19. Emma
Emma
A knock at my door interrupts my attempts to organize my desk.
It’s been two days since I woke from my suppressant overdose, gradually regaining my strength, but still confined to the cottage per Dr. Mitchell’s orders.
The forced rest has given me time to think about what it means to have found my scent matches and about the possibility of truly belonging somewhere.
“Package delivery!” Theo’s voice calls cheerfully from outside.
My heart does a little flip at the sound of his voice, and I catch myself smoothing my hair before opening the door.
When I pull it open, he’s standing there with a cardboard box and that warm smile that never fails to lift my spirits.
Warm cinnamon- vanilla rolls off him, no longer smothered by the double dose of suppressants and patches, and my omega hums in approval.
“Overnight delivery, my ass,” I joke, trying to ignore the way my body instinctively leans toward him.
“Delivery here always takes forever.” His eyes crinkle at the corner. “You doing okay today? Feeling stronger?”
“Much better,” I assure him, and it’s mostly true. The weakness lingers, but the headaches have subsided, and I’m no longer dizzy when I stand. “Dr. Mitchell says I can resume light work tomorrow.”
“Just in time for the weekend,” Theo says, leaning against the door frame.
The casual pose draws my attention to the breadth of his shoulders, the way his sweater hugs his chest. For a beta, he’s remarkably… solid.
Must be all the years he’s spent working on the farm.
“No pressure, though. Only if you feel up to it.”
I nod, “I’m looking forward to it.”
And I am. Being cooped up has made me restless, and my skin feels too tight, especially with my new awareness of who these men are to me. I never thought revealing my secret would make me feel so at ease.
“I’m making a pot roast tonight. Thought maybe you’d like to join us for dinner? Only if you’re feeling up to it.”
The invitation sends a flutter through my stomach—equal parts anxiety and anticipation. I haven’t seen Rowan or Liam since my fever broke, though both have sent messages checking on me. Now that I know we are fated, the thought of being in a room with all three makes butterflies dance in my belly.
“I’d like that,” I hear myself say before I overthink it.
Theo’s smile brightens, and his scent sweetens with pleasure. “Great! Six o’clock? I can come walk you over if you want.”
“I can manage the walk,” I assure him. “But thank you.” I’ll need a moment to settle my nerves before being surrounded by three hunky farmers.
After he leaves, I open the package. Inside are the suppressants—which I don’t need right now since Dr. Mitchell left me a new bottle—and my new pack of underwear; thick, sturdy fabric with a special absorbent liner.
I hold them up, grimacing at their thickness. “Well, these are… substantial.”
Maple bleats as if in agreement, her eyes fixed on the garment with what seems like judgment.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I tell her. “It’s a precaution. Just in case.”
Just in case my body decides to betray me around three incredibly attractive men who are my biological mates. Just in case the memory of Theo’s gentle hands, Rowan’s intense gaze, or Liam’s rare smile triggers a response.
Just thinking about it, a wave of heat dampens my underwear.
“Shit.” I’ve never responded like this. I’ve been on suppressants for so long, I forgot how it felt to be an omega.
Maple finally decides she has had enough of being cooped up and asks for the door. I send Liam a quick text telling him Maple is making her way back to him.
His reply is instant: “Thanks for letting me know. Looking forward to seeing you tonight.”
His words send heat flooding through me, and slick soaks my panties.
My inner omega seems determined to make up for lost time.
I change into a protective pair and throw the now-soaked ones in the wash.
This ought to be interesting.
I spend the next hour trying different outfits, discarding each as too casual for dinner with… what? My mates? The terminology feels thrilling and terrifying, but nothing in my meager wardrobe feels like “me” anymore.
I wore designer suits, silk blouses, and heels to my corporate job for years. My closet was a carefully curated collection of luxury brands, each piece selected to project competence and status.
But who is Emma now?
I rifle through the small stack of second-hand clothes I’ve accumulated since running. Oversized sweaters and shapeless tops that were explicitly chosen to hide my figure, make me forgettable, and invisible.
Nothing that would make an alpha look twice.
“This isn’t me either,” I murmur, tossing aside another baggy shirt.
