Epilogue 2
Mia
The fence is white.
It’s not the green hedge that used to separate the yards. It’s fresh, painted, gleaming wood that stands bright against the overcast gray of the morning.
A white picket fence.
I look out the kitchen window as I flip the bacon, watching the rain drip off the white slats. It looks exactly like the storyboard I made when I revealed as an omega as a teen. The symbol of the safe, boring life I thought I needed.
Except inside the fence, nothing is boring.
In the backyard, Rhys is standing on a ladder in the rain.
He’s wearing a soaked t-shirt that clings to every ridge of his back, drilling bolts into a heavy timber frame.
A swing set. He’s been working on the structure for three weekends in a row, reinforcing it like it needs to withstand a hurricane.
Declan is below him, holding the ladder steady and handing up bolts from a tool belt, his hair plastered to his forehead but grinning as he shouts something up to Rhys.
I smile, turning back to the stove.
The kitchen is warm, smelling of maple syrup, dark roast coffee, and the thick, settled scent of us. I’m humming, nudging a sausage link with the spatula, when the air behind me shifts. Heat radiates from him a split second before the heavy arms wrap around my waist.
Knox.
I lean back into the solid wall of muscle, my head finding the familiar groove of his shoulder. He buries his face in the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply, his morning stubble dragging a delicious scratch over my skin.
“You smell like syrup,” he rumbles, his voice rough with sleep.
“Morning,” I murmur. “Breakfast is ten minutes out.”
“Don’t care about breakfast.”
His teeth graze the sensitive skin where my neck meets my shoulder.
He finds the spot. The scar.
It’s been six months, but the four bite marks are still there. Pale, silvery ridges where they claimed me. Knox kisses the scar he made, his tongue tracing the raised skin, and a shiver works its way down my spine, settling heavy in my belly.
“Knox,” I warn, leaning back against him despite the protest. “I’m cooking. Hot grease.”
“Turn it off.”
“I’m hungry.”
“So am I.”
His hands slide down from my waist to my hips. He squeezes, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh, pulling me back against his erection. He’s hard. He’s always hard in the morning.
He reaches past me and clicks the burner dial to Off.
“Knox—”
The world tilts.
He grips my hips and swings me up, spinning me around and setting me on the cool surface of the island.
My legs wrap around his waist, heels locking at the small of his back before I even think about it, and he settles instantly between them, shoving my oversized t-shirt up to find nothing underneath.
I stopped bothering with layers months ago; they never stay on long enough to matter.
Knox growls when he sees I’m bare. “Good girl,” he murmurs, his thumbs dragging over my hip bones. My body recognizes him instantly, slicking down just from the weight of his hands on me, the scent of his arousal flooding the space between us.
He frees himself from his boxers, as he lines himself up and pushes in.
It’s lazy. It’s heavy. The kind of sex you have when you know you aren’t going anywhere.
I gasp, my head falling back as he fills me completely.
“There,” he breathes, his forehead resting against mine. “Hi.”
I let out a shaky laugh, threading my fingers through his messy hair. “Hi.”
He starts to move, a slow, rolling rhythm that hits all the deep spots.
I rock with him, my back arching to meet the heavy drag of his hips.
The heavy tread of footsteps on the stairs doesn’t even make us pause.
Knox just grinds harder as Eli rounds the corner, looking rumpled and relaxed in his gray sweats, empty mug in hand.
He stops in the doorway and takes in the scene, watching us with dark, possessive satisfaction.
“Productive morning.” He draws out the words, his voice dropping an octave.
“Helping,” Knox grunts, not breaking his rhythm. He snaps his hips forward, dragging a moan from my throat.
Eli walks over, setting his mug down on the counter next to my hip. He comes to my side, his hand sliding up my back to grip the nape of my neck. His thumb strokes the bite mark there.
“Good,” he murmurs before leaning down and kissing me, deep and slow, tasting Knox’s name on my tongue. He feeds me his calm, his authority, while Knox feeds me his fire.
I come with a broken sob, tightening around Knox.
He follows me seconds later, groaning my name into my neck, spilling into me warm and deep.
He stays there for a long time, holding me, letting the aftershocks fade.
When he finally slows, he doesn’t withdraw, just rests his forehead against mine with his hand splayed over my stomach, keeping us anchored until the back door slides open. A gust of rain-scented air swirls through the kitchen as Declan and Rhys stomp in from the deck, shaking off water.
Rhys wipes rain from his eyes, looking satisfied, his t-shirt soaked through. Declan looks cheerful, swinging the tool belt off his hip.
“Swing set is solid.” Rhys wipes rain from his face. “If a tornado hits, the house will go, but the swings will stand.”
“Good to know,” I manage.
Declan sniffs the air, gaze flicking from the stove to us. “Bacon burn?”
“Saved it,” Knox says, finally easing out of me. He kisses my nose and helps me hop down from the counter, adjusting my shirt for me. “Multitasking.”
Rhys walks past me to the sink. As he passes, his hand brushes my lower back. He pauses, sniffing the air near my neck.
“You look wrecked,” he murmurs approvingly. “Good color on you.”
“I need a shower,” I say, though I make no move to leave. I’m leaning against the counter, legs wobbly, feeling thoroughly kept.
