Flee Omega Flee (Book #2)

(3) Flee Omega Flee

Chapter 3.

                There was a knock on the door, and I paused what I was doing. When I realized that someone had obviously wanted to enter, I grabbed all the note cards and sheets of paper and stuffed it in the desk drawer. After securely locking it, as if a lock would keep out any werewolf, I called for the person to enter.

                Yes, I had my own office that I was going to be using when I became Alpha. It was in the basement, not far from my father’s office. This was my grandfathers, and from the looks of the furniture, this room had been used more times than I would know. His name is Patrick, and I see him around as often as I can. He ran the pack during World War II from what I’ve been told, and has already reached his hundredth birthday. However like most wolves, he aged slower and doesn’t look a day over fifty. He’s a wise man, and I listen to whatever he has to say. He is the only man I will ever have my full attention on.

                “Clayton?” A voice trembled, and I snapped out of my thoughts when I saw my beautiful mate with tear streaked cheeks looking over at me. One hand was gripped the doorknob, while the other was grasping the edge of the door as if it was the only way she could hold herself up.

                I leaped out of my chair and strode as fast as I could over to her. She released the door the moment I engulfed her in a hug. London was shaking all over, and her hair was slightly damp from the shower she had obviously taken. But I knew, she wasn’t cold. Her hands were clammy as they connected with my neck, which made me shiver as it sizzled off my warm skin.

                “What’s wrong baby?” I asked gently removing her head from my neck as I locked eyes with her. They were all puffy and red, and I had to hold my wolf back from snarling angrily about our upset mate. “Did someone do something?”

                She shook her head violently. “I decided to try and sleep without you there but…” A sob cut her off and she buried her head in my chest. I hushed her gently, and attempted to soothe her as best as I could. When London seemed to calm down enough she closed her eyes and spoke again. “I had a nightmare.”

                Thing is about London is that she may put on a strong façade, but she gets scared beyond belief at the smallest things. She was scared of the dark until she turned nine, but by then she had seen the corpse and was scared of anything dead. Her wolf refused to kill and hunt anything when she shifted, and is still like that. This is the reason why my mate is a vegetarian, which is more than rare for a werewolf. She is far too scared to see something dead, and I never eat a hamburger or anything related to meat in front of her.

                “What was it about?” I asked gently. If she was this traumatized than it had to have involved death. She wouldn’t sleep for days after she had a nightmare relating to them, and I would stay up with her as well. Reason why she loves the very word coffee.

                “It was about your sister.” She sobbed, and I froze. Was I too late? Had she been killed before I could even find her? No, it was just a dream. “I was back when we were younger, when she was on that rock completely…” She couldn’t even say the words that described what had happened.

                “Then this girl appeared, and claimed herself as being Lilura.” The name was like a punch to the stomach, and I suddenly became furious. Was this witch now haunting my mate? “She said something along the lines of ‘The daughter’s parents find the missing, forgiveness hopeful, with an island of regret’. I don’t know what she means by that.”