Chapter 46
Bayleigh
Another dinner at the Brooks house. Except now it’s with the newly formed Brooks Pack.
But tonight feels different—warmer, closer, like something low and electric is humming under all our skin. The beginning of something new, and I’m here for it.
It starts the second I step into the kitchen. The familiarity, the rightness of the moment.
We move around the space as though we’ve done it a million times, even though this rhythm is new for us.
Milton sets out ingredients, his lips moving, and I catch that he’s singing a song I know.
Korbin gets my attention and tells me it’s off key, and some of the words are made up since he doesn’t remember all of them.
Lincoln stands at the stove, stirring the contents of a simmering pot.
Korbin moves aimlessly around setting the table, expression unreadable, but his presence unmistakable.
I’m at the counter beside Lincoln chopping vegetables. He steps behind me, reaching around my hip for the wooden spoon. His hand brushes against my arm lightly, but I feel the tingles running all the way up my spine.
Sorry, he signs, except I don’t think he’s sorry at all.
I try to keep my voice steady as I speak. “You did,” I clear my scratchy throat, swallow, then mouth the rest, “that on purpose.”
His smirk tells me I’m right as he signs.
Maybe.
Milton swipes the container of cauliflower, carrots, and broccoli I just chopped.
“Milton,” I mouth, fighting to hold back my laughter. “Give those back.”
“Nope. You want them, you gotta come get them.” He winks, picks up a piece of carrot and pops it into his mouth like a gremlin.
I smirk back at him. He thinks he’s won, but he’s wrong. I step away from Lincoln toward Milton. He realizes I’m coming after him. He winks, moves the container, lifting it over his head, and starts backing away as he laughs.
“This is harassment,” I say while signing. I know they’ve been learning and they’ve been trying to work it into our conversations so they can practice.
“This is teamwork,” Milton corrects, speaking slowly. “Motivational teamwork. Plus, if it gets you to chase me, then I’m not going to complain.”
Lincoln taps me on the shoulder. “He’s lucky he’s cute,” his lips say, but what he signs isn’t exactly the same, so I quickly show him the correct way, and he nods in appreciation while repeating it.
Milton steps in front of me, leaning in and kissing me softly on the lips, then hands the bowl back to me before speaking. “I heard that!”
“You were supposed to,” Lincoln fires back, causing the three of us to laugh.
Korbin doesn’t say much, but he’s there, watching our interactions with thoughtful eyes.
Steady, solid. Steam billows up from the stove, and Korbin angles himself between me and the heat, protecting me from any potential danger.
His scent rolls low and grounding—peach and honeydew—something that settles in my chest.
Baby steps. With each passing day, the more time we spend together, he’s letting his guard down. I think speaking with my brother really changed things between us.
Every time one of them comes close to me, their alpha pheromones brush against me—sandalwood, peach, grapefruit. It slides over my skin, under it, curling down my spine.
And worst of all… or best of all… my own omega scent rises in response.
Sweet. Warm. Embarrassing.
They notice.
I know they do.
Because instead of running, they move closer to me.
We need to get dinner done, or we’re going to starve. I step away from them and back to the counter, picking up the knife to finish chopping the last of the vegetables.
I can feel their eyes on me, and my body heats with excitement.
For the first time in my life, I truly feel wanted.
That a pack sees me as the perfect omega for them.
Slowly, all the doubt of my past starts to slip away.
All the names I’ve been called, the abuse I was forced to endure, the heartbreak, has helped mold me into the woman I am today.
We all get back to cooking dinner. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t flushed and lightheaded from more than the steam of the pots. The air is thick with us, our scents overlapping until it’s hard to tell where one of them ends and the others begin.
Milton keeps brushing his fingers against mine whenever he hands me a dish.
Lincoln keeps guiding me with soft touches to my waist, barely there, but enough to make my knees wobble.
And Korbin… well, he watches me like he’s memorizing every micro–reaction—every breath, every shift, every tiny shiver that escapes me.
The tension between us winds tighter with every shared look, every brush of skin, every warm exhale of breath.
I’m starving, but not for food. For them.
Dinner was delicious.
We ate, talked and laughed. They practiced signing, and when they got something wrong, I’d show them the correct way. Even Korbin attempted to sign basic words.
“Korbin has dishes tonight!” Lincoln announces, and Korbin rolls his eyes.
Milton takes my hand in his, helping me to stand as he guides me to the living room. I sit down on the couch, and Milton takes a seat beside me, but leaves some space between us.
My whole body feels warm, loose, and strangely soft, like my instincts have decided something before my brain can catch up.
Their giant sectional could easily fit six people without touching. I last about thirty seconds sitting where I am before Milton crooks a finger, motioning me to move closer to him.
I do.
He pulls me against his side, arm snug against mine, as he rests his hand beside my thigh. Warmth rushes through me immediately, instinctively. Lincoln settles down on the other side of me, arm resting along the back of the couch behind me—close enough that I feel the heat of him along my spine.
A few minutes later, Korbin steps into the room, pulls an oversized bean bag over, and sits on it in front of my legs.
I’m surrounded.
Their scents—stronger now, calmer somehow—wrap around me until I’m cocooned in them. Safe in them.
My omega instincts purr in happiness.
A low vibration thrums in my chest before I can stop it.
Milton’s eyebrows shoot up as his hand grips my thigh. My eyes turn to him at the same time he speaks. “Was that—?”
No, I sign immediately, face hot.
My head shoots to Lincoln, who’s grinning, wicked and delighted. You sure?
Korbin's hand touches my knee as he looks at me smugly. “It was.”
I groan and try to hide my face with my hands, but Lincoln pulls them away.
I hate all of you. I pout.
Milton presses a kiss to the top of my head, laughing softly. “No, you don’t.”
Korbin shifts just enough that his knee brushes my leg. “Go ahead,” he says. “You’re safe.”
The purr rumbles again, louder this time. The air changes instantly. Sandalwood deepens, citrus sharpens and honeydew unfurls slow and steady, wrapping around me like a promise.
No one teases me for it.
They look at me with pride, approval, and lust. No, not lust, it’s love.
“Movie,” I change the subject. “You promised me a movie.”
Lincoln smiles at me, then picks up the remote from the end table and turns the television on. He flicks through the streaming apps and picks a television series for us to watch. I’ve seen it before, but I don’t tell them. I actually love the series. Too bad it’s over.
We sit there, content in our little group. Each of them take turns giving me small touches. Lincoln pulls a blanket over us, and I reposition so that my head rests on his shoulder as his fingers weave through my hair.
We don’t speak. Don’t sign. Just enjoy each others’ company as we watch Lost Girl.
At some point my eyes become heavy, and I start losing the battle to keep them open.
Someone—Lincoln, judging by the movement on the side he’s sitting on—tucks the blanket around me from where it fell down. Someone else runs a thumb along the back of my hand in languid, reassuring circles. And Milton puts a pillow behind my head.
Each of them showing me their own affection.
Warmth wins. My eyelids grow heavy, the room dimming, and their heat sinks into my bones. Their breathing surrounds me like a lullaby. My omega instincts soften fully, melting in the middle of them, between them, because every biological part of me recognizes something here.
Safety. Pack. Home.
I drift off breathing them in—sandalwood, peach, grapefruit.
I fall asleep tucked between their bodies, wrapped in their warmth.
And I sleep knowing I am safe. That I fully belong here with these men.