Chapter 53
Chapter fifty-three
Red
Gooey might be the best word to describe my pack as we get off the plane a half a day later. Not on the outside, obviously, since we all cleaned up. But we aren’t exactly springing like gazelles after a weekend sexathon.
Instead, we sneak small touches, slip our hands into each other’s and share soft smiles as we come back to reality—not a cold and harsh reality but one full of amazement as we navigate being a four-person pack.
Fitting in cars, holding hands, ordering takeout for all our tastes. It’s all new and exciting.
We eat burgers in the car to avoid crowds while we wait for my after-hours private booking at The Nest House.
I didn’t even know they did solo bookings—for a price—but I’m super glad, since we aren’t supposed to have Zack out in public.
Not sure how filming will go, but I think Zack’s used to everyone we work with now.
Giddy at the prospect of an outing with all three of my men, I wolf down my veggie-patty burger and then spend the next hour wriggling with impatience—at least until Zack takes me in hand and kisses me until I forget anything else exists. It’s just enough distraction to get me through.
As we drive up to the gigantic store and get out of the car, reporters come running across the car park, wanting to know about Zack’s release.
It’s a slight delay, but I’m happy to talk to them since the media helped us with the petition.
I take a moment to thank everyone who got involved and cryptically comment that they’ll hear more about feral rehabilitation from us in the future.
Finally, we step inside the shop, where a team in cute blue and black checkered uniforms waits to greet us.
“Holy shit,” I mutter, turning in a circle to see everything. Escalators stretch out like dark rivers leading to the tiered floors boasting an insane range from incense burners to transportable nest rooms and everything in between.
Rickon whistles. “Where do we even start?” he murmurs.
“Plants!” I declare, thinking about how I want my hothouse to look. “Tropical, green, and alive.”
A beta attendant steps forward, her name tag reading Violet. “We have some custom carts here to drive, so you can select everything you need.” She points down one side of the open entry foyer, and I feast my eyes on golf carts with trays on the back to carry our shopping.
“Abso-fucking-lutely,” I gasp, pulse already racing at top speed. We ride in them around the filming set, and every time thought it was a shame I wasn’t driving. I dash over with my laughing alphas hot on my tail.
“God help us,” Callisto says. “Red driving?”
“Lucky the store’s already clear,” Rickon adds.
I swing into the driver’s seat, grinning from ear to ear. “I might drive over your foot just for that.”
Violet asks for permission to sit next to me, and I have to agree because she’s holding the ignition key hostage. She points out the pedal, the brake and a forward and backward switch. I clap my hands in glee as the vehicle shivers to life.
“Wait a sec,” Calli calls, stepping on the seat to reach the cab roof. He slings his jacket up over the top. Seeing us all staring at him like he’s lost his mind, he says, “There’s a revolving caution light up there.”
My heart damn near bursts. We all know the gory details about the fight rings and flashing lights, but Callisto’s the only one who thought about the everyday practical applications to protect Zack.
“Bless you,” I murmur.
He blows me a kiss and climbs in the back.
The clerk checks everyone is seated and then gives me a nod. “We need to go up to the roof for the garden section,” she says, pointing to a triple-width elevator dead ahead. “See if you can get us there.”
“Oh, I was made to get us there,” I promise, stomping on the pedal. We lurch forward, and poor Violet grabs the frame for dear life. After half a dozen jerks, I get the hang of the beast, grinning like a lunatic as I maneuver us along the polished concrete walkway.
Halfway to the elevator, Zack calls out, “Red, stop!” He leans over my shoulder and points to a display. “I go there.”
I drift the cart over to one side and even before we stop moving, Zack bolts off his seat.
My stomach lurches. What if he saw a worker who set him off, or another light?
We all jump out, probably thinking the same thing, but Zack’s back before we make it three steps.
A long skinny object dangles from his hands.
He holds his hands out, revealing a black and white dog collar and leash. “Zack want this on.”
My breath hitches. “Zack, we did that because you didn’t know about the world, but you can understand us now, so I don’t think you need a leash anymore.”
“No,” he says emphatically, shaking his head.
“Pack rule, so I keep rules.” He frowns as he glances at the leash, mouth opening over several silent words as he finds his way.
“Zack still learn. Wear leash to keep all safe until I know more.” The alpha rips the collar from its packaging and clips the plastic ends together around his neck before offering the leash to Ricky. “Keep me?”
My heart thumps heavily as Rickon pulls our prime in for a hug.
“We’ll keep you always, Zack,” he promises. When he steps back, he waves the leash end in Zack’s face. “This is just until you learn more, okay? Well, unless it becomes a kink or something.” He chuckles under his breath, and I have to say I don’t mind the idea at all.
“Yes,” Zack answers simply.
Callisto grips Zack’s shoulder wordlessly, but he beams with the same pride flowing in my veins. Zack’s become wise enough to lean on others.
“All right!” I declare, tamping down on the emotional outburst threatening to rise. “Ding ding! All aboard the Red-mobile. Train’s leaving the station.”
