Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
WILDER
Would it be rude to plug the coffee grinder into an extension cord and run it in the hallway outside of Sawyer’s room? Because the shithead didn’t warn me he was bringing a delectable omega here, and I’ve been hard since I stumbled home last night after a long session at Fine Line.
The client sat so well, we finished her back piece in one go, rather than breaking it up into two sessions like I’d planned.
Some people take tattoos better than others.
I was exhausted when we were done, ready to sleep, but the first thing that hit me when I walked through the door was the soft scent of vanilla and honey.
The second? A musky scent that made my balls ache.
Fucking Sawyer. We’re grown men, I shouldn’t have to ask him not to defile our sofa.
And I know it was Sawyer because my twin, Hayes, stayed later at his body shop than I stayed at my tattoo shop, choosing to crash in his office rather than risk driving.
And Liam’s parents roped him into some family get-together. I’m not even sure when he’ll be home.
Her scent. Fuck. If I could bottle it and mix it in with the pancakes I’m preparing to make, I would. When was the last time I scented someone so sweet and delicious?
Yeah, Sawyer had some fun with the delectable omega, and it took all of my self-control not to roll around on the couch like a dog. Despite the fact that the vanilla and honey scent is somehow muted, I still tossed and turned all night.
Saturdays should be for sleeping in, but I gave up the fight and trudged out of bed, hard and annoyed, at six-fifteen.
I’m not a big enough asshole to grind coffee in the hallway, like I’m tempted to do, but I will wake Sawyer up with the scent of bacon and blueberry pancakes.
With a hint of vanilla added in. Why not?
It’s been making my mouth water for hours.
I text my twin, letting him know there will be breakfast in the next half hour, and I’m not surprised to see three little dots pop up immediately. The couch in his office is uncomfortable as hell.
THE HOT ONE
If you’re up, come home for breakfast. Bacon and pancakes.
THE UGLY ONE
On my way. I’m going to need a neck rub when I get home.
Good thing you have two hands.
I’m your twin. My pain should be your pain.
You’re a pain, all right. A pain in my ass.
Fucking little brothers . . .
You’re two minutes older.
Your point?
You can’t call me little brother. We’re twins.
I can do whatever I want.
Ah. Those two minutes made you so mature.
Grinning, I lock my phone screen and set it aside. I preheat the griddle and toss on some butter before pulling a couple packages of bacon out of the fridge. They sizzle as I add them to one side before ladling enough batter to create large, fluffy pancakes on the other.
The sweet scent of vanilla and blueberries begins to fill the room and, despite my exhaustion, my annoyance fades.
It’s the weekend, I have no plans, don’t need to work, and soon enough, I’ll interrogate Sawyer and learn the name of my sweet-smelling torturer.
Then I’ll do some light internet stalking—I mean, sleuthing—and find a way to bump into the delectable creature so I can taste her myself.
Pep restored to my step, I grin and hum my favorite K-pop song. The sizzle of the bacon and the burble of percolating coffee provide a base track.
I’m so lost in my head, and loudly humming, that I don’t hear Sawyer’s soft footfalls until he’s five steps behind me. I don’t even bother turning around before starting in on him.
“Rise and shine, asswipe. You’ll need to carbo-load. If the scent of the omega in the living room is anything to go by, you burned a lot of energy last night.”
I expect to be smacked upside the head. So when my words are met with a sharp little intake of breath and a soft, “eep,” I spin around and come face-to-face with an angel. A rumpled, bed-headed angel in fancy pajamas, holding a notebook and pen?
Her long, brunette hair is tangled on one side, like she rolled around a bit before finally getting comfortable enough to fall asleep.
Her golden skin is flushed and still has pillow lines on it that I want to trace with my fingers.
She has a sloped little nose and a heart-shaped face that frames two wide, cinnamon-brown eyes, which are trained on me.
It takes a moment for my brain to kick back online, but when it does, I school my shocked features into my most charming smile.
The one my brother simultaneously hates and loves.
Hates, because he gets annoyed that socializing comes so easily to me when it’s so very unnatural for him.
Loves, because he benefits from the way my smiles and charm get beautiful women into both our beds.
I want this pretty omega in my bed.
Inhaling, I’m just able to catch that tantalizing vanilla and honey scent that kept me up all night. I was right; it blends perfectly with the blueberry pancakes that are rising on the griddle.
