“Shhhh. We’re not supposed to talk about it, ’cause Xan could get in trouble. But yeah. Paul’s a big softie once you get past…all his stuff. He can’t even squish a spider…we both tend to call Al for that, and he sometimes relocates them if they aren’t poisonous. But Xan’s a little overprotective of his people. Luckily for Kelly, she’s one of his people ’cause she’s worked with them for so long. I know Steve’s not your favorite guy, but his dad was gonna kill him…and he trades me recipes. Not that I cook, but I bring some to Paul, and he cooks really good.” He’s grinning again, like we weren’t just talking about someone who sounds sociopathic. That’s fine, I probably won’t have to meet the guy since Kelly doesn’t work there anymore.
The big alpha looks at me again, his mouth opening like he’s about to say something else. Before anything comes out, though, a door opens loudly downstairs and a voice drifts to us. “Hey. I’m home! Is everybody ok? Is Sam’s pack here?” The voice goes quieter. “Maybe out back. Shit, I need to mow, or have Spence do it. Don’t want any fucking snakes thinking it’s appealing here. Oh, hey, a sandwich. Mine now.”
Another door opens and closes before he yells again, his voice muffled this time, probably around food. “Is anybody alive in here? Did we have a Roanoke Island sort of situation localized at our house? Fuck me, I knew this place was too cheap. Maybe a poltergeist?”
Al’s voice comes from down the hall. “I was in the bathroom, sorry. Yes, the sandwich is yours; we’re all alive. Though why Spencer, Sarah, or Greg didn’t reply is beyond me.” There’s another loud sigh before he continues. “They should be in the nest. Dear lord, no one had better be having sex in this housewithout warning us first.” He sounds frustrated as loud footfalls stomp down the hall towards us, and while it makes me want to jump on Moose and wrap my arms and legs around him just to fuck with the pack-lead, I don’t want the big guy to get in any trouble.
Instead of letting me mess with their heads, Greg finally leans out the door. “Sorry, we’re in the nest, nobody’s having sex, or even removing any clothes. We were just talking and getting lost in thought. Sorry my dudes!” Al looks mildly affronted at being called a dude, just as Paul tops the stairs, shoving the last bite of a sandwich in his mouth.
Chapter 59
The tableau upstairs makes me laugh so hard, I think I’m gonna choke to death on this damned sandwich. It wasn’t bad, not hot, but dry as fuck. Why the hell didn’t they have any dressing or anything on it? Oh well, the last bite gets stuck sideways as I take in Alistair’s angry expression and the three faces now sticking out of the nest. Spence is red-faced and blushing like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t—but knowing him, it’s just that our packmate mentioned sex. The poor guy blushes about everything; he’s easily embarrassed by things like that.
The big beta beside him is grinning as if this is the funniest situation he’s seen in a while, and it might be. The guy seems to dote on his little mate, but when he doesn’t think anyone’s watching him, he looks sad. Not unlike Alistair, though I’m still working on teasing all of his secrets out, but this guy isn’t partof my pack. As long as it’s nothing that’ll come back and bite us in the ass, he can keep them. Then there’s the omega. Her head turns, trying to take us all in at once, but she seems happy to be here, smiling fondly at the two big guys she’s sandwiched between. She’s so damned tiny, just standing beside those two, her head only coming to nipple-high on Spence. I’ve been so wrapped up in my own mind recently that I didn’t realize how pretty she is.
Omegas generally are, true, but her big brown eyes and soft smile belie a fierce nature that lurks under the surface. I’ve always been decent at reading people, and she shares some of the same sadness that her beta has, though hers is masked more by the outgoing personality she puts forward. My chest aches with the need to wipe away the underlying sadness I’ve noticed since we first met, and I don’t know if it’s because Spence is already so attached and I need to take care of him and her as an extension, or if it’s something else. Maybe just an alpha need to take care and dote on an omega. She’s not mine, and she’ll never be my scent match like Elaine was, but I still feel a deep pull to make sure she’s ok.
