Page 18 of Trick or Heat

“That’s so exciting! Is it your first?”

“Yes, it is,” I confirm, puffing my chest out with pride.

“Wow.” He looks at us in awe. “Well, I think we might have something special for you guys then! I’ll be right back.”

The employee disappears and then I’m met with two stern faces.

“What?” I ask.

“What?” Raivat mocks me, his mouth moving at an angle as he mimics my voice. “She isn’t our omega.”

“I know that,” I protest. “But he doesn’t need to know that. This is still an exciting moment, and I wanted to share it with someone.”

“Others don’t need to know our business,” Brodie murmurs, a protective glint sparkling in his eye.

I put my hands up. “Hey, I’m ecstatic about this. Talking about heat cycles should be more normalized.”

“I agree with you, but maybe let’s just not say anything to anyone else.”

“He’s not going to remember this,” I argue, crossing my arms.

Then the employee comes back, our large order in hand along with a giant cake.

“What… is that?” I ask, pointing at it.

Raivat looks at Brodie and hisses, “Did you order a cake?”

“I did not order that,” he snarls.

“Oh, yeah, no one ordered it,” the employee interjects. “This is from all of us, the entire family of Sam’s Soups and Salads, to you.”

We look up to see the rest of the kitchen behind him, their lips turned up in glee. One is even jumping in place, their excitement too much to bear.

I feel my pack mates’ eyes on me before I burst out in nervous laughter. “Wow!” I rub the back of my neck. “Thanks, man.”

“No problem,” he says, completely oblivious to my friends giving me the death glare. “It’s a seasonal pumpkin-spice cake. I hope your omega likes it.”

My lips flatten. Fuck, I hope she does, too.

When we get out to the car, Brodie flicks my ear.

“Hey!”

“We can never show our faces here again,” he sneers, but there’s no real malice in it.

I cross my arms. “No one likes to be whimsical with me in this fucking pack.”

That causes both of them to laugh, and then we’re off to meet Elsie.

The bags are heavy as we take the steps up to her door. There must be three on each of our arms, but we persist, not wanting to leave the apartment once we enter it. Brodie knocks—not very well—on the door, and we wait.

A few moments later, a message comes through from the app, and Brodie looks down to read it.

“She says the doors are open and to come on in.”

I stifle the growl that wants to erupt at the thought of her door being unlocked, my alpha unreasonably anxious at the knowledge of it. Luckily, my friends don’t notice as we stroll inside, the comedic amount of heavy bags on our arms sounding with each of our movements.

When we get inside, there’s soft music playing, and I know immediately it’s to soothe the omega’s pain. My heart beats more erratically, listening to the soft voice of Stevie Nicks as we enter her home. I reach out and lock the door behind me, the tension from before easing from my body as I do.