Chapter 58
fifty-eight
brIAR
Turns out, being the rope in a carnal tug-of-war between three big, sexy alphas is a bit hard on the knees.
I hiss quietly, slipping out of bed from the bottom of the mattress. It’s the only way, I’ve learned, to pee in peace. Without three highly invested bodyguards waiting for me to scamper back to them.
Especially my big man, who practically strangled me with his cuddles until his knot released. I only managed to escape his clutches by gradually sliding lower and lower until I got to his legs and broke free from his stacked arms.
Outside, the moon is full and bright, backlighting the silhouette of Cillian’s rosebushes.
I smirk ruefully, shaking my head as I realize I haven’t even asked him to prune them.
It’s a perfect metaphor, really—I was determined to have the damn things torn down for weeks…
but now that I know they were never what they seemed, I’m not sure I could stomach removing them.
It would be a shame to cut the roses back now, anyway. They’re finally in full bloom—hundreds of ruby furls and snow-white blossoms gently swaying in their nests of thorns.
Nest. That word feels like a siren call, illuminating a path to my center with twinkling lights and gleaming anticipation.
It won’t be long now, my Omega tells me, her voice somewhere between a warning and an apology. We’ll probably start nesting tomorrow.
Somehow, I don’t feel daunted by that idea at all. Knowing Rhys, he’s likely been researching heat stuff for weeks. Dane will be supportive and patient with me, as always. And Cillian… he’ll be so pleased that I’m listening to my instincts. Proud.
I watch my three sleeping alphas for a moment, letting contentment sink into my bones. It’s hard to leave them, even to creep into the bathroom. But once I’m in there, I realize I’m starving and decide to sneak downstairs and look for takeout leftovers.
Dane and I realized we could dip our thin-crust cheese pizza into butter chicken; now I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to eat it without curry.
Just the memory has my mouth watering. I cast the guys a sly look, tugging some of Dane’s joggers and one of my camisoles on before padding for the exit as quietly as I can.
I tiptoe all the way around the second floor’s semi-circular hall, intent on taking the back stairs to the kitchen. But there’s a shadow in my path.
No, wait. Two shadows.
“Oh!”
The two men leap apart, one grunting while the other whines. They whip their faces in my direction. My stomach somersaults with chagrin as amusement bolts into my throat.
“Madame,” Louis gasps, reaching down to hold his unbuckled pants around his hips. “Coggins and I were just, er—”
The salt-and-pepper haired butler visibly suppresses a snarl of displeasure, blinking until the feral light ebbs from his gaze.
“Our deepest apologies, Mrs. Blackwood,” the proper man drawls. “Louis and I were just...”
He trails off, likely hunting for some fabled task that would explain why they were all over each other in the stairwell.
I smirk. “Fucking?”
Their scents shift. Without the neutralizers dulling their essences, I clearly catch bitter licorice from the alpha and something freshly-baked for Louis. Stress strengthens their aromas.
I try not to wrinkle my nose, but my Omega instantly whines. Wanting our alphas and no one else’s.
The butler and valet exchange stricken glances. It occurs to me that I’m the mistress of the house—and therefore, technically in charge. I’m sure these men have been hiding whatever might be blooming between them since we removed the descenters from the house.
They probably didn’t know how to tell Cillian. I picture my alpha’s intimidating stare. I wouldn’t…
Especially since Coggins practically raised my alphas. And Louis is a more recent employee, who depends on this job for himself and his sister.
“It’s okay,” I rush to reassure. “I won’t tell anyone! Unless… you want me to?”
Coggins shakes his head with a harrumph, but I catch the way he reaches for Louis’s hand, tucking it in his own while the other omega trembles.
Empathy softens my features. “Go up to the third floor,” I whisper. “There won’t be anyone up there tonight. And I promise not to say anything.”
The men exchange a loaded look before Coggins dips into a bow. “Thank you, Madame. Good night.”
Louis clumsily follows his lead, blushing as he mumbles something in French and follows the butler up the stairs. I watch them go, my chest full of unfamiliar warmth.
Maybe it won’t just be our pack here, I think, smiling to myself. And perhaps we could all be… a weird kind of family. Even Fiona, if I can find the time to make friends with her.
I’m still mulling over that as I enter the kitchen. My thoughts stop short, my eyes flying to the lone item on the center island.
The small vase sparkles in a shaft of moonlight from the back window, drawing my gaze to the single red rose sitting in it.
It’s clearly from our garden. I wonder which of the guys brought it in.
Probably Rhys.
He’s been achingly romantic ever since our night at the ballet. Almost as if he picked up on how much I secretly loved all the frills in the story. He must have snuck down here and cut a rose for me while Dane and I were still knotted in the bath earlier.
Grinning, I lean over the island to sniff the flower before continuing on to scour our fridge.
It’s funny, really. The night I lost my sister, I didn’t hear a thing. Because I was so miserable, I hid from the world with headphones to drown out reality.
This time, though? It’s because I’m so stupidly happy.
As I bounce in front of the refrigerator, I don’t notice that one shadow is longer than all the others. I don’t hear the rustle of fabric over the song I’m humming. And I can’t see the needle aimed at the nape of my neck.
Poised to plunge me into oblivion.