At the back of the drawer, I find the soft cashmere cardigan in a deep burgundy that I “splurged” on at a thrift store. It’s the one thing I love, but I’ve never worn it because it’s fitted.
I put it over a simple white tank top and pair it with my nicest jeans.
No more corporate precision, no more hiding in shapeless clothes. Just… me. Whoever that is now.
I apply a touch of tinted lip balm and mascara—nothing dramatic, but enough to feel like I’m making an effort—for them and myself.
As I brush my hair, letting it fall loose around my shoulders instead of in my usual practical ponytail, I catch my reflection in the mirror.
I look different.
Not just physically—though the dark circles under my eyes have faded—but something in my expression has changed. The constant wariness has softened, replaced by a cautious hope.
At precisely six o’clock, I make my way to the main house. My new underwear makes an embarrassing crinkling with each step, and I pray it’s not audible to anyone else.
Before I can knock, the door swings open. Liam stands there, his large frame filling the doorway. I catch his scent immediately, stronger now, making my knees weaken and my pulse quicken.
“Hi,” I say softly, suddenly shy under his intense gaze.
“Happy to see you,” he replies, his deep voice warm with something that might be relief. He steps back, gesturing for me to enter. “How are you feeling?”
“Better,” I say, moving past him into the house. The brush of his arm against mine sends electricity racing across my skin, and I have to fight the urge to lean into him, to press myself against his solid warmth.
A slight, involuntary sound escapes me.
Oh my gawwd! Did I whine?
Liam’s nostrils flare in response, and his pupils dilate slightly.
“Thank you for… for finding me. Dr. Mitchell said if you hadn’t…”
I trail off, unable to finish the thought.
“Maple deserves the credit,” he says. “She knew something was wrong.”
The mention of the goat makes me smile. “My fuzzy guardian angel.”
A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “She’s inconsolable about not being invited to dinner. I had to bribe her with extra apple slices.”
The image of Liam bribing a stubborn goat warms me from the inside. Before I can respond, Theo’s voice calls from the kitchen.
“Is that our guest of honor? Bring her in before the roast dries out!”
Liam leads me to the dining room, where the table has been set—actual cloth napkins, a small arrangement of fall flowers, and candles. It’s unexpectedly lovely, and I feel a lump in my throat at their effort.
Theo emerges from the kitchen carrying a large serving dish, his face lighting up when he sees me. “You look beautiful,” he says with such glee that I blush, my omega preening under the praise.
“The table looks amazing,” I reply, deflecting the compliment but pleased, nonetheless.
“Rowan’s on his way,” Theo explains, setting down the dish. “Got caught on a call with a supplier.”
As if summoned by his name, Rowan appears in the doorway. His eyes find mine immediately, and he burnt-sugar musk notes of his scent intensify. “Emma,” he says, my name in a low voice. “It’s good to see you up and about.”
My body responds instantly; nipples tighten, a rush of warmth between my thighs.
There’s an awkward moment where no one seems to know what to do: shake hands? Hug? High-five?
“Everyone, sit! Food’s getting cold, and I didn’t slave over a hot stove all day for lukewarm pot roast.”
Theo’s teasing helps ease the awkwardness as we take our seats.
I find myself beside Theo with Liam and Rowan across from me.
The arrangement feels deliberate—the beta beside me as a buffer, the two alphas positioned where they can see me but not crowd me.
Their subtle thoughtfulness is something I’ve never experienced before.
Usually, omegas are the ones who need to make accommodations for everyone around them.
“Wine?” Rowan offers, already reaching for the bottle.
“Please,” I accept, hoping it might help calm the flutter in my stomach and the persistent throb between my thighs. Being surrounded by their combined scents makes my head swim pleasantly, my body humming with awareness.
“The farm reopens tomorrow,” Theo says, passing me the bread basket. “We’re expecting a good crowd—the weather forecast is perfect, and the pumpkins are at their peak.”
“I’m ready. I’ve been going stir-crazy in that cottage.”
“Only if you feel up to it,” Rowan says, his eyes meeting mine across the table. The intensity of his gaze makes my inner omega want to bare my neck in submission, an urge I haven’t felt since… well, ever.
