10. TATI
Chapter ten
TATI
The smell of toast and something warm and buttery drags me out of sleep. My nest is soft, cozy, and honestly? I could stay here forever. But the scent keeps pulling me—carbs and something savory, with just a faint hint of citrus.
A shadow falls across the doorway of my room and then there’s Carleen. Hair still damp from a rushed shower, sleeves rolled up on her crisp button-up, and a sharpness in her brown eyes that means business. But when she looks at me, when she takes in the sleepy mess I am, her whole face softens.
“Morning, sunshine,” she murmurs, stepping forward and kneeling next to my nest.
“Morning…” I croak out, voice raspy and thick with sleep.
Before I can fully process what’s happening, Carleen leans in and starts pressing quick, feather-light kisses all over my face—my forehead, my cheeks, the tip of my nose. I giggle and squirm, trying to push her away, but she just huffs out a warm laugh and keeps going.
“Alpha!” I whine, burying my face in my hands.
“Up and at ’em, sweetheart,” she says, her voice lilting with amusement. “I’ve got a busy morning, and you’re coming with me—well, to the living room, at least.”
She grabs me under the arms and hauls me out of the nest like I weigh nothing, guiding me out of the room with steady hands and gentle nudges. I stumble down the hallway, still half-asleep, until she deposits me onto the couch.
I blink up at her, wide-eyed and still tangled in the hoodie I slept in. “Am I being exiled? Did I do something wrong?”
Carleen snorts, setting a plate of golden toast, perfectly boiled eggs, and a tall glass of orange juice down in front of me. “You’re not in trouble but I need you out of the kitchen for a little while.” She playfully taps my nose like she knows I would have woken, stumbled in, and started making a mess of her counters.
I grab a piece of toast and shove it in my mouth, chewing as I eye her suspiciously. “Why?”
She sighs, scrubbing a hand down her face before giving me one of those patient-but-firm looks that makes my stomach flip. “I’ve got people coming over. Important people. From Culinova. ”
The toast nearly falls out of my mouth. “ Culinova? Like… the Culinova?”
Carleen nods, her lips twitching as she fights back a smile at my dramatics.
“Alpha!” I squeal, bouncing slightly on the couch. “That’s amazing! Do you know how huge that is? Oh my goddess, are you going to do one of those insane luxury parties where people drink gold flakes and eat flowers carved into swans?” I’ve only been part of the entertainment at parties like that but I make sure to steal a few bites of food because I’ll never get another chance otherwise.
Carleen crosses her arms over her chest, one eyebrow raised. “Something like that.”
I’m still vibrating with excitement, my toast wobbling in my hand as I gesture wildly. “You’re gonna kill this, Carleen. They’re going to love you. They’ll be stupid not to sign you right then and there.”
Her shoulders relax slightly and she reaches forward to squeeze my hand. “Thanks, sunshine. That means a lot.” Then her stern face is back, her hand still in mine as she levels me with a look. “Which is exactly why you need to stay out of the kitchen today.”
I gasp, mock-offended. “Excuse me? Are you saying my peanut butter and jelly masterpieces aren’t Michelin-star material?”
Carleen snorts, rolling her eyes. “Sweetheart, I loved your PB&J, but let’s be honest—they’re not going to impress the St. James pack.”
My smile freezes. My eyes go wide. “Wait… what pack?”
Carleen’s lips press together, like she’s already regretting letting that slip.
“The St. James pack,” she says carefully, trying to keep her voice neutral.
I blink at her, processing. And then it hits me.
“ The St. James pack? Like, the two Alphas on every food magazine cover in your house? The ones everyone lowkey obsesses over because of their ‘flavor balance’ and ‘artistic presentation? And well, because they’re fucking hot? Those St. James Alphas? Ryder and Ashton St. James? ” I slap a hand over my mouth, my eyes going wide. “Carleen! They’re coming here? To this apartment? To your kitchen?! ”
Carleen pinches the bridge of her nose and nods once. “Yes. They’re on their way. And yes, I may have agreed to this without thinking it through. Don’t remind me.”
