Chapter Two – Felix
“Looks like their flight got delayed indefinitely,” I say, reading the message off my phone. As it is, our trip up to the house took way longer than we thought thanks to the stupid snow. That’s the thing about winter: it’s pretty, sure, but it also causes so many problems.
“Did Miranda make it all right?” Nico asks me from the backseat, sprawled out. “She was supposed to message us when she got there, but she never did, did she?”
“No,” I say, but I pull up her phone and check her location, finding she is indeed already at the house.
It’s early, pre-dawn. We were supposed to get there last night, but the roads into the mountains get shut down easily since there aren’t enough plows to go around.
“She’s at the house. Should I tell her we’re almost there? ”
In the driver’s seat, Matteo grunts out, “No. Knowing her, she’s probably sleeping. We’ll just surprise her whenever the hell she wakes her ass up.”
I chuckle softly. Miranda’s always been a fan of her beauty sleep, especially when she’s off school.
She’s currently commuting to a college in the city, learning how to do hair.
No—not just that. She’s also learning how to run her own business.
Her goal is to open her own salon one day.
Point is: she doesn’t play when it comes to sleep.
On her time off, she can easily sleep in until noon.
We’re only twenty or so minutes away from the house, so hopefully we don’t run into any other issues. This damn weather really puts a damper on things, but that’s December for you. At this time of year, in this part of the country, you can pretty much expect weather like this.
The roads are absolutely covered with snow, and based on the solid gray clouds in the sky, blotting out the entire thing, the snow doesn’t look like it’s going to stop anytime soon.
I can’t speak for my brothers, but I, for one, am looking forward to some unwinding time. The three of us have been so busy chasing the start of our careers that we’ve barely had time to breathe lately. Mom’s on our asses to find an omega, but…
Well, that’s complicated.
Before long, the house comes into view, and we pull up the heated driveway—the only thing currently not covered in snow.
Matteo pulls us into the large garage, and we unload.
Nothing and no one can wake Miranda when she’s deep in her beauty sleep, so we’ll probably have the house to ourselves for a few hours.
We can eat, unpack the car, and relax until our parents finally get here.
Nico is the first out of the SUV, practically racing into the house as he quips, “Outta my way, fools! This alpha’s gotta piss.”
Matteo only grunts as he gets out of the car, and I toss the alpha a look over the hood of the vehicle as I say, “Hey, at least he held it this time.”
“Small mercies,” my brother mutters. “Fuck, I’m starving.
Next time, we find some place to stay until the weather clears.
” He heads toward the door that lets into the house, following in Nico’s footsteps, as aware as I am that there are no places to stay coming up the mountain.
You’re either here, or you’re not. There is no in-between.
It’s why this house is a vacation home and not a place our family stays for too long.
It’s too much trouble getting services up here, and over two hours to the nearest grocery store that isn’t attached to a gas station.
Plus, our parents hate shopping for themselves.
I follow Matteo until we reach the kitchen, and I’m seconds from searching the cabinets to see what our sister brought when a certain smell hits me—and by hits me, I mean it nearly knocks me off my feet.
I freeze, slow in turning to Matteo, and when I do, I see that Nico only made it a few more feet deeper into the kitchen than us, having frozen a while ago.
That scent, it’s the only scent that can make all three of us tense up like we’re pinned in place.
It’s familiar, so sweet it gives a new definition to the word.
The smell of cinnamon and… apples? Yeah, cinnamon and apples, and there’s only one person in the entire world who smells like that.
It’s faint, but it’s there, and it’s unmistakable.
Matteo doesn’t say a word, but I can see his hands clenched into fists at his sides, while Nico’s nose is upturned, a thoughtful look on his face as he tries to get a better whiff. And me? I’m not much better. My heart rate instantly spiked the moment my body recognized the scent.
“Is she…” My twin has the hardest time saying that final word: “Here?” The hope laced in that word is palpable, and suddenly I feel the need to tear apart this entire house, from top to bottom, until I find her.
Who, you might be wondering? Noelle, our little sister’s best friend. Noelle, who I think hangs out at our house more than she does at hers. Noelle, an omega who smells like cinnamon-laced apples, a scent that’s driven me and my brothers crazy for years now.
It’s bad. It got to the point where Matteo can’t stand to be near her. As for Nico and me, well, we can manage it, but it takes a hell of a lot of self-restraint to keep ourselves off her.
We’re gentlemen. Usually. It’s very hard to remember what’s up and what’s down when Noelle is near, however, and based on the way the three of us reacted to the simple scent of her—a faint whiff that’s nothing compared to how strong it is when she’s actually in the room—it’s going to be a long holiday.
“Miranda didn’t say she was bringing her,” Nico goes on, clearly forgetting his need to use the bathroom. “Why didn’t she say she was bringing her?” He looks between Matteo and me, wordlessly asking for some kind of answer.
I can only shrug.
Nico turns away from us, taking a single step. “I guess I should… go… to the bathroom.” The way he says it, I can tell he doesn’t want to; he’s probably afraid he’ll miss her or something if he goes. But it’s early. I doubt Noelle will get up for a while yet.
By the time Nico returns, he finds Matteo and me sitting in the living room.
Two blankets are unfolded, left messy on the couch.
Matteo claimed the blanket Noelle must have used last night; it has to be where her apply scent is emanating from.
He runs his hands over his jeans, but I can tell he’s dying to take that blanket and bring it to his nose and inhale her deep.
“We need to talk about this,” I break the heavy silence in the room, though I do so quietly. I don’t know which room Noelle decided to take, but I don’t want to wake her, wherever she is. Not until my brothers and I hash this out.