“Later,” Declan says, setting the toolbelt down. He wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me into his side, dropping a kiss on the top of my head. “Eat first.”
Eli pours a fresh cup of coffee from the pot and slides it across the island to me.
I lift the mug, inhaling the steam, and the smell hits me wrong.
I wrinkle my nose, leaning back from the steam. It smells like dirt.
Eli looks up, eyes sharp. “You okay?”
“Yeah, just…” I set the mug down, pushing it away. “Coffee smells weird. Did we switch beans?”
His eyes narrow slightly. “Same beans we always use. Weird how?”
“I don’t know. Too earthy maybe? Or maybe I’m just tired.”
He doesn’t say anything, but I feel something shift in the air. A flicker of awareness that radiates off him.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing,” he says, but his gaze drops to my stomach for just a second before snapping back to my eyes.
My heart skips a beat.
No.
No, that’s not—
I do the math in my head. My last heat was…
Oh.
Oh no.
“I need a minute,” I blurt, backing away from the island.
Eli’s mouth curves, just a fraction. “Want company?”
“No. I’m fine. I just…I need to check something.”
He doesn’t argue, but I can feel his amusement vibrating in the air.
I turn and run toward the stairs.
My legs feel light, my heart hammering against my ribs as I take the steps two at a time. I rush into the nest’s ensuite and lock the door, leaning back against the wood for a second to breathe.
My scent has been different lately. Sweeter. Richer. I thought it was just usual omega stuff. The result of being thoroughly claimed and happy, but if Eli noticed…
I dig through the cabinet under the sink, shoving aside boxes of tissues and extra soap until my fingers brush the small cardboard box I bought weeks ago. Just in case.
I stare at the little plastic stick like it might explode.
Three minutes.
The box says three minutes.
I set the timer on my phone and set the test on the marble counter.
I pace the small space. Four tiles left. Four tiles right.
Outside the door, the floorboards creak.
It’s faint, but I hear it. Then, a heavy exhale. Then, the distinct sound of a body leaning against the wall.
Then another.
They followed me.
“Mia?” Knox’s voice comes through the wood. “You okay in there?”
“I’m fine.” My voice trembles.
“You smell like you’re vibrating.” Rhys sounds closer to the floor, like he’s sitting right outside the threshold. “You smell like…panic. And sugar.”
“And milk.” Declan’s voice is soft.
My breath hitches.
They know. They have to know. Their instincts are screaming at them, even if their brains haven’t caught up yet.
The timer goes off and I freeze. The sound is deafening in the quiet bathroom.
“Mia.” Eli is right against the door now. “Open the door.”
“Just a second.” I force myself to walk to the counter and look.
Two lines. Two bold, unmistakable lines.
Pregnant.
I sit down hard on the closed toilet lid, the test clutched in my shaking hands.
Pregnant.
I’m pregnant.
The silence on the other side of the door is so heavy and charged that it prickles along my skin. They’re waiting. Listening to the hitch in my breathing, smelling the sudden, sharp spike in my scent.
I force my legs to hold my weight, unlock the door, and pull it open.
They’re all there.
A wall of alpha and beta fills the hallway, stealing the air from the room.
Knox is pacing tight, restless circles while Declan leans against the frame, arms crossed tight over his chest to hold himself in check.
Rhys is on the floor, back against the wall, looking up with dark, intense eyes, and Eli stands right in front of me, hand raised like he was seconds away from breaking the door down.
I hold up the test.
“Positive.”
Knox stops dead. He stares at the stick, eyes widening. A sound rips out of his chest and he punches the wall in sheer, uncontainable energy.
“I knew it.” He chokes on the words, shaking his head. “I fucking knew it.”
Declan pushes off the doorframe, his face breaking into a blinding grin. “A baby.” He breathes the word like a prayer. “We did that.”
Rhys moves fast, scrambling from the floor to crowd into my space. He drops to his knees instantly, pressing his face into my stomach, large hands spanning my hips to hold me like I’m fragile.
“Our baby is in there?” His question is so very soft against my skin.
Eli steps forward, taking the test from my loose fingers without even looking at it. His eyes are locked on mine.
“You’re okay?” His voice is rough, stripped raw.
“I’m terrified.” Tears prick my eyes, blurring his face. “Terrified happy.”
“Good. Me too.” He pulls me into his arms, burying his face in my neck, holding me so tight I can barely breathe. “But we’re going to do this.”
The rest of them collapse in. Knox crowds in behind me, wrapping his arms around both of us, sandwiching me in heat. Declan envelopes us from the side. Rhys stays kneeling, his forehead resting against my belly, breathing deep.
“We’re having a baby.” I bury my face in Eli’s shirt, soaking in the scent of oats and safety.
“Yeah.” His arms tighten. “We are.”
Knox pulls back just enough to look at me, his grin wild. He gestures toward the window at the end of the hall, where the view looks out over the side yard and the empty house next door.
“Good thing we bought 124.” His voice is thick with satisfaction. “We’re going to need the extra yard for the kids.”
I follow his gaze. The rain has stopped, leaving the world washed clean and bright.
I asked the universe for boring.
Thank God it didn’t listen.