeding house, when I wasn’t quietly doing my chores, my mind wouldn’t rest. I was constantly finding ways to survive the next sunrise, looking over my shoulder and panicking. But here, I can do whatever I want. Most Omegas have understood that quickly and flourished almost to their full potential in the past four months.

Not me.

Every menial task leaves me anxious. Even as I step out of the breakfast line looking for Journey’s auburn hair, I’m also checking every entry. Colt is stationed at the side door, while Stetson is on the rear. My heart rate climbs as I frantically try to find Hank, Cassidy, or Nash.

Who cares about them anyway?

Regardless of my lack of enthusiasm for life, Hank overreacted last night. I didn’t mean to be that short with him, but still I was allowed to feel upset when he tried to rescue me from the only time of peace I have.

So really, it’s not that I care about them, but more that it’s best that I don’t see them for a while. My thoughts are still on the pack when I find Journey and the others and head their way. She’s with Salem and Nova like any other day. I love Journey, but unlike me, she tends to like people. She’s made friends since we got here, so I guess that means I have my meals with a group now. I open my mouth to say good morning, but I notice that they are all deep into talking, leaning over the table in rushed whispers.

“What’s going on?” I ask, taking a seat.

“We are just speculating.”

My eyebrows shoot up, and I lower my voice to match theirs. “About what?”

Salem shrugs. “About how long we have until this falls apart.”

My frown deepens, and Journey comes to the rescue, explaining their thoughts. “There are rumors the Alliance is gone.”

“What do you mean by gone?” I ask.

Salem sucks in a breath, but it’s her roommate Nova who interrupts her. I like Nova enough. Her nose is always stuck in a book, a pencil perched between her braids and her ears as she annotates every page. She’s quiet. I like that.

“I don’t think they’re gone.” Nova frowns. “But there are rumors that they are not that invested in our rescue.”

I huff, not surprised. I never believed in superheroes, and even when those two Alphas barged in and rescued us all, I still didn’t quite believe it. In a way, I still don’t. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.