Chapter 17
Gabriel
The new building plans are in my briefcase as I speed from the airport.
The meeting with the architects went as planned.
Better than planned. We found elegant solutions to preserve the historic facade of Kimmie’s restaurant while integrating it into the new structure and keep everything proceeding almost according to schedule.
So why do I feel like I’m about to crawl out of my skin?
Eighteen unanswered calls to my pack brothers, that’s why. Eighteen! Not being able to get in touch with one of them is one thing. All three of them being unreachable for hours on end is fucking unheard of.
The sick feeling in my gut started when Ms. Peters tracked me down at the architect’s office. My usually unflappable assistant was flustered and apologetic about a message from Kimmie—hours old by then—asking for help. My alpha instincts had gone from uneasy to screaming.
Something must really be wrong. I’m the last person Kimmie would call for help, unless the situation is dire.
And no one could help her but me.
I’d spent the plane ride alternating between calling her restaurant, her cell phone and my pack brothers, all to no avail.
I nearly run a red light, my hands white knuckled on the steering wheel. The last time I felt this kind of urgency was when Tanner was injured in the ring before he retired. But this is different. More primal. More desperate.
I park illegally in front of her building, leaving the car half on the curb. The street is quiet. Lunch rush is long over, and it’s too early for evening commuters to clog the sidewalks. The “CLOSED” sign hangs in the restaurant window.
The scent hits me halfway up the stairs to her apartment, and I nearly miss a step. It’s Kimmie, but deeper, richer, thicker with arousal. The same way she’d smelled when I was on top of her in my guest bedroom, but—more.
My fist connects with her door hard enough to make the hinges rattle. “Kimmie!”
I’m about to knock again when the door swings open to reveal Tanner wearing nothing but a towel slung low on his hips.
His hair is damp like he’s just showered.
My brain short circuits for a moment as I try to process what I’m seeing.
Water droplets trail down his chest, and he smells like… like… “What the hell?”
“Nice of you to join us,” he drawls, maddeningly calm. Like answering Kimmie’s door practically naked is perfectly normal. Something dark and possessive rears up in my chest.
Behind him, I catch a glimpse through the bedroom doorway.
Leo and Elliot, equally underdressed, are tending to Kimmie with the kind of gentle attention that makes my alpha hindbrain want to howl.
She’s dozing on her side with her knees tucked up to her chest and one hand curled under her chin while they carefully work tangles from her damp curls.
Her expression is peaceful in a way I’ve never seen it.
The sight of my pack brothers touching her with such intimacy makes me want to tear the door off its hinges.
Elliot looks up and holds a finger to his lips. “Shh. She just fell asleep.”
I shoulder past Tanner into the apartment and nearly stagger as the full force of Kimmie’s scent hits me—and sex.
Lots and lots of sex.
My vision actually blurs for a moment, and I have to lock my knees to stay upright. Her apartment is not the utilitarian dwelling I expected. There’s new furniture and soft throws everywhere. Candles are burning.
It looks like…a nest. Comfort layered into every throw and candle. My cock stirs helplessly as the truth slams into me. Kimmie made an omega’s nest.
But that’s impossible. She’s a beta. A beta who smells like heaven, but still…
Tanner closes the door and leans against it. His casual pose is belied by the tension in his shoulders. He’s ready to move if I make one wrong step. “She’s an omega,” he says quietly. “Triggered by the flu. Dr. Hilliard confirmed it.”
“And you three just happened to be here?” The words come out as a growl. Images flash through my mind—my pack with Kimmie, touching her, tasting her, claiming what should have been mine…ours…without me.
“She called for help.” His voice hardens. “Hours ago. We came as soon as we got the message. Kimmie needed us right away. Surely you didn’t expect us to wait for you?”
The accusation stings, but he’s right. I should have been here. If I’d listened to my pack brothers, I’d have been here to help her through this transition. They were there for her, and I’m simultaneously grateful and furious.
“You can’t seriously expect me to be okay with this,” I say, though part of me is practically purring at the sight of my pack caring for our…No. Not ours. She’s not ours.
Not yet. Maybe never if she won’t accept me. That thought makes my gut clench.
“Actually, I do.” Tanner crosses his arms, muscles flexing in a subtle reminder that he can back up his words with action if necessary.
He may defer to me as pack alpha in business matters, but in this, I can see he won’t bend.
“Because she’s going to be our omega, Gabriel.
You agreed to courting, but that’s just a formality at this point.
The pack has already decided. She’s ours—all of ours.
The sooner you get used to it, the better. ”
Before I can respond, movement from the bedroom catches my eye.
Kimmie emerges, flanked by Leo and Elliot like honor guards.
She’s wrapped in a gold velvet robe, copper hair falling in damp waves and ringlets around her shoulders.
The sight of her—sleep soft and marked by my pack’s scent—does things to my control I don’t want to examine too closely.
Her eyes meet mine for just a moment before skittering away. A flush spreads across her cheeks, and her scent spikes with…embarrassment? Desire? Both? The omega pheromones rolling off her make it hard to think straight.
“I should go make some food,” Tanner says, reading the tension crackling between us. “She needs to eat after…” He clears his throat. “Come on, guys.”
Leo and Elliot follow him to the apartment’s kitchen.
After the door swings shut behind them, Kimmie won’t quite meet my eyes, but her scent…
God, her scent is devastating—and all mixed up with the lingering traces of my pack on her skin.
It’s simultaneously the best and worst thing I’ve ever smelled.
God, I want to be a part of it. I want to bury my face in her neck and inhale until I drown in it.
“So,” she says softly. “I guess we need to talk.”
I’ve negotiated billion-dollar deals. Managed a pack of strong willed alphas.
But somehow, this one woman has me more off balance than any of that.
Because this isn’t just about the building anymore.
It’s not even about the pack. It’s about her—this impossible, infuriating woman who’s turned my ordered world upside down in less than a week.
“Yes,” I manage, trying not to sound too eager. “I suppose we do.”