Chapter 7
“Guys,” I complain, watching Matteo and Quinton shove snacks into my cabinets until they’re overflowing. “I can’t take this.”
“It was buy one, get one free,” Matteo says with a shrug.
“We don’t have the space to store doubles of everything, and couldn’t leave it behind.
That’s leaving money on the table.” He puts a box of powdered sugar donuts away, then slides a jar of instant espresso beside it. “Also, who drinks instant coffee?”
I roll my eyes and cross my arms petulantly over my chest. “I use hot milk instead of water to make it.”
His eyes light up. “Ah, café con leche? It’s not my favorite way to make it, but I’ll give you a pass. Where’d you learn to do that?”
“My… ex.” The words get caught in my throat, and I give the two men my back as I take a sip of water. A rusty-sounding growl behind me has me spinning around. “Did you just growl at me?” I ask Quinton, narrowing my eyes.
He shrugs one shoulder. “Not at you. Matteo slapped my ass.” Matteo’s eyes widen, and he shoves Quinton, who stumbles to the side, laughing.
“Take the foreplay to your own trailer,” I mutter, trying not to let the thought of the two of them together heat my blood.
They’re both gorgeous men, and with the affectionate way they touch each other, like they’re not even noticing that it’s happening, it’s hard not to imagine what it would be like to be on the receiving end of both of their attentions.
A pit of yearning opens inside me, and I fight my Omega nature as I sew it back up. I’m just feeling affectionate towards them since they came nest shopping with me and got me groceries. It’s my starving Omega side feeling taken care of.
It’s not an actual desire to be a part of that.
I don’t want a man in my life at all, much less two.
And an Alpha?
Can’t do that again.
“Well, thank you both very much for your help today,” I say, sharper than I mean to. “But I need some time to-”
“Set your nest up, we know,” Quinton says with a broad, charming smile. His eyes aren’t as bloodshot as this morning, but he still has a little of that sticky cannabis smell. It’s not unpleasant. “We’ll get out of your gorgeous hair.”
Matteo closes my cabinets, which are way fuller than I intended them to be when I gave Quinton my list of needs. “We’ve got to go rehearse, anyway.”
“Are you going to come watch us tonight?” the Alpha asks with a waggle of his eyebrow. “You’ll get to see my deep-throating skills.”
I choke on my tongue, my whole body heating at the implication. Thank goodness for suppressants, or I would be mortified with the amount of pheromones that would fill this room with my scent.
Matteo smacks Quinton on the chest. “He’s a sword swallower. He’s just being crude.” The Beta snags his Alpha’s shoulders and begins to push him out of my trailer. “We’ll be going now, because it appears Q has exhausted his ability to act like a functioning member of society for the day.”
They traipse down my stairs. “Wait! How much do I owe you for the food?”
But they’re hustling away, not looking back.
My nest is perfect.
It’s the best one I have ever had, even though it’s shoved into the back of a tiny trailer. I don’t ever want to move. I will die here, happily, curled up in these blankets and cuddling with these overstuffed pillows.
It was hard, at first, to decide what I wanted.
I was utterly overwhelmed, still overstimulated from the altercation with the strange Alpha and the ride to the mall, and there was no way I could make up my mind with all the options presented to me.
But once I made that first decision, everything began to flow, and it came together in a rich, cool-toned mountain of cozy fabrics.
I was lucky they had a coupon for half off. The idea of putting any of it back made me feel sick, but there was no way I could part with that much cash. I shouldn’t have spent as much as I did, but now that I’m cozied up, I realize just how necessary spending that money was.
A good nest is so essential for an Omega. With all of the upheaval that’s happening in my life right now, I needed a place to retreat, to soothe my frayed edges.
My hair is down, wild and wavy around my face, bangs jutting in every direction, and I’m snuggled up in one of the cozy as hell lounge sets I bought, when someone starts pounding on my door. It shakes my trailer and sets my teeth on edge.
When I rip the door open, Dario, the first performer I met, is standing with another man, who looks identical to him. They can differentiate themselves through tattoos and piercings all they want. They’re still spitting images of each other.
It’s clear they’ve gone through an effort to differentiate themselves from each other, despite being identical twins, but it wasn’t necessary. No one could ever mistake one for the other, even though they share a face.
Dario has a shirt on this time, hiding the incredible figure I know is under a baggy red shirt, and the other man is glowering in a black shirt. They’re tall, with sparkling green eyes and plush lower lips.
“Yes?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest and trying not to get distracted by their pretty mouths. “It’s not office hours, and you don’t have an appointment. Is there an emergency?”
“Something like that,” Dario says, gripping his twin by the back of his shirt. “Can we please come in?”
I dip my head and step back several paces as they crowd into my space. I don’t think they do it on purpose, but both of them flare their nostrils, trying to scent me in my space.
Good luck. I’m going to great lengths to keep that from happening.
“Dexter needs a prescription for sleep meds,” Dario says.
His brother starts to protest, but he slaps his hand over his mouth.
“He’s going to tell you that he doesn’t, that he’s fine, but that’s just because he doesn’t want to be here or talk to you.
He’s got insomnia, and if he’s tired, he won’t catch me, and I could die. ”
Dexter mutters something that sounds like ‘drama queen’ against his brother’s hand.
These must be the notorious Reynolds twins. Trapeze artists, if I remember correctly from the website.
“What’s keeping you awake?” I ask Dexter, trying to catch his eye. He’s staring at the ceiling, seething. “I am not prescribing meds if you won’t talk to me.”
He rips Dario’s hand from his mouth. “I don’t need them, I’m fine. He’s being dramatic.”
“You’re not fine!” his brother hisses. He looks at me. “He’s not fine. Our father was an Omega and murdered our mother in front of us. You being here is triggering for him. He already has nightmares, and last night he didn’t sleep at all because of it. I’m not waiting until it gets bad again.”
I have to take a moment to process all the information that he throws at me and catalog it.
Omega father, murdered their mother.
They saw it.
My presence, my designation, triggers him.
I nod tightly.
“Understood. Dexter, I apologize that my sudden appearance here is distressing to you. I understand what it’s like to struggle around a specific designation, even though you know not everyone is like that.
I’ll write you a prescription for some sleep meds, and please let me know what I can do to make my presence here more comfortable for you.
If you’d prefer to text me versus coming to see me, we can arrange that.
I’ll need to check in and see how you’re adjusting to the meds, but that doesn’t have to be done face to face. ”
His body deflates a little, and he nods. He’s still not looking at me, but it’s progress.
“Thank you, Doctor,” Dario says gently. “It’s risky to do what we do when sleep deprived and…”
“Say no more.” I keep my voice soft, and I don’t step closer to the two. I don’t want to risk upsetting Dexter further. “Let me call it in. You should be able to pick it up before the show tonight.”
Dario nods and turns, leading Dexter out of the trailer. As the door closes, one of them says softly, “Thanks, Doc,” but I couldn’t say which.