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Grey continues to make himself at home in my kitchenette-—digging in bags, piling food on plates while Oliver pulls a bottle of wine from one of the bags and starts pouring glasses.
I fold my arms and lean against the wall, studying them through narrowed eyes as I focus on the smell of the food instead of their delicious scents.
Especially the alpha's. Because I do not like him.
They soon have the table set and the food stashed out of the way, creating an intimate dinner for three.
At least they didn't add candlelight or soft jazz.
"Ready to eat?" Oliver asks when I remain frozen in the doorway.
I blink and shake myself. “Sure. Yeah. Okay."
"Don't worry. We don't bite." Grey gestures over to the table.
"Not without permission, anyway." Oliver winks at me.
My body is stiff as I perch on the edge of the seat Grey pulls out from the table. "Thanks."
"You're welcome." Grey moves over to the chair next to me, and takes a seat.
I'm trapped between him and Oliver, their scents washing over me, making goosebumps race across my flesh. But the birria tacos and the sushi distract me, my demanding stomach growling with hunger.
A relatively comfortable quiet falls around us as we eat, the occasional grunt of pleasure interrupting the silence. The food is delicious. My moan is loud when I take the first bite of the taco, the juices of the consommé coating my lips and dripping down my chin as the flavors of spice and garlic and perfectly roasted meat explode on my tongue.
Oliver makes similar appreciative noises as he digs into his egg foo young, though Grey doesn't seem nearly as pleased with his veggie pasta. I consider sharing my tacos with him, but they're so good.
"Where did you get these tacos?" I want to eat them every single day while I’m here in this town.
Oliver flashes me a grin. “There's a food truck that sells them in the center of town. It's one of our favorites."
"These are amazing." I lick the sauce from my lips, determined not to waste a drop.
Grey nods. “Yeah, we go there a lot."
"Do you want one?" I ask, hoping the alpha says no.
He shakes his head. “No, I'm good with my pasta."
I shoot him a skeptical look. “Really? You keep scowling at it."
Grey exchanges a glance with Oliver. “Oh. No, it's good. It just tastes different today. Better."
My brow furrows. “And that offends you?"
Grey grimaces. “It's your scent. It's making it taste better."
I sit back in my seat with my own grimace. “Oh. Right. I guess you're affected too."
Grey pins me with a look so heated, my entire body feels like it’s on fire. “My scent appeals to you as well?"
I clear my throat, rubbing at my tingling thighs. “Both of yours do. And your beta."
"Has that ever happened to you before?" Oliver asks.
A bitter laugh falls from my lips. “No. And I don't much care for it."
Oliver quirks a brow. “Sorry?"
