Midlife Omega (Midlife Shifters Book 3)

by J. L. Wilder

  He forced himself to wait.

  But he tracked them across the lobby as they crossed it and got into an elevator. As soon as the elevator doors closed, he got up and bolted across the lobby. He stood beside the elevator they’d taken, watching the number that flashed above the elevator and reported what floor it was on, waiting to see where it would stop.

  Chapter Four

  NATALIE

  Natalie scrambled to her feet, spinning to face the bartender.

  He laughed. She felt a chill shoot down her spine. He was so utterly different from the man she had met down at the bar that she could hardly believe she was looking at the same person. He had been friendly, easygoing, flirtatious. She had enjoyed his company. She had been excited about the prospect of spending more time with him.

  But now, he looked cruel. His face was twisted into an expression of utter contempt. Looking at him now, Natalie couldn’t believe that she had ever thought of him as charming and trustworthy.

  It was clear that he hated her.

  But why, when he didn’t even know her?

  She opened her mouth, but he held up a hand. “You want to be quiet, omega,” he said, his voice ominous. “I don’t want to hurt you. But if you being conscious puts me at risk, I’m not opposed to the idea of knocking you out until we get away from here.”

  "Where are we going?” she whispered, terrified. She knew enough to know that the worst thing you could do, if you were taken captive, was to be taken to a second location. As long as she was at the hotel, there was hope that this nightmare would come to an end. But if he took her somewhere else...well, who knew what would happen then?

  He ignored her question and began rooting around through the possessions she’d left on top of the dresser. Her wallet was there, and he opened it, took out all her cash, and stuffed it into his pocket.

  Take the money and go, she thought desperately. Just take it and go.

  He stripped off his shirt, and for a moment, the fear that gripped her was so potent she couldn’t breathe. But he was just turning it inside out, concealing a stain on the pocket.

  He doesn’t want anyone to notice him. In a nice hotel like this, someone walking around with a stain on his shirt would be noticed. Which meant they were probably going to leave through the lobby. They were going to walk past other people.

  That will be my chance. That will be the only opportunity I have to let someone know what’s happening to me.

  It was terrifying. She would have to shout out, in front of a lobby of people, that she was being kidnapped. She would have to do it while he had his hands on her body.

  He won’t hurt me. Not in front of other people. He won’t be able to.

  God, she hoped that was true.

  Her heart was beating madly, and she felt dizzy and sick with fear. She wanted to lie down and close her eyes. But she couldn’t. She needed to keep it together if she was going to get out of this.

  She looked up at her captor.

  He had a tattoo, she realized suddenly. It was on the back of his neck, and when he put the shirt back on, it was concealed. But she’d seen it. It was a simple peaked line, sketching the outline of a mountain range. And on top of the tallest peak sat a line drawing of a wolf, its head tipped back, howling at the sky.

  A wolf tattoo.

  She turned her arm slightly, glancing down at her own tattoo, the breaking wave that seemed to morph midway into the head of a wolf. She’d had that tattoo as long as she could remember. Since she was a little kid. It had always struck her as bizarre—who the hell puts a tattoo on a little kid?—but she had always liked her tattoo. Even though she didn’t know why she had it, it felt like a part of who she was.

  It’s probably just a coincidence, she told herself. I’m sure lots of people have wolf tattoos. It’s got to be a really popular image. And it's not as if it’s the same tattoo.

  Still, it was strange. Kidnapped by a person whose body art seemed to mirror her own...there was something especially frightening about that. Especially since Natalie didn’t know where her own tattoo had come from.

  I wonder if he knows, she thought and shivered.

  “All right, omega,” he said, turning back to her. “Here’s the plan.”

  “Why do you keep calling me that?” she whispered. It was the second time he’d used the term, and she didn’t understand what he meant by it. It felt rude—he was spitting it at her as if he was calling her a crude name.

  He ignored her question. “You’ll want clothes for the road," he said. “You should put a couple of things in a backpack, if you have one. Do you have one?”

  “No.”

  “Then you’ll just have to go without.” He grabbed her pea coat from the hook by the door and threw it at her, and she caught it automatically. “Put that on,” he said. “I don’t want anyone getting a good look at you when we leave. And put the hood up too. Your picture’s been all over the news.”

  She didn’t understand. Her picture might have been published when she’d been nominated for the Lister Prize, but most people outside the publishing industry had never even heard of that prize. It wasn’t as if she was famous now. Nobody was going to recognize her by sight.

  “Put it on,” her captor barked.

  Nauseous with fear, Natalie did as she'd been told.

  “I’ve got a gun in my pocket,” he said, resting a hand on his hip. Natalie saw a bulge there and felt faint. She was sure he was telling the truth. “If you try anything funny—if you try to shift at any time—I won’t hesitate to use it. If you think I’m afraid to pull out a gun in the lobby of this hotel, you’re wrong.”

  What does he mean by shift? She was too afraid to ask. He must have been warning her not to try to escape. That was the only thing she could think of.

