The kitchen was absolutely alive with voices, the overlapping hum of people who’d lived together long enough to say anything. The hallway vibrated with warmth and the scents of apple, cinnamon, and whatever else the mates had managed to cram into the oven.
Squaring his shoulders, Alex shuffled into the kitchen, bracing for impact.
Four sets of eyes snapped to him at once.
Sasha was perched on one of the counters, legs crossed like he was prepping for a magazine shoot. The gorgeous redhead could totally pull it off.
Preston and Jalen were at the island, elbow to elbow, faces shaded pink by the oven light.
Newt hovered above the fridge in low-energy mode, wings flicking while he ate dry cereal by the handful.
And all four of them stared.
Not silence, exactly. More like a split-second of collective intake, the kind you heard at football games right before the big play.
Then Preston broke the tension, eyebrows shooting up so fast they were in danger of detaching. “A certain somebody got claimed.”
The ensuing cacophony of hoots, whistles, and catcalls could have shattered glass.
Sasha started it, letting out a disbelieving whistle that would’ve impressed a construction crew.
Jalen slammed a fist on the counter and pointed directly at Alex’s neck. “Look at that bruise! Dude, you got owned.”
Newt chucked a fistful of cereal at him like it was confetti.
Within seconds, the entire kitchen was shaking with laughter.
“Okay, okay, herd mentality, I get it,” Alex grumbled, but he couldn’t suppress the flush blooming in his cheeks. “Didn’t realize you guys formed a welcome committee for newly de-virginized mates.”
That earned another round of howls. Too late, he realized what he’d said. “Not that I was a…um… Never mind.”
He wasn’t a virgin, but with the way Wade had “owned” him, Alex had learned things he didn’t know people could do during sex. He’d even discovered he could turn into a bendy straw.
Not a brag he wanted to share.
“Aw, honey,” Sasha cooed, hopping down from the counter to squeeze his arm. “Don’t be embarrassed. You look amazing. Seriously, you’re straight-up glowing. Like, I need sunglasses.”
Preston waggled his eyebrows. “You need water? Or Gatorade? Or a really soft cushion?”
“I’m gonna pass,” Alex replied, navigating the minefield of snack wrappers and dirty spoons to claim a seat at the island. “And you can all keep your comments to yourselves. Nothing to see here.”
“Except a love bite the size of New Mexico,” Jalen deadpanned. “Was Wade trying to suck your entire neck off?”
“Can we get a photo?” Newt asked, diving closer with his phone out. “For the pack scrapbook.”
The pack had a scrapbook? Alex wasn’t interested. Not that he was embarrassed about the hickey. His collar would forever be immortalized if he took one right now.
Alex ducked, swatting at the fae, but the smile on his face refused to budge. This was how it was supposed to feel. Like you’d crashed a family reunion and nobody cared you weren’t technically invited.
It felt good to be a part of something, even if that something was a group of Nosy Nellies.
Sasha plopped a mug of coffee in front of him, followed by a plate stacked with brownies. “Eat. You need to keep your energy up, now that you’re,” he paused, considering, “in high demand.”
Wow. So this was their post-sex therapy. Baked goods, caffeine, and full-contact teasing.
It worked.
Alex took a brownie and crammed it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully while the other mates eased back into the usual kitchen banter.