The second Carleen disappears into the kitchen, I’m left alone on the couch with my half-eaten toast, my brain absolutely buzzing . Ryder and Ashton St. James. In this apartment. In Carleen’s kitchen.
My heart is racing and I can’t even blame it on the caffeine because I haven’t touched the coffee Carleen brought me yet. My eyes dart to the stack of magazines on the rack next to the armchair—glossy pages filled with sharp angles, sultry gazes, and dishes so beautiful they look like art. Without thinking, I snatch one of them from the top, nearly spilling my juice in the process.
Culinova’s Power Duo: Ryder & Ashton St. James Take Culinary Perfection to New Heights
The cover is ridiculous . Ryder, all sharp blue eyes and dirty blonde hair styled to perfection, stands with his arms crossed, a faint scar slicing through one eyebrow. Ashton leans casually beside him, his warm brown skin practically glowing under the studio lights, his easy grin offset by the sharp glint of the diamond studs in his ears.
They look untouchable. Unreal. And now they’re coming here .
“Okay, okay, deep breaths,” I mumble around a mouthful of toast, flipping through the pages.
The article talks about their rise to fame—the way Ryder handles precision and artistry while Ashton brings soul and warmth to every dish. Together, they’ve become Culinova’s golden boys, headlining the world’s most exclusive events.
While most people are out here drooling over actors and models—people like Macon and Savin , Ellie’s mates—I’ve always been a food girl. Give me a beautifully seared steak over a red carpet walk any day.
I’d eat anything. Sweet, salty, savory—I don’t care. Food is a language, one I’ve always understood. And being so close to Carleen all these years has only sharpened that love. She taught me about balance and seasoning, about letting ingredients speak for themselves even if I prefer a mean peanut butter and jelly sandwich. And now? Now I might get to see Ashton and Ryder in action.
This is a dream.
Except… my stomach feels tight, a knot curling deep in my belly that has nothing to do with excitement and everything to do with… something else. I set the magazine down and lean back onto the couch, chewing nervously on my bottom lip as I stare at the door. Then, like fate decided to play the most wicked trick on me, there’s a sharp knock that echoes through the apartment.
Carleen’s voice carries from the kitchen, sharp and confident. “Stay put, Tati.”
I freeze as Carleen strides to the door. Her entire posture has shifted—her shoulders squared, her chin lifted, every bit of her radiating that no-nonsense Alpha energy that makes me want to… well, it makes me want something .
She swings the door open and I swear I forget how to breathe.
Because there they are.
Ryder and Ashton St. James.
The pictures don’t do them justice. Not even close.
Ryder is taller than I expected, his shoulders broad under a fitted black button-up. His blue eyes are sharp as they scan the apartment before settling on Carleen. The faint scar through his brow adds an edge to his already severe expression.
And Ashton? Ashton is… heat. He’s all relaxed confidence, his grin sharp and playful as he adjusts the sleeves of his blazer. His brown skin practically glows under the warm light filtering through the window, and those diamond studs in his ears catch every flicker of it.
But it’s not just the way they look .
It’s the way they feel.
I stuff another piece of toast into my mouth, trying to swallow down the moan creeping up the back of my throat. Ryder and Ashton both bow their heads respectfully and I swear my toast nearly falls out of my mouth when they actually take off their shoes at the entrance.
What kind of fever dream is this?
Their scents hit me like a brick wall—bourbon, deep and heady, mixed with something bright and sharp like earthy citrus. It fills every corner of the living room, curling into my lungs, making my knees weak even though I’m sitting down .
My chest feels tight and a flush creeps up my neck, my skin prickling with heat as something deep, deep in my chest stirs.
My body knows them.
No.
No, no, no.
I press my palm over my mouth, whispering into it, “There’s no fucking way.”
And yet… my brain short-circuits because all I can think about is climbing into Ryder’s lap—or Ashton’s, I’m not choosy—and burying my face in the crook of his neck, inhaling their combined earthy bourbon-and-citrus scent until I’m dizzy from it.
I let out a small, breathy giggle under my breath, half-choked around my toast. “So it’s like that, ” I mutter to myself, a smirk pulling at my lips. I’m gonna need so much therapy . And several hours with a vibrator after these few moments.