  But she would have to try to escape. No matter what he did to her there, it couldn’t possibly be as bad as what would happen if he were to get her to a second location.

  Unless he kills me.

  He wouldn’t. He had shown her the gun to scare her into compliance, but he wouldn’t actually pull out a gun and shoot her in the middle of the hotel lobby. That would be insane.

  Maybe he’s insane.

  Her entire body was shaking. She didn’t know what to think, what to do. Calling out for help when she got down to the lobby seemed like her only choice—but what if she was choosing wrong?

  Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp knock at the door.

  Housekeeping. Could she be saved by something so simple?

  Her captor held a firm finger to his lips. His hand came to rest on the shape of the gun in his pocket. She understood. Shooting her in the lobby might pose a problem, but he would have no issue with shooting her upstairs.

  The knock sounded again.

  They’re going to come in if he doesn’t answer, Natalie thought. That’s what housekeeping does. If the room is empty, they come in to clean it.

  Then her eyes darted to the digital clock by the bed. It was after eleven in the evening. Housekeeping didn’t come at this time of night, did they?

  Just don’t make a sound. He thinks whoever it is will go away if we’re quiet, but they won’t. They’ll come in, and I’ll be saved.

  Her heart raced. Please, please let them come in.

  A third knock.

  “Come back later,” Natalie’s captor called, and Natalie’s heart sank.

  There was a long silence, in which it seemed that Natalie and her captor were both holding their breath, both waiting to see what would happen next.

  Something heavy slammed against the door, causing it to shudder in its frame.

  Natalie’s captor whipped out his gun and scrambled over to stand in front of the door.

  The door was struck again. This time it fell inward, off its hinges, crashing to the floor. Natalie let out a shriek. Her captor was forced to take a few steps backward to avoid being hit.

  Natalie scurried behind the bed, aware as she did so that another man was
entering the room. She heard the sound of a body being thrown to the ground, of fists meeting flesh, and knew that a fight had broken out.

  What the hell is going on?

  She was so confused, and so far outside anything she had experienced before in her life. She couldn’t make sense of it. What would make this newcomer break into her hotel room and, without exchanging a single word, start attacking the man he had found inside?

  Her mind was racing too quickly for analysis. She didn’t have a hope of trying to figure it out. All she could manage was to huddle in the corner between the bed and the wall and hope that, when all was said and done, she would be left alone.

  She heard the heavy sound of a body falling to the ground.

  Her stomach lurched.

  “Natalie?” a voice said.

  It wasn’t her captor. That was the first thing she noticed. The tone was a bit lower, a bit gruffer.

  Then the more obvious fact registered. How does he know my name?

  He was kneeling beside her, suddenly, holding out a hand. “We need to get out of here, okay?” he asked urgently.

  She looked up at him and gasped.

  It was the young man from the bar. The one who had been staring at her so openly.

  He seemed to understand. “I’m sorry I scared you,” he said. “I didn’t mean to. But listen—we need to get out of here right now. That man will have told his friends about you, and they’ll be on their way. It’s not safe for you to stay in this hotel.”

  “I can’t,” she whispered. “I have the ceremony tomorrow...” It was shocking to her that the ceremony still felt important, and yet it did. Maybe it was just because the ceremony was something from her normal life, before everything had gone crazy.

  The man shook his head. “I’m afraid you can’t stay for that,” he said. “They’re going to come and kidnap you, Natalie. They’re not going to give up. But I can get you to safety.”

  “How can I trust you?” she asked. “How do you know who I am?”

  The man rolled up the right sleeve of the shirt he was wearing.

  Natalie gasped.

  High on his bicep was a tattoo just like the one on her wrist.

  “I’m on your side,” he said quietly. “I’m a part of your pack, Natalie. That’s how I know who you are. You can trust me.”

  “A part of my pack?” she asked numbly.

  “We have to get out of here,” he said, taking her hand and pulling her to her feet. “You shouldn’t have given that interview to the magazine. You’re not safe here anymore. If you come with me, I can get you to safety.”

  “What if I don’t want to go with you?” she said.

  “You can leave at any time,” he said. “I’m not going to stop you. But let’s at least go to a bar and talk, okay? It’ll be safer than here, and you can decide whether you want to stick with me or not.”

  He’s trying to take me to a second location. This isn’t any different. I haven’t been saved at all.

  But it felt different. Maybe it was the way he looked at her, or maybe it was the tattoo that matched her own, but her instincts were telling her to trust him.

  “All right,” she said. “But I choose the bar.”

  Chapter Five

  OZZY

  The bar she chose was within five minutes of the hotel, a fact that made Ozzy nervous. Her smell was so potent. He had had no trouble in finding her. If more of the Rocky Mountain Wolves came looking for her, they would surely find her quickly too.

  And they’d have even more of a reason to hurry after they saw that he had left one of their packmates unconscious on a hotel room floor.