Alistair huffs at the three of them, his look of irritation replaced with puzzlement as he stares for a moment too long. Maybe he also feels that it’s right for them to be in our space, in the nest at our home. Still, I don’t want to ask and risk ruining the moment. Regardless of my desire, I’m hit with a sudden wave of strawberry shortcake-scented perfume that makes me groan along with both my packmates. It wasn’t this strong in the store a few days ago; still sweet, but it didn’t call to me like it does now. Once again, I’m unsure if that’s because she’s in our space and our nest, a place that is so achingly omega that I wonder, not for the first time, why Spence has been so intent on fixing it up.
Her voice is soft and slightly pained, her face a dark pink, as sweat blooms on her forehead. “I’m…I’m sorry, guys. I don’t…holy shit. I think I need to go back to Sam’s and take a cool shower or something.” She wobbles on her feet and Greg scoops her up even as Spence is reaching for her himself.
The beta’s voice fills with concern. “You ok, Shor—Sarah? Is it another spike? Do I need to get us over to the hotel for your heat?” He brushes her hair back from her forehead before pressing his cheek to it. “You don’t feel as hot this time, but I don’t want to take any chances if you think it might be starting for real.” Spence is leaning from foot to foot, arms slightly raised like he wants to help but doesn’t know what to do, and the little omega just smiles at him before turning all her attention to Greg.
“No…no, I think it’s just another spike. It’ll probably go away soon, just like at the store a few days ago. I’ll…ow…fucking fuck those cramps hurt. Can you just help me get outside into the fresh air for a minute? Just see if that helps clear my head up a bit. I don’t want to go to the heat suite if I don’t have to. Once you check in, you have to pay for all five days, even if it’s a false alarm, and I’d like to avoid the cost if possible. Besides, my heat’s not supposed to be till next month. You know my schedule’s jacked up, but there’s no way it should be a month early.” She sighs, as if talking has worn her out, and presses her face against his chest, taking a deep breath of her scent-matched beta.
Something about her vulnerability calls to me the way her usual exuberance doesn’t. She’s been appealing since I first saw her, but the quiet, softer side makes my alpha ache to fix what’s wrong, to help her feel better.
Not specifically sex, though if this is a heat spike, that would be the immediate solution. Instead, I want to take care of her, bundle her up in the blankets still sealed up in the nest, and purrfor her until she feels better. Find out and cook her favorite food, so she’s full and happy, and asleep in my arms, content.
Spence is right in saying that she’s in good shape. Her body is toned and muscular, attractive in the way that a sculpture is, with beautiful angles and well-defined anatomy, but she’s so small, and lacking the padding that’s usual for omegas. Sudden worry nags at my mind that she isn’t eating enough. Her beta is taking care of her as best he can, but they probably don’t have a good kitchen in her dorm, and while cafeteria food isn’t a bad option, nothing beats a home-cooked meal.
My own chest rumbles with a sensation I haven’t felt in years, a deep-seated need to take care of her. It takes effort to stop my hand from reaching out to touch her as my rusty sounding purr rattles to life.
Her face turns to me from where it’s pressed against Greg, a soft smile on her lips. “Oh, that’s nice. Not as good as Greg’s guitar, but I can totally see being the filling in an alpha sandwich if it involved purring.” She giggles quietly for a moment as her eyes drift closed and she snuggles tighter against him.
Thankfully, instead of being offended or acting put out, Greg just smiles at her and scooches closer, and I don’t try to stop the involuntary movement of my body as I step forward and finally allow my fingers to settle in her hair, stroking the raven strands back from her forehead. She lets out a soft humming noise and her face follows the movement like a flower follows the sun.
“She’s like a cat. Sorry, I’ve never seen her this relaxed. But she is still a bit warm.” Greg’s voice is quiet, almost as if he’s trying not to wake her up, though I don’t think she fell asleep, just got really snuggly.
This is confirmed a moment later when she cracks open one eye. “Seriously, guys. I didn’t conk out on you. I’m just resting my eyes. It’s probably just jet lag, or hormones, or whatever the hell is causing the heat spikes. My body is being wonky like it’strying to rest up in preparation for a few days of no sleep…but I’m fine. I’ll be fine. No stress, ok?” Even Alistair’s gaze is softer as he looks over at her. Whether he also feels the need to take care of her, or he just prefers the quieter version, I can’t say.
