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“How did you sneak out?” I ask, scratching him behind the ear. “Honestly, I’m surprised it took you this long.” I converse with him as if he’s a person because, to me, he sort of is. Though, truth be told, it’s usually Tuna who’s the master escape artist.
I sigh, glancing up at the open door, half expecting to see some of my other babies making an escape attempt. There’s a hint of disappointment within me. Max installed automatic food dispensers for each of them, which is convenient, since I don’t have to set reminders to feed them anymore. However, I miss my little companions.
Minnow wriggles closer, snuggling under my arm, nearly causing me to spill the last of my cocoa. I quickly gulp it down and set the cup aside. Hugging my mischievous orange friend to my chest, I slide off the seat. I can’t see much out of the window, but I’m secretly hoping Max keeps his promise about sledding later—the hill outside looks perfect for it.
With a soft meow, Minnow expresses his reluctance as I stand up and head toward the hall. The house has a mostly standard layout, just on a grander scale. The staircase in the foyer splits, leading to the second floor from the front of the house. Another staircase, on the opposite side, leads to the same upstairs hallway, but from a different direction.
I take the nearest one, the one in the living room with the vaulted ceilings and open space at the top.
Minnow snuggles in like a tiny baby, already snoring softly, as I make my way down the hall. My heart does a little skip as I approach the door to the bedroom specifically created for their future omega.
It’s a known fact that about half of the registered packs have these special suites, while the other half, perhaps without the hope or expectation of an omega, never bother to set them up. Considering Devlin is an heir, it’s no surprise this pack has one. Still, that doesn’t lessen the flutter of anxiety as I stand here.
Omega suites are unique, each infused with little touches from the respective pack. They often include items that hold value to them, like shirts bearing their scents. I rememberreading an article where a pack even placed their baby blankets in the suite. Strange to me, sure, but who am I to judge?
Creating an omega suite without knowing the omega and their preferences is a challenge. My gamma teachers often preached that a scent match guarantees the omega will adore whatever is created.
Calling that belief bullshit has always been my stance. I see myself as an independent woman, an individual with unique tastes all my own. The notion that fate should dictate my preferences, particularly in the context of bonding with a pack, strikes me as absurd. Thus, the concept that this room contains elements crafted for a future woman or man whom they have never met seems like nothing more than a load of fated nonsense.
Just open the door, Seraphina.
My palms are sweaty as I reach for the handle, my heart pounding in anticipation. The door swings open smoothly on well-oiled hinges, and a wave of nerves washes over me as I take in the room for the first time.
I’m torn between tears and speechlessness. It’s perfect. The first thing that catches my eye is the lighting. Dominating the center of the room is a huge light fixture reminiscent of mage lights. The globe emits a soft, ambient glow, encapsulated in a cream outer layer that makes it resemble a muted sun.
Directly ahead is a wall of windows, framed by vaulted ceilings. An arched glass door leads to a snow-covered balcony, inviting in natural light that complements the artificial one. My gaze lands on the bed to the left. They decorated one wall with dark, warm gray wallpaper, creating a cozy backdrop for the low king-sized bed covered in cream and neutral blankets. A rustic wooden headboard contrasts beautifully with the gray, flanked by matching end tables.
At the foot of the bed is a small bench seat, where I gently place Minnow. I look at a huge knot blanket at the end of the bed. Leaning down, I inhale deeply, recognizing Ashton’s scent. My fingers glide over the soft, light gray fibers, and I know he made this.
Curious, I approach an end table, picking up a little bear figurine. My fingers trace its aged design, and I instantly know this is from Max.
I set it back down and open the drawer, bursting into laughter at the sight of an array of sex toys, all thankfully still in their boxes. Classic Avery.
Turning around, I take in the seating area on the right side of the room. They mounted a television on the far wall before a curved couch similar to the one in the entertainment room. A coffee table and a small coffee bar complete the room’s furnishings.
Naturally, I’m drawn straight to the coffee bar. The labels read, “Knotty Things,” on every coffee package. I pick up a disposable cup, examining it.Devlin Armana. I can’t help but laugh. “You sly devil, Devlin. You own the bakery?” It suddenly makes sense why Max seemed so at home there. By pack rights, he owns it.
Shaking my head in mild disbelief, I set the cup down, and my curiosity leads me to the bathroom. Instead of heading into the ensuite, though, I open the door to the right of the couch and step inside.
It’s not another bathroom, but a fully stocked closet. My heart races as I reach for the nearest sweater on a shelf. Stocking a closet for an omega isn’t easy. We tend to have a similar build—wide, expressive eyes, a curvy figure with a small waist, and a short stature—but I’m a bit more on the curvy side, mainly because I refuse to conform to strict diets. No thank you.
Buying clothes for an omega you haven’t met is definitely a gamble. Curiously, I check the size on the tag of the sweater—medium. Clutching it to my chest, I close my eyes, taking deep breaths through my mouth.
Not only is it my size, but it’s also an oversized sweater. I know it’ll fit just the way I like. I’ve always thought of sweaters as wearable blankets. They need to be cozy and comfortable, not restrictive.
“It was always you, Seraphina,” Avery whispers from the doorway.
I blink, but a tear escapes anyway, my emotions heightened as my heat draws nearer. “How?” I choke out.
“The first day I saw you, I started preparing this room,” he says, stepping inside with bare feet. Gently, he takes the sweater from my fingers, folds it neatly, and places it back on the shelf. “Do you want to know the first thing I bought?”
“If you say silk pajamas, we’re going to have issues,” I say, swiping at my tears. I’m still clad in Ashton’s shirt, the one Devlin ripped off earlier, and nothing else. I haven’t been able to part with it. As I turn around, my duffle bag catches my eye, a stark reminder thattheycrafted this space, this reality, with me in mind.
“No.” He shakes his head, guiding me toward the vanity at the end of the room. While shelves and hangers line two opposite walls, with a bench seat in the center, it’s the area at the end he directs me to. “The mirror,” he says, leading me to stand in front of it.
The mirror spans the entire wall. With the press of a button, he turns on the lights set within it, brightening the room and highlighting every imperfection on my skin. “A mirror?” I question, looking over my shoulder at Avery, who steps up behind me, wrapping an arm around me and resting his chinon my shoulder, preventing me from turning away from my reflection.
“You looked so sad that day, almost broken,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. I’m not sure which day he’s referring to. “When I caught your scent, and it blended with mine, my heart jolted. I knew then you were a perfect match. Even in your sadness, you were beautiful. I made a promise to myself that if you ever became mine, I would show you just how beautiful you truly are.”