The cab bounces as we get back in, Zack sitting beside Rickon. A glance over my shoulder shows Rickon staring down at the leash, a cute smile tilting his lips. Before we leave, I might have to find the BDSM section to see what leather products the store has.
On the top floor, we drive out into half a mile of nursery. At one end, trees taller than Zack grow in canvas bags too heavy to lift by hand, and at the other we find outdoor furniture, gazebos, and birdbaths.
I clap my hand to my mouth as my heart jolts. “Oh, shit, Rickon! I forgot all about Ozzie.”
He reaches forward to squeeze my shoulder. “Don’t stress. Lector’s been checking in on him.”
I groan. Thank God for that. “Phew, okay. Heart check done.” A row of gorgeous yellow flowers on tall stems catches my eye, and I abandon the cart to check them out.
“Wow,” I mutter, discovering more color variations as I move down the row.
Orange with yellow centers, peach with soft lemon, and midnight purple with lime streaks.
A quick check of the tags tells me they are daylilies.
“Is this the part where I say I want from here to there?” I swing my arm along the row.
Callisto answers immediately. “Yes, gorgeous. Go for it.”
“Wait a sec,” Rickon says with a laugh. “We better figure out what you’re going to put them in first. Our roof isn’t as big as this garden aisle.”
I pout a little in play, but my spirits soar as Rickon takes me over to the section with pots and garden boxes. A dazzling giant pot covered in colorful mosaic steals my heart.
“This!” I declare, hugging my arms around it. I can already see how the garden will look with all these rainbow colors half-hidden among lush green ferns, palms, and those beautiful daylilies.
“Yeah, now that’s stunning,” Ricky agrees, running his free hand over the surface.
“Okay, I think I’ll make this the theme of the whole hothouse. I turn to my guys. “Zack?” I hook my thumb at the pot. “Do you like the colors?”
“Zack like,” he confirms.
When I glance at Calli, he smiles with his eyes. “Red, you choose whatever makes your heart sing . . . but I do agree the mosaic motif suits you perfectly.”
Fuck, he’s so right. I’m made up of hundreds of different experiences and roles, forming a glorious, colorful whole.
Broken pieces made beautiful. I throw myself into Callisto’s arms and hug him tight, marveling over how natural it feels.
He’s really here as part of my pack, shopping and telling me his thoughts.
“I might die of happiness,” I mutter.
“Not today,” he whispers, kissing me soundly.
Rickon pulls up the hot house measurements, and we roughly work out floor space before I pick out dozens of the pretty pots in different sizes, some with random patterns and others with flowers.
When I find one in the back with the tile pieces forming sunflowers, I pop it in the tray thinking I’ll give it to Leanne with a pretty daylily.
Next come wooden planter boxes with wide edges for sitting on, a fountain to hang on the wall in a corner, and an order for enough potting soil to make a corn farmer jealous.
Callisto suggests white rocks for topping the pots and planters, which sounds amazing, and I discover an awesome special-order arch made of rustic wooden poles which will serve beautifully as an entrance.
Which means I need a climbing plant to go on it.
The staff bring two more golf carts up as I move on to plants. I go a little crazy selecting palms as tall as Zack, a huge range of daylilies, bromeliads, ferns, orchids, hanging baskets, and plants with patterned leaves.
When I stop to catch my breath, Rickon takes my hand. “Don’t wear out yet. We still have to look for some kind of bed.”
“Well, thank fuck for the carts,” I say, sounding as winded as I feel. Who knew shopping could be so exhausting?
Callisto drapes his arms over my shoulders from behind. “I guess I’m probably to blame for your state, right?”
“Even if you’re not, I’m happy to blame it on you,” I say cheekily. I slip around so I can hug him and rise on my tiptoes for a kiss. We lean into each other, the kiss quickly turning heated.
When Calli’s hands drop to my ass cheeks and I moan, Rickon steps in and pushes us apart.
“I’m gonna stop you right there,” he says firmly. “Red has to film a racing scene on Thursday, so no third base until after that.” He cocks his head and translates for Zack. “That means no sex.”
I gasp. “But that’s two days away.”
He levels me with a knowing look, and I deflate. “Yeah, probably a good call. Already feels like I’m walking around with a balloon between my legs.”
He and Calli both snort.
Callisto shakes his head sadly. “All right, but since it’s my fault, I better take responsibility.” He sweeps me up into his arms, tossing me over his shoulder. “Which way, my lady?”
I laugh and count on my fingers. “I want big bulb lights like the ones in the tent, a daybed, red gauze, and a giant birdcage for Ozzie. We can’t leave him in the house while we’re up in the hothouse.”
Rickon groans. “Bloody hell, I can already hear that bird’s vocab descending into the gutters.”
I chuckle.
Look out, Wild Red. This time you won’t win, I promise. Not when I have all my alphas around me.
“Let’s finish up so we can go home,” I tell my men.