“What’s there to talk about? Noelle’s here,” Nico says. “She’s here and I feel like I’m being suffocated, but in the best way.”
“Is there a good way to be suffocated?” I ask him.
“Uh, yes. I want to eat the blanket Matteo is sitting on.”
“You… what?” That’s a new one, even for Nico, and when he says it, he earns himself a questioning look from both me and Matteo. Just in case it needs to be said, I say it: “Don’t eat the blanket, please.”
“Of course I’m not going to eat the blanket,” he quickly says. “I’m just saying, you know, I feel like I could. She smells that good. She—” Whatever else he’s about to say dies in the back of his throat when the sound of a bedroom door being cracked open in the hall upstairs fills the air.
Matteo, Nico, and I all turn our chins up and watch as the omega in question appears, shuffling her feet until she reaches the railing on the second-floor hall, the one that overlooks this part of the first floor, just off the stairwell.
It’s like time itself stops. Everything freezes.
You could hear a pin drop as we all catch our breaths.
Noelle stands on the other side of the railing, yawning and rubbing her face, the grogginess in her evident.
She wears a set of fuzzy pajama shorts with candy canes on them, along with an oversized T-shirt that swallows her small frame up.
She looks adorable.
And then her grogginess must subside, and she realizes we’re there.
The hand rubbing her face drops to her chest, like she has to hold her heart, and her eyes widen as she meets our gazes.
She sucks in a hard breath, and then she does something she shouldn’t—something no unmatched omega should do when near an equally unmated alpha.
She runs.
Not far, mind you; she only races back to her bedroom, but it’s enough.
Seeing her turn tail, so to speak, and run away from us, is enough to make my über alpha of a brother, Matteo, to leap to his feet and chase after her.
He takes two stairs at a time, moving faster than you’d think someone of his size possibly could.
The instinct to chase her is within me, too, just as it’s inside Nico, but Nico somehow remains seated on the couch, while I get up and dart after our brother.
Up the stairwell I go, and I barely reach Matteo before he grabs the door handle to her bedroom.
I stop him with mere seconds to spare, setting a hand on his arm and tugging him back a bit, jerking him back into reality.
At first, I worry he won’t listen to reason, that he’ll use his dominance on me, and I won’t be able to resist. If he tells me to stand aside and let him enter her room, I’ll have to.
I’ll fight it like hell, but he’s our pack leader.
Going against an order would be like breaking the pack bond between us—it’s possible, but it isn’t pretty for any member involved.
Thankfully, Matteo’s tense shoulders relax, and he steps away from the closed door, heaving a soundless sigh. Together, we return to the couch in the living room, where Nico waits for us, bouncing his leg something fierce.
It’s only when Matteo sits down and grabs the blanket that smells of her that I toss my thumb over my shoulder and point upstairs. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. That—that can’t happen again. We can’t freak her out, make her feel unsafe here. She’s family.”
And she is. She’s been family for years now.
So what if it’s made being at home, in the same house as her, practically unbearable?
So what if the mere scent of her drives the three of us up a wall?
She hasn’t said anything, and Miranda has never said anything, so…
the three of us have simply chalked it up to alpha hormones.
Still, there’s that nagging little voice in the back of my head that wonders: what if it’s not just alpha hormones? What if it’s not our testosterone? What if it’s something else, something trying to tell the three of us that Noelle is supposed to be ours?
It’s not easy or fun to constantly wrestle with yourself, trust me.
“You’re right,” Matteo mutters with a frown.
“I don’t know why I did that. That wasn’t right.
” As he says these things, however, he grabs the blanket and lifts it to his face, breathing her in while both Nico and I openly stare.
His brows furrow when he notices, and he lowers the blanket to his lap and hisses out, “What? I’m allowed to smell the goddamn blanket, aren’t I? ”
Hardly anything makes our brother lose his cool. Noelle’s mere scent is enough to push him off the ledge.
It finally dawns on him that it’s a little weird, and he groans. “Fuck. This week just got a lot more complicated.”
“And hard,” Nico mutters, but his deadpanned tone quickly fades as a smile tugs on his lips. “Hard,” he says again, glancing between Matteo and me. “Get it? Because—”
I wave a hand through the air and say, “I get it. Look, our parents might not get here for a while, that means it’s just us and Miranda and Noelle.
We can’t be creeping on Noelle the whole time.
We need to play it cool, so no more chasing, no more sniffing blankets, and no jokes about anything being hard.
” Listen to me, I sound like the pack leader here.
Nico groans as his head falls back onto the couch. “Awe, you’re no fun.”
Matteo, on the other hand, nods in agreement with me. “You’re right. We need to make sure Noelle feels comfortable here. She’s spending the holiday with us for the first time. We can’t be creeps.” Under his breath, he swears, “Fucking hell, this is going to be rough.”
Suddenly, my twin sits up and leans forward, holding a single finger in the air, as if he’s had a lightbulb moment. “What if, say, Noelle decides she likes us? Do we still stay away from her, or…” The way he trails off, it’s clear he believes he’s thought of a loophole.
I know what my brothers are thinking, and I know what they’re hoping, because I’m thinking and hoping for the same thing.
That said, I doubt anything will happen; if something was going to happen, it would have happened a long time ago.
There would have been more signs from Noelle.
Either she doesn’t find us attractive, or she’s got top-tier willpower for an omega.
Matteo takes this one, his voice low, “If she says it, if she gives us a sign, then… then we go from there.”
Yeah. That’s as good of a plan as any. If it comes to it, we’ll go from there, but for now, the three of us need to be good.
We can be good, can’t we?