  But if he couldn't win Natalie’s trust, there was no chance of getting her to follow him all the way back to Washington. Already she was suspicious of him, and he didn’t blame her. She’d been taken captive, very nearly kidnapped. Of course it was difficult for her to place her trust in anyone right now.

  “What can I get you to drink?” he asked.

  “I don't want to drink.” She was looking around the bar, and he could tell by the places her eyes landed that she was making note of possible exits. Of course, he’d done the same thing when they had come in. They were very near the back door, which would lead out onto an alley and get them out of there quickly.

  “You should have something,” Ozzy said. “You’ve been through an ordeal. I don’t want you going into shock. Will you at least drink a soda?”

  She nodded. It was such a small gesture that he hardly saw it. But it was enough. He raised his hand, flagged down a server, and ordered two colas.

  “How do you know my name?” Natalie asked once the server was gone.

  “Because the Pacific Northwest Pack has been searching for you for decades, Natalie. We learned your name when we found you in that magazine.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I’m talking about this.” He reached out and took her wrist in his hand. She tried to pull away, but he held on—not tightly, but firmly.

  “You have a tattoo like mine,” she said.

  He nodded. “Of course.”

  "What is it?”

  “You don't know?

  “I've always had it," she said. “I don’t know what it is.”

  Was it possible she had no idea who she was? She was certainly acting as if she didn’t know. She didn’t seem to understand that Ozzy was her ally, that he was there to help her.

  She was so young when she was taken away. Maybe nobody ever explained it to her.

  But surely her parents would have let her know. Why would they have kept it a secret? Even if they’d wanted her to keep her distance from the pack, not knowing who she was could only hurt her. Tonight, it had almost gotten her killed.

  “You don’t know where you come from,” he guessed.

  “What business is it of yours?” she asked.

  “Because we belong to the same family,” he said.

  “We’re related?” She stared at him. “I don't know you.”

  “We’re not related in the way you're thinking of it,” he said. “But we come from the same place. The same...group. The tattoo—everyone in our pack has it. It’s how we can distinguish each other. Your parents have it too, don’t they?”

  “My parents died when I was a baby,” she said. “I don’t remember them.”

  That explains it. “How did they die?” he asked.

  “Car accident.” Her voice was clipped. “Look, tell me why you brought me here.”

  “Technically, you brought me.”

  “You know what I mean. Who was that man back at the hotel?”

  “I think he belonged to our family’s rivals,” Ozzy said. “The Rocky Mountain Wolves.”

  “And we’re the Pacific Northwest Wolves?”

  “That's right.”

  “What’s with the obsession with wolves?” she asked. “Why does everyone fixate on wolves so much?”

  “It’s not just about liking them.” He hesitated. “You really don’t know this, do you? You’ve never shifted before?”

  “The man at the hotel said something like that too.” Her muscles had tensed, and she was looking at him with suspicion in her eyes. “What does it mean?”

  He couldn't begin to imagine how he was going to tell her this. It was obvious that she had been raised to believe she was pure human. She had been raised by pure humans.

  But she had to know. If she was going to be the pack’s omega, she had to understand what she was.

  “We’re not obsessed with wolves,” he said, keeping his voice low, leaning in so that she would hear him. “We are wolves. We’re shifters.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that we can become wolves at will,” he said.

  She shook her head. “You’re insane.”

  “I can show you,” he said. “But I can’t do it here. For obvious reasons.”

  “This is some kind of trick to get me to follow you to wherever you want
to take me.”

  “No,” he said. “We can go out back, into the alley behind the bar. I can show you there. If you’re frightened, you can come right back inside.”

  She hesitated.

  “Five minutes,” he said. “That's all it will take.”

  “This is crazy,” she whispered.

  But there must have been some part of her that believed him, that at least wondered whether he might be telling the truth, because she got up and followed him out into the alley.

  “I have to take off my clothes," he said once the door had closed, once they were alone. “Otherwise, they’ll rip when I try to shift.”

  “I’m insane,” she said. She had her hand on the doorknob, ready to wrench it open and run back inside.

  Ozzy backed away from her, making sure she wouldn’t feel too threatened. He carefully peeled off his clothes, keeping his movements slow and deliberate.

  Natalie didn’t look away. She looked as if she was intently studying his body.

  When he was naked, he closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. Then he sank into himself, reaching for the animal that lived at the core of his being.

  It was easier than it had ever been. Something about having the omega there, maybe, seemed to bring his animal self closer to the surface. He felt the lengthening of his limbs, the bending of his back, the reshaping of his face.

  He opened his eyes.

  She was standing over him now, her body trembling in shock at what she had seen, staring at him.

  “Oh my God,” she breathed.

  The scent of her washed over him like a wave. It had been powerful when he was in his human form, but now it was so overwhelming that he nearly fell over.

  I want her. The thought came to him unbidden. It wasn’t even a thought as much as it was an instinct, a need.

  And he understood, suddenly and powerfully, what had happened. Hadn’t he read about this dozens of times in his research?

  He had imprinted.

  He had imprinted on the pack’s omega.

  This is going to complicate things.