Still, I resist the urge to dote; she isn’t ours, and in a few days, she’ll be gone. That hurts more to think about now than I like to admit. Maybe I like the idea of her being around, or being able to cook for somebody other than these two, of having someone to actually take care of—of her strawberry shortcake scent in our house—more than I let on. Maybe it doesn’t matter, because she’ll be leaving, and I can’t be nursing another broken heart if I’m busy holding Spence together.
Chapter 60
My body screams out at how wrong it is for the little spaz to feel bad enough that she’s finally sedate. From the moment we met, she’s been loud and exuberant regarding everything she encounters. This new, quieter version is off-putting just because it means she feels bad. I don’t like it. She’s endearing curled up against her beta, and a relaxed version of her could certainly be appealing, but not this quietly pained one before me. It unnerves me, as if it’s something I should fix.
Paul’s purr rumbles to life for the first time since I’ve known him, and it takes effort for me to drag my eyes from her to him, at the sheer absurdity of the situation. Other than Spencer, who can’t control it, alphas don’t purr for people who aren’t our family. Certainly not a random omega. Also, while I don’t know all of what happened, the fact that this is the first time he’s done it since he lost his scent match is unnerving. From whatSpencer has told me, that whole situation was a shitshow of epic proportions, and while the beta he matched to is fine, she was already happily married and had a family. She wasn’t interested in having an alpha or a pack. Which sucks for him, but better that she was upfront than to lead him on.
Greg turns, still holding Sarah, and starts down the stairs. Paul’s purr stutters out, and that fact alone makes me want to bring her back here. Spencer looks worried, though in all fairness, I think he has undiagnosed anxiety since he’s always concerned with helping everyone else be happy. A few moments later the front door opens and closes quietly, and they’re out of the house. At this point, I don’t even know what I want the outcome to be. Would it be better for her to suddenly go into heat and have to leave completely, cut our losses before any of us get more involved? Or should I hope, instead, that she feels well enough after some fresh air that she comes back inside to tell Spencer goodnight; that we might get to see her again before she leaves.
For that matter, why do I even want to? I don’t want an omega; they are untrustworthy and manipulative creatures only intent on their own comforts. Though I suppose the same could be said for any designation. Heaven knows my old pack threw me over forherin a heartbeat, but I don’t think that these guys would ever do anything like that. They took me in without knowing anything about me, even before they had a reason to trust me. Which is the other problem. I don’t want them to get hurt when she goes back. Because she will; no sane omega would willingly move halfway across the country for a pack of guys she just met.
For one, that would be incredibly dangerous. For two, her family would have to approve of the transfer, or she would need to bond with us and have the pack paperwork amended to include the two of them so that we could bring her here. Though it hardly matters, because she’d have to be nuts to leave LosAngeles and move to Mississippi. We have nothing but catfish, rocks, and way too much fried food. I’ve been here for a few years now, and I’m still reeling from the culture shock.
All three of us wait quietly for some sound from outside, either their van driving away or the two of them coming back in. Time seems to stretch on to infinity, but when the grandfather clock downstairs—a housewarming gift from Josh and Billy—chimes eight o’clock, I know it’s been less than ten minutes since they left. Regardless, the sound seems to draw Paul out of his thoughts, and his shoulders hitch in a sigh before he turns and starts back down the stairs. Spencer leaves the nest a moment later, quietly closing the door behind him as if he wants to pretend it doesn’t exist, and follows Paul downstairs.
With nothing better to do, I walk down myself, belatedly realizing they’ve both gone into the kitchen. Paul is pulling out a recipe book that’s seen better days, thumbing through it quietly while Spence fidgets on the other side of the island. Apparently, our oldest packmate has several recipe books. Much like my own things, they’ve been packed away in preparation of getting a place of our own, since there wasn’t enough space at the apartment. He even hung up a dedicated shelf for them in the kitchen—the supports covered in curling vines and grapes that he whittled himself so that he could display them properly. He says most of them are gifts from his parents; they have traditionally given him and Josh each a cookbook every year for Christmas along with some other gifts that align with their separate interests.