And now I’m feeling very hungry. “Well, hello there, sweetness.”
The gorgeous omega bites her bottom lip as she continues to study me.
Her head tilts slightly, and I have the unsettling impression that she’s cataloging every visible and invisible thing about me.
Taking my measure. Finally, she shakes her head, as if to clear it, and a pretty pink blush spreads across her cheeks. “Hi.”
“Apologies for calling you an asswipe. I thought you were someone else.”
She snort-giggles at that, then her eyes go wide as she covers the lower half of her face with both hands. Cute.
“I’m Wilder. Sawyer’s sexier, more talented, and better-in-bed packmate.” I extend my tattooed hand and grin when the pretty omega studies the ink that adorns it with admiration and curiosity.
“Did you know that the oldest tattoo ever recorded was from a mummy found in the mountains of Italy dating back 5,300 years ago? Scientists suspect the tattoos were done for medical purposes because the ink was found around traditional acupuncture points. There have been quite a few studies that show the efficacy of acupuncture as a therapeutic means of pain management. So when people talk about tattoo therapy, they’re really not that far off from the truth, anthropologically speaking. ”
The words tumble out of the pretty brunette’s mouth with such speed, I’m not sure she even blinks as she schools me on the history of tattooing and pain management from an anthropological standpoint.
It’s fucking adorable and completely unexpected.
I’m used to women eyeing the vast expanse of ink across my body and coming to their own conclusions—usually deciding I must be fun in bed—but this is a new one.
Who is this omega?
“I did not know that,” I reply with a slow smile, noting that her eyes have traveled from my hand to my bare chest and the intricate black-and-gray scene etched into my flesh.
It’s a depiction of several Greek gods locked in an eternal power struggle.
It took quite a few days of long sessions to complete, and it’s one of my most elaborate pieces.
Her eyes snap to mine as I chuckle, pink once again staining her cheeks when she realizes she’s staring and still hasn’t taken my offered hand.
With another little squeak, she places her palm in mine and gives it three quick shakes before dropping it.
I swear a tingle starts in my fingers and shoots all the way up my arm before diffusing through my chest.
Clearing my throat, I gesture to the breakfast I’m cooking before flipping the pancakes, which are now bubbly and thick. “Are you hungry? There’s plenty.”
I know I am. I suddenly find myself ravenous.
I want to take a bite out of the sexy brainiac standing in my kitchen in pajamas that look like they’re from some high-end resort, and not the kind of thing a woman in her twenties would be wearing in our little house.
But she seems a little skittish for that, so I’ll have to settle for pancakes. This time.
“Oh, um, I don’t know . . .”
I press a hand to my chest, as if I’m offended.
“Are you worried that I can’t cook? Because I assure you, even I can’t mess up pancakes and bacon.
” I wince, remembering the first time I tried to make breakfast for my mom and my siblings when I was a kid while our dads were on a fishing trip for the weekend.
“At least, I haven’t messed them up since I was ten years old and accidentally switched the sugar with salt. ”
She giggles again, taking a step closer to me, her eyes on the fluffy pancakes as I lift them off the griddle and put them on a plate to the side before ladling more onto the hot surface.
She inhales deeply, closing her eyes like she’s savoring the scent of the food.
Like it’s the best thing she’s smelled in ages.
As I get a hit of her own sweet scent, I have to agree.
“Is there caramel in the pancakes?” she asks.
I have to clear my throat. “Uh, no. There’s not.”
“Oh.” Her gaze lifts to meet mine. She takes another step toward me, bringing her close enough that the fabric of her sleep shirt brushes against the bare skin of my abs, making me shiver. “Oh, that’s you. Wow.”
Fuck. Me.
Unable to help myself, I set the ladle down and drag a tattooed finger over her cheekbone. Sawyer’s mystery woman shudders, her eyelids fluttering closed, and her sweet scent sharpens with need. “That’s me. Do you want a little taste, sweetness?”
Just as the gorgeous omega opens her mouth to answer, the front door slams and footsteps stomp into the kitchen.
“Why the fuck does it smell like an omega came in the living room? Don’t you assholes have bedrooms?”
Hayes, my ever-charming double, stops short as he takes in the scene. A plate of finished pancakes, bacon beginning to overcook on the griddle, and a sleep-rumpled woman jumping out of her skin at the displeased sound of a deep voice.