Ryder leans back against the counter, attentively listening to every word falling from Carleen’s lips but it’s Ashton that now has my full attention. He’s studying Carleen as she talks, but his lips are tugged into a faint grin, the corner of his mouth twitching like he’s holding back a laugh. His bottom lip is pulled between his teeth, one of his brows raised in what seems like awe as Carleen speaks.
Everything about him is fucking perfect and don’t even get me started on his eyelashes—thick, dark, criminally pretty, and fluttering every time he blinks.
Oh, goddess, help me.
Because all I can picture now is Ashton above me, those beautiful brown eyes locked on mine as he pins my wrists down, his breath warm against my neck. The sharp jolt of heat that zips through me at the thought makes me choke on my food and I scramble for my juice, grabbing the glass and downing it in one go.
My stomach is doing Olympic-level gymnastics, my skin feels too tight, and my head is spinning with the scent of bourbon, citrus, and peaches.
Too much.
I fumble for my phone, my hands trembling as I unlock it and pull up my chat with Ellie. If anyone can help me sort through this tangled mess of feelings and biology and… whatever the hell is happening right now, it’s her.
SOS. Emergency.
?? What happened? Are you okay? Is Carleen okay??
I’m fine. Carleen’s fine. But Ryder and Ashton St. James are HERE.
Like… in your HOUSE? THE St. James pack?
YES.
Holy shit. Okay. Deep breath. What’s happening?
They smell really good, Ellie.
Oh no.
Like, REALLY good. Like, I-want-to-crawl-into-Ryder’s-lap-and-hide good. Like-I-want-Ashton-to-look-at-me-from-above-me good.
Tati!
I KNOW.
I chew on my bottom lip, my fingers hesitating over the keyboard before I type out the next message.
El, this feels like… like what I felt with Carleen. But worse. More intense. Like my whole body just KNOWS them.
Ellie doesn’t reply right away, and I can picture her frowning at her phone, her forehead creased in thought as she processes what I just said.
Finally, my phone buzzes again.
Is it the same, though? Like, the same pull you felt with Carleen? The same… connection?
It is. And I can’t handle it. It’s too much. This complicates everything.
Love and biology are ALWAYS complicated. Look at me, Macon, and Savin. It’s messy, but we make it work. You don’t have to have all the answers right now.
But this isn’t just messy, Ellie. This is… terrifying.
I know, Tati. But maybe it doesn’t have to be. Take a breath. Don’t run from it. Just feel it out.
I let out a long, shaky breath, my fingers hovering over the screen.
You’re too wise for someone who just had triplets.
It’s the sleep deprivation. Makes me sound profound.
How are you, by the way?
I’m okay. Macon’s being bossy, though. Limiting my screen time so I’ll “rest.” Whatever that means.
LOL. Macon being bossy? Shocking.
Ellie: I know, right? And Casey texted, asked when I'm coming back. Said it's not the same at Euphoria with the unstoppable duo.
You just popped out three children! Casey is a mess. Alright. I’ll figure this out. Go rest before Macon catches you.
Love you, Tati. You’ve got this.
I smile faintly at the screen before locking my phone and setting it face-down on my lap. Ellie’s right. I don’t need to have all the answers right now. But the weight of their scents, the way my body is reacting—it’s not something I can ignore. Especially when I shift in my chair and the most embarrassing moan slips through my lips. If I could just reach down between my thighs and alleviate the…
I glance back toward the kitchen, only to realize— They’re all staring at me.
Carleen’s leaning over the counter, arms crossed, her sharp brown eyes glittering with mischief. Ryder’s still standing near the counter, his icy blue eyes locked onto me like he’s trying to read my soul . And Ashton…
Oh goddess.
Ashton is stepping away from the counter, his gaze locked on me as he slowly crosses the space between the kitchen and the living room. His movements are smooth, predatory, like he’s stalking prey, and the faint smirk on his lips doesn’t help at all. I swallow hard, my fingers clutching the edge of the armchair as he stops just a few feet away from me.
He tilts his head slightly, those thick lashes of his fluttering as he licks his bottom lip, his brown eyes trailing slowly over me. “Oh,” he purrs, his voice deep and syrup-smooth, “you’re a pretty little doe.”
