Page 109 of Rest In Knotty Pieces

I creep into the room and push the pillow aside, picking up a shiny silver spoon.

“Do you think an omega like me would have a heat?” I ask to the alpha shadowing me. His scent teases my senses.

“I don’t know,” Sage says. He walks in and stands beside me.

“I don’t know who would have it or if we all would. Maybe we’re too broken. We feel it sometimes, but it never stays, it never turns into anything but a flash burn that is there and gone.”

“Something horrible happened to you, and you survived. You don’t need a heat to be an omega. Whether you have one or not is irrelevant.”

“That’s very kind of you to say, Sage. I feel like we could almost be friends.” It’s no fun teasing him when he just stares at me with such a somber expression.

“It’s not kind, it’s the truth.”

I go to toss the spoon down, but Merle makes a sound of protest. I hesitate and then place it back and return the pillow gently over her hoard.

“Why does she collect silver things?”

Memories push into my head, a shed that never sees daylight, the dirt under our bare feet. Chains on the doors that rattle in the wind or when he comes. The perpetual dark that was scary but became safety.

“We lived in a dark place. There was dirt and occasionally metal things that we would find: bottle tops, glass fragments, screws. She liked the way they shone, and she would take them all and gather them up into small piles. It was so funny, this one time when Robin-”

I stop, the blood draining from my head. The name echoes and echoes. The room spins and twists, my head aches, and then it’s all gone.

“Kestrel?”

I blink and put a hand to my head. “Sorry, that was a quick change. I, um, don’t know what happened. Uh, what were we talking about?”

Sage glances around, holds out his hand. “Shall we go eat?”

“Sure,” I say, but when I look back at the bed, I’m confused that I feel sick. I shake it off and follow the alpha away from whatever upset me enough that one of us came and stole the memory away.

I follow him out to the kitchen and pull myself up onto the counter, swinging my legs as I watch Sage confidently prowl around his kitchen.

“You smile too much, but when you forget there are people watching, you have a fierce glare.” I tell him my observations without bias, just simply stating facts.

“Perhaps I am simply annoyed that I don't have anyone to maim.”

I throw my head back, laughing. “Nah, I don’t think so. You have deep, unhappy thoughts. What goes on in your brain, Sage Prince? You’re the older cousin, word on the street is that you are a trained killer. That from the time you were a child, you were kept on a leash, learning to be an attack dog. Is that true?”

His shoulders have relaxed, and his body is deceptively still.

“And where did you get that information from, Miss I’m Just Another Alter?”

I lean back, closing my eyes, making myself vulnerable. “Maybe I recognise the way you move. Maybe I can see the way you scan a room, the way your eyes linger on things that could be considered weapons. Frying pan, glass, the serving spoon.”

He has moved closer, but I can’t tell how close until he speaks right between my legs, his mouth almost pressed to mine. “The corner of the island, the sink, the bleach.”

I smile, still refusing to open my eyes.

“Who trained you how to kill, Omega?” his lip grazes mine, just a hint of pressure that sends slithers of excitement through me. “Give me a name.”

“Does the dog ever know the name of its master?”

“Is he still your master?” Sage growls.

“I don’t have a master anymore. I bit through my leg, I’m free.” My skin crawls, and I look away, a burn of shame making me unable to look at him. “But maimed now.”

His hand shackles my throat. “Look at me.”