Then she’s already tugging the grates off the stove, setting them in the sink like she’s done it a hundred times before. And damn if I don’t kind of like it.
I lean against the doorway, fold my arms, and let out a sharp snort. “Holy shit. I didn’t even know those came off.”
Not that anyone’s paying attention. Skyla’s in her own little world, scrubbing at the caked-on grease like she’s on a mission.
“What’s going on?” Knox steps up next to me. His dark gaze lands on Skyla cleaning, then Dakota, standing awkwardly next to her.
“Shewantsto clean,” I say, widening my eyes so he knows exactly how nuts I think it is.
Knox nods once at me, but his gaze stays locked on Skyla. The alpha looks like he wants to step in, take thesponge out of her hand, and carry her off to bed. Instead, he grits his teeth, crosses the room to the kitchen table, then sits, watching the pair with a hawk-like intensity.
I stay leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, watching for a beat.
Skyla’s bent over the sink now, shoulders hunched, sleeves shoved up as she scrubs. Dakota’s hovering with a towel like he’s not sure if he’s supposed to help or watch.
Suddenly, everything is incredibly quiet, the tenuous sounds of the running water and the coarse sponge scouring metal.
Yeah. Not my scene.
“I’m gonna help Tadeo unpack,” I announce, even though no one asked.
Dakota looks up like he might say something, but he ends up giving me a lopsided smile. I know the beta too well—he finds this a little weird too, but omegas are known to be odd anyway.
“Have fun.” I wave, then turn.
The hallway creaks under my boots as I make my way toward my bedroom. When I nudge open the first door, Tadeo’s inside. Standing at the foot of the king-sized bed, head in his hands, shoulders tight enough to snap.
The bedroom is small, consumed by Knox and I’s massive bed. There are no side tables—cuz there’s no room—but there is a dresser across from the foot of the bed, a tiny window on the far wall, and a full-length mirror tacked up next to the doorway.
This place definitely needs an omega’s touch.
“Hey.”
Tadeo jerks at the sound of my voice. “You startled me.” His voice is weirdly stiff as he snatches a shirt off the bedand starts folding it. His whole frame is so rigid it looks painful.
“You seem tense.” I nudge his hip with mine, like maybe I can knock him loose. “What’s going on in that big, broody head?”
He cuts me a standoffish look. “I’m fine.”
Yeah, sure. And I’m the goddamn Pope.
“You don’t seem fine,” I say, letting my voice soften.
But Tadeo doesn’t look up. His throat works like he’s swallowing something sharp.
I step in close and set my hand on his shoulder, squeezing steadily until some of that tension leaks out. “You know you can tell me anything.” My eyes flick toward the hallway to make sure we’re alone, then I lean in. “Is it Skyla? Did something happen?”
His head snaps up. Those dark eyes meet mine, and—Yup. It’s about Skyla.
“Talk to me, Tadeo,” I say with a hint of a command. I don’t normally issue orders to my packmates—I leave that to Knox—but sometimes Tadeo and Dakota need a bit of guidance. They’re both so young. “You know I won’t judge you.”
For a long second, Tadeo breathes erratically. Then finally he exhales like he’s been holding it for hours. “I’ve got…a lot of guilt about this.”
“About what?” I press gently, even though I’m pretty damn sure I already know. Omega pheromones can fuck up even the steadiest alphas.
Tadeo’s throat bobs, eyes finally lifting to meet mine. They’re dark and worried, almost unsettled. “I figured the omegas at the Morder would be medicated,” he speaks slowly, like he’s trying to pick the right words. “It makes sense that they’d be given some kind of heat suppressant,but I didn’t think…” He goes stiff. “I didn’t think they’d be that out of it.”
He falters, eyes skittering away. I stay quiet, not sure what to say. I honestly thought he’d simply need to get off. I know I do.
