Chapter 44
chapter
forty-four
Listen, bitch , I tell my Omega. We don’t have time for this shit .
As per usual, I don’t get any words back. Just the general sense that someone is narrowing their eyes at me in exasperation.
Which is rich, coming from the one who can’t pick a damn shirt.
Half of my new wardrobe isn’t here yet, but each of the guys went through what I have and took it upon themselves to provide an option for our first public appearance.
Jonah left me one of his jerseys, which I figure I could tie into a knotted crop top and throw on with some shorts . That seems too casual; the same way the collared black dress and headband Spencer laid out seems way too formal.
Avery just left out underwear.
They’re blood-red lace and made to cover scent/absorb slick, but still.
That menace.
Biting back a smile I’d never admit to, I wiggle into the panties and a black denim mini-skirt before throwing on Jonah’s enormous jersey. Once I tie it at my waist, it actually looks sort of cute.
The neckline is wide enough to slip off one of my shoulders, leaving the bare skin on display. I work my hair into a messy fishtail braid to sweep over that same shoulder and carefully situate the black bow headband from Spencer on my head.
My selection of shoes is now endless, but I somehow end up in a pair similar to the ones I arrived at the Thorne house in. Platforms with a thin ankle strap—only black velvet instead of worn pleather.
When I come out of my room, Tristan, Spencer, and Avery are waiting in the kitchen. All three of them drop their conversation and snap their focus to me.
Flashing me his quick, feral grin, Avery is the first one to approach. He claps his big, beat-up hand around the back of my thigh and slides it straight up to cup a handful of my ass, squeezing much more tenderly than he’d ever let the others see.
When he feels the panties he picked, victorious adoration glows in his ghostly blue eyes. “Bad little kitten.”
To my surprise, Spencer actually comes over next. He stands behind Avery for a long moment, looking me over before offering a nod.
“Jonah will like this,” he tells me, matter-of-fact.
The sudden, needy whine in my throat startles me. Spencer’s eyes soften, though, the dark pools warming.
He slips around my back and finds my wrists, holding them at my sides as he skims his lips up my exposed shoulder, stopping to properly kiss the fading bruise he left on my neck .
“You look very good, Miss Swanson,” he adds, a wave of approval washing over me. Soothing me. “I’m pleased.”
Lord, I should not crave his praise like I do, but I can’t help myself. Feeling dazed—and a little bit betrayed by own brain—I find Avery staring at me, his beautiful face smirking while he nods at the professor.
“Can you believe this fucking guy?”
Laughter breaks the tension crowding my chest. Avery’s smile splits into something more genuine, just as he dips forward to steal a kiss from my lips.
I’m covered in de-scenter, but they can still sense the small burst of perfume spinning off me. Spencer’s fingers stroke reassuring circles along the insides of my wrists while Avery nips my lower lip lightly.
“Mm,” he rumbles. “There she is. Perfect.”
But I’m not . So I bite him back. His jasmine and amber darken, weaving with the humid freshness rising behind me. The two alphas are arguably the most difficult to get along with—but, somehow, their scents merge into the most peaceful, all-consuming rightness .
I feel my body relax, falling back against Spencer’s, welcoming the press of Avery’s lean hips and warm abdomen. Tristan catches my gaze, smiling softly across the island while he watches his packmates embrace me.
It’s the first time, in a room full of alphas, that my perfume hasn’t caused a frenzy or some sort of faux pas. Instead, as both of the guys lean in closer and slowly breathe deeper, we’re just…
At home .
Ourselves.
I expected Avery to be the most overprotective alpha in such a huge, crowded place. Or, maybe even Tristan, if the half-bond did weird things to him.
But, no.
Spencer is the one who snarls at practically every person we pass.
Halfway along the long, curved hallway outside the stadium’s private boxes, I slip my hand into his and squeeze, shooting him a look. Most of the hostility drains from his face, his dark eyes going soft when they land on mine, but his lip stays curled in irritation.
It’s cute. I grin at his sour expression and his white-blond brows lift, that stern mouth twitching into a smirk.
“Do I amuse you, Miss Swanson?”
I give a breezy shrug. “Immensely.”
He drops my hand, only to reach back and swat my ass hard enough to send me forward a step. “You know what I do to brats, Miss Swanson.”
Yeah, that’s sort of the point . Flashing a grin, I keep my voice as sweet as can be. “Yes, Professor.”
His scent spikes while his nostrils flare. Avery chortles, slipping his arm around my waist. “Getting the professor all hot and bothered?”
Tristan gives me another of those slight, approving smiles, then tosses his brother a smirk. “I think the student is quickly becoming the master.”
I’m still giggling when a hand closes around my arm. “Hey?—”
A hard spike of fear stabs my gut, forcing a whine up my throat. Spencer unleashes a roaring growl while Avery immediately snaps into action, ripping me off my feet and holding me against his chest, baring his teeth.
A small blonde blinks at me from my former place on the ground, the older, black-suited alpha behind her gnashing his teeth at mine. “Oh,” she says. “Sorry.”
I hate the shiver that racks my body, but there’s no help for it. Ave te nderly tucks my head under his chin, glaring at the beautiful omega with a frown on her face.
Tristan steps in front of his packmates, extending his hand—to the omega .
A lot of alphas would ignore her and reach over to shake the tattooed hand of the man at her back. But Tristan offers her his handshake instead. “I’m Tristan Thorne. You’re the Ash Pack’s omega, yes? The one who does media for the team? Jonah has mentioned you.”
When the woman doesn’t move, her alpha shakes Tristan’s hand. “Senator Thorne,” he says. “I’m Ronan Ash. I believe we met at a mixer last summer.”
Tristan nods, his expression losing some of its tension. “Serena,” he says, looping me in. “This is the owner of the Ospreys and his omega…”
At my alpha’s lifted brows, the blonde snaps out, “Meg.” Her pretty blue eyes narrow as she runs them over my face. “Sorry to come stomping over here. I didn’t mean to freak you out.”
I cringe. “It’s a little too easy to do lately. Not your fault.”
“Serena’s about to go into heat,” Spencer informs the pair, still every bit as forbidding as he was a moment ago. “Archer is treating her.”
Tristan’s earlier introduction finally sinks in. I gasp. “Wait, you’re Dr. Monroe ’s omega?”
Meg pauses but smiles slightly. “Um, yeah. I take it you’ve met him?”
I nod quickly. “He helped me when—” I only barely catch myself. “He was there when I really needed some help. He’s an amazing doctor.”
Pride beams all over her face. “He really is.”
The air around us suddenly feels awkward. I try to squirm out of Avery’s arms, but he just hugs me closer. “Well… sorry for freaking out.”
Meg grins. “Happens to the best of us,” she says, tossing her alpha a secret smile. “Trust me. I’ll tell Archer you said hi! ”
They wander off, leaving me wondering if I might have just met a potential… friend?
But then, of course, Avery drops his pout into the crook of my neck, nuzzling. “That was fucking weird.”
I smack his side, which only makes him hold me tighter. “Mmm, baby. You want me to fuck you in the skybox?”
Spencer starts to glare, and Tristan’s expression darkens, but the faint burst of perfume that makes it past all of my de-scenter pauses both of them.
Avery flashes a feral grin. “See? I know what my girl likes.”