Sawyer’s mystery woman lets out another squeak and trips on air, her eyes going wide as her arms flail and she tips backward. Both Hayes and I must have the same thought—if she tries to catch herself on the stove, she could end up seriously injured—and we move as one.
Before she can hit the ground, or anything else, we have her sandwiched between us, safe and protected. At least, from everything outside of my hardening dick when her soft, curvy body presses against mine.
Her chest heaves and her eyes are round as she glances between Hayes and me. “Twins,” she whispers, more to herself than us. “Only three out of every thousand pregnancies result in twins.”
My brother’s eyebrow rises at that, lips twitching. Mystery girl notices, and all of her attention trains on Hayes's lips. He and I share a loaded look.
“Liv? Baby, where’d you go?”
The bubble of sexual tension I’ve found myself in bursts as Sawyer ambles into the room, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Until he finds the three of us pressed together, his girl’s cheeks flushed, her eyes a little panicked, and her lips open in apparent surprise.
Sawyer stops dead in his tracks, taking it all in with a grin. “I see you’ve met the twins.”
As if she’s finally realized she’s pressed between two hard strangers, Liv scrambles out of our grip. She steadies herself on the kitchen island, setting her notebook and pen down on the butcher-block surface as Sawyer chuckles.
“I’m sorry,” she says to everyone and no one.
That won’t do.
I load up a plate with pancakes and bacon, placing it in front of the flustered woman before adding some to plates for myself and my pack. I’ll make more later if we need it. For now, I want to enjoy some time with this intriguing woman. Liv.
“I don’t know why you’re sorry. It’s not every morning I have beautiful women throwing themselves at me because I’ve made breakfast. A guy could get used to that.” I give her a wink and her blush deepens.
Sawyer chuckles, guiding her to sit on one of the stools at the island before settling beside her. “Liv, this is Wilder and Hayes. Guys, this is Liv.”
The woman in question gives us an awkward little wave before turning her attention to the pancakes and popping a piece into her mouth, likely to avoid having to make eye contact with us. I don’t like that. I want her eyes on me.
But then she moans when she tastes the food, and I’m glad her attention is on her plate. Otherwise, she’d see my hard-on.
“Oh, wow. This is so good,” she gushes.
My brothers and I fall silent as we watch her take a few more bites, humming in pleasure each time. It’s like the sounds that come out of her mouth are some kind of spell. She weaves it with expert precision, and I don’t think she’s even realized it.
Hayes clears his throat before digging in, then we all follow suit. We eat in silence—well, outside of Liv’s sounds of culinary pleasure—until the notes of the Jaws theme sound from somewhere in the living room.
We all freeze, glancing at each other in confusion. Liv doesn’t seem to notice.
Those two low notes sound again and again before increasing in tempo.
Hayes frowns. “What is that?”
Liv finally looks up from her plate as the sound cuts off before starting up again. Her face loses its pretty flush. “Oh, no.”
My packmates and I exchange looks as she scrambles from her stool and searches the floor around the couch before pawing at the cushions.
When the Jaws theme cuts off again, only to start up a few seconds later, she mumbles a curse before her slim fingers close around a phone.
Frowning, she presses the answer button and brings the cell to her ear.
Whoever is speaking on the other end is not happy. I can hear the shrill tones of a yelling woman all the way from here. This goes on for another minute before Liv hangs up, takes a few deep breaths, and turns to Sawyer.
“I have to go. I’m sorry. I’ll call you later, okay?”
Sawyer stands, moving quickly in front of her. His hands cup her face, silently demanding that she meet his eyes. I cock my head to the side, watching, because in all the years I’ve known Sawyer Flynn, I have never seen him look at a woman the way he’s looking at Liv.
“What’s going on?”
“Just forgot this thing I’m supposed to do with my mother. You know how she is.”
He grimaces. “Right. Why don’t you finish breakfast, and then I’ll drive you home?”
“No need,” the pretty omega says apologetically just before there’s a knock on the door. “Nigel’s here.”
Sawyer sighs, then presses his forehead to hers. “Okay, baby. I’ll talk to you later. Don’t let her push you around, okay?”
“Okay.”
She grabs her purse, phone still in hand, and after pressing a kiss to Sawyer’s jaw, slips through the front door, leaving confusion and the sweet scent of honey and vanilla in her wake.
“What in the hell just happened?” Hayes asks me quietly.
“I have no idea. But I suspect things will never be the same.”