My breath catches and I can feel the heat creeping up my neck, flooding my cheeks, and settling low in my stomach.
Ashton doesn’t look away from me. “Carleen, is this Beta yours?”
I look over at Carleen, wide-eyed, my chest rising and falling rapidly. Her smirk widens, and she leans a little further over the counter, her brown eyes sparkling like she’s enjoying every second of this.
“Yes,” she says.
A mixture of relief and disappointment washes over me, but before I can process it, Ashton tilts his head again, one brow quirking up as he asks, “So… off-limits, then?”
The room goes still. Ryder’s gaze flickers between Carleen and Ashton. My chest feels tight, my hands trembling slightly as I clutch the armrest. Carleen’s lips curve into a slow, wicked grin. “I didn’t say that. ”
I squeak.
Like, an actual squeak escapes my mouth, and I immediately slap a hand over my face, mortified.
Ashton chuckles low in his throat, his brown eyes flashing with amusement and Ryder’s lips twitch slightly—like he’s fighting back a smile. I’m doomed . My breath stutters in my chest, my thighs press together instinctively, and I swear my scent grows sweeter.
Oh no.
His lips twitch into a smirk and his head tilts slightly as he leans down. He gently catches my chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting my head up until our faces are so close I can feel his breath ghost across my lips. His voice is low, dark, and smooth as silk. There’s something familiar about it but I can’t place it. “Oh, I’m going to have fun with you.”
The sharp breath I suck in feels loud in the dead silence of the room. My stomach flips, my skin tingles, and I’m pretty sure if Carleen and Ryder weren’t here, I’d already be a puddle on the floor.
“Ashton.”
Ryder’s voice cuts through the tension like a knife—low and commanding, with just a hint of irritation. In an instant, Ryder is there, one large hand curling around the back of Ashton’s neck, yanking him back just slightly. Ashton’s lips curl up even further, his eyes glowing with equal parts amusement and something darker, something hungrier .
“Hands off, Ash,” Ryder growls. “Not everyone enjoys that.”
But Ashton doesn’t move far, doesn’t let go of me right away, and that stupid, sinful smirk stays plastered across his face. His tongue darts out, wetting his bottom lip as his gaze flickers between me and Ryder, like he’s enjoying every second of this.
And goddess help me, so am I.
Because the way Ryder is holding Ashton—firm, authoritative, their bodies so close together—makes my head spin. Ryder’s icy blue eyes are locked on Ashton, and Ashton’s brown ones flicker with heat and mischief.
I can’t stop the way my mind spirals. The fantasies rush in as I imagine what it would feel like to be between them—to have Ryder on one side and Ashton on the other.
I’m burning.
And Carleen?
Carleen is grinning from the kitchen, her arms crossed over her chest, her brown eyes dancing as she casually leans back against the counter like this isn’t the single most unhinged moment of my entire life.
Her lips curl up in a deviant, predatory smile. “I have a feeling Tati would love that.”
Oh.
Oh no.
Ashton’s smirk widens, and he licks his lips again, his eyes trailing down my flushed face to my trembling hands. Ryder, still holding him by the neck, sighs deeply, his thumb pressing briefly into Ashton’s nape before letting go. But Ashton doesn’t step back. Neither of them do.
They’re both looking at me now—one with sharp blue intensity, the other with warm, predatory brown eyes.
And I can’t breathe .
My skin feels too tight, my scent is filling the space around me, sweet and inviting, and I know if I stay here any longer, I’m going to combust . A whimper catches in my throat and I slap a hand over my mouth before it escapes, their eyes darkening in response.
I’m going to die. Right here. In this armchair.
I scramble to my feet, nearly tripping over my own toes as I clutch my empty glass to my chest like it’s some kind of shield. “I—I’m late!” I blurt out, my voice way too high-pitched and trembling.
Three pairs of eyes snap to me—Carleen, Ryder, Ashton—and they’re all varying shades of amused .
“Late for what, sunshine?” Carleen drawls, her grin spreading.
“I… a thing! A very important thing! ”
I back away, holding one hand up like I’m warding off a pack of hungry wolves, which—let’s face it—I basically am.