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I can understand his suspicion. Alphas like to take care of their omega, but he’s got it all wrong.
“He said there would be enough for extra, and he offered.”
Brady places his hands on the counter, anchoring himself in place. “They can’t know, Quinn. It’ll destroy them.”
My heart quivers. “You think I don’t know that?” I hiss. “I’ve never done anything to you. You’re the one who walked into my room uninvited all those years ago. If you would have knocked, like a normal person, you wouldn’t have even known.”
He growls and his eyes flash. “I wish I didn’t know.”
I suck in a quick breath but bury my hurt, adding it to the massive pile of pain. Not to worry; that’s just my weak omega heart bleeding all over the floor. I’ll take the injury if it means keeping the peace. “You don’t have to remind me how much you hate me. I get it. Can’t we just keep pretending, like we have for years?”
“Thank fuck I parked in the shade.” Austin rushes back into the room, oblivious to the tension between me and Brady.
I arch an eyebrow, waiting for Brady’s answer.
Slowly, grudgingly, he nods.
With shaking hands, I pour Brady a glass of wine and walk around the island, my heart hammering in my chest as he watches me like a jaguar on the hunt.
“Wine?” My voice doesn’t shake, and I do a mental fist pump for mostly keeping it together. We’ve coexisted for years while pretending like neither of us knows the truth. The least we can do is be nice to one another in our shared misery.
“Thanks,” he says, shuttering his emotions and taking the glass. “I’m going to shower before dinner. Dylan will be home in thirty.”
“Perfect. I’ll take my time with the rutabaga.” Austin holds up a paring knife. “Sure you don’t want to help?”
Even if I wasn’t terrified of getting close, I’m pretty sure Brady would kill me if I said yes. “I’m good drinking wine and watching.”
“I didn’t take you for a voyeur.” Austin smirks and takes another sip of wine, glancing at Brady. His older brother releases a dark chuckle that sends a tingle down my spine.
“Shut up,” I mutter as a hot flush crawls up my neck. I over pour a glass of wine for myself and grab my phone as I head back to my seat. This is going to be a long night.
Eighteen
QUINN
As much as I pretend to be unaffected by Austin’s and Brady’s presence while dinner is prepared, I find myself adding silly things that remind me of them to my latest Pinterest board. A couple embracing, with the man’s nose at the woman’s neck, representing the thing I crave more than I should. A handsome model in a suit. A smirking tatted-up model in a chef’s hat. A boxer with a torso covered in tattoos.
Dark waves crashing together, violent and deadly.
Storm clouds over the water, somehow calming, despite the trouble they bring.
Slashes of lightning cutting across the sky, a chaotic burst of light, breaking up the darkness.
Three forces. Three secrets dancing together in the dark.
A perfect storm sent to destroy me.
I’m four stools over from Brady, but he may as well be on top of me, with how much his scent is choking me. It doesn’t escape my notice that I’m the only one hiding my scent, while he parades his around. If he really wanted to make things easier between us, he’d at least use some of the descenting lotion.
“Fuck, yes, I’m so hungry.” Dylan’s voice startles me, and I drop my phone onto the counter and spin in my seat, devouring him with my eyes. His hair, still wet from a recent shower, sweeps across his forehead. The sweatpants he’s wearing are dark gray and scandalously mold to parts of his body I have no business ogling. His black shirt pulls tight over his muscled chest, and ink sprawls down both of his arms in bright sweeps of color and perfect lines.
Catching me looking, he smiles and starts toward me. “What do we have here? A little omega and the three bad wolves?”
“Dylan,” Brady warns, but that only has the youngest brother’s eyes lighting with mischief.
My throat goes dry, and I tip my head back to hold Dylan’s gaze as he stops before me. He grabs the wineglass from my hand and takes a sip, placing his lips right where mine had been.
“That’s rude, Dylan,” I rasp.