“I want to,” I insist. “I miss the work. And I have ideas for some special content around the harvest moon next week.”
“We’ve managed the social media in your absence, but nothing like what you do,” Rowan continues.
“I saw,” I say, offering a small smile. “The lighting in those pumpkin photos was… interesting.”
Liam chuckles at this, the sound warming me more than the wine. “Told you they were terrible,” he says to Rowan.
“Hey, I tried,” Rowan protests, but there’s amusement in his eyes.
“The farm needs your touch,” Theo says.
As we eat, the initial awkwardness gradually melts away.
The food is delicious; the conversation flows more naturally, and I relax into their company.
Theo tells stories that make me laugh, his hand occasionally brushing mine as he gestures.
Rowan asks thoughtful questions about my social media plans, his eyes never leaving my face for long.
And Liam, though quieter than the others, watches me with an intensity that sends heat radiating through my core.
I’m acutely aware of their scents. They blend together in the small dining room, creating an aroma that feels more and more like home.
Without the excessive suppressants blocking my senses, I can detect small shifts—the way Rowan’s musky edge sharpens when our eyes meet, how Liam’s bourbon goes darker when his hand brushes mine, and the way Theo’s cinnamon-vanilla tips sweeter when I laugh.
I relax, realizing for the first time in months I’m not trying to mask my own scent.
I’m not tensing with each emotion. The notes of apple that define me are mingling freely with theirs, creating something new and harmonious in the air between us.
It feels liberating to… exist, without constantly suppressing every natural response.
At least for now, I don’t have to monitor myself with them; that alone is a huge relief.
“We should talk about tomorrow,” Rowan says, his tone shifting to something more businesslike. “About how we handle the public days now that…”
“Now that you all know I’m an omega,” I finish for him when he hesitates.
“And our mate,” Liam adds. Then he looks up at me, eyes intense. “If you want that, of course. We want you to feel safe.”
My heart thunders against my ribs at the word “mate” on his lips. My omega practically howls with joy, while my human brain tries to maintain some semblance of rationality.
“I’ve been managing public spaces for months,” I point out. “I’m good at staying invisible when I need to.”
“You shouldn’t have to be invisible,” Liam says. “Not anymore. Not here.”
“Old habits,” I say with a slight shrug. “It’s safer that way.”
“Not anymore,” Theo says, his voice gentle but firm. “You’re not alone now, Emma.”
I look around at the three men—so different from each other, yet somehow forming a perfect whole. Men who’ve shown me nothing but kindness and respect, and if biology is to be believed, men who are perfectly matched to me. My body certainly thinks so.
“I’m still figuring out what that means,” I admit. “Not being alone.”
“We all are,” Rowan says, leaning forward in his chair. “This is new territory for us, too.”
“Let’s take it one day at a time,” Theo suggests.
I nod in agreement. “I should head back,” I say reluctantly, though part of me wants nothing more than to stay. “Early day tomorrow.”
“I’ll walk you,” Liam grunts, already standing.
The walk back is silent but charged. He walks beside me, and I can practically feel tiny sparks jumping between us.
We reach my cottage door too soon, and I turn to face him, reluctant to say goodnight.
“Thank you,” I say. “For giving me space. For not pushing.”
His eyes meet mine. “I know what it’s like to need space.”
I nod, throat tight.
“Emma,” he says. “I’m not good with words, but I want you to know—.
” He pauses, seeming to search for the right way to continue.
“You have nothing to fear from me. When I found you sick… I’ve never been so scared.
I will protect you with everything I have.
No one will ever hurt you again. You have my word. ”
The declaration knocks the air from my lungs. My chest tightens, breath stuttering, because I believe him. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, I know his words are true.
Before I can second-guess myself, I’m moving closer. My fingers brush his shirt, tentative. His eyes widen in surprise, but he doesn’t step away.
I rise onto my toes and press my lips to his. He’s tentative at first, but then his arms wrap around my waist, pulling me against his body. The kiss is slow and gentle, and his lips taste like warm honeyed bourbon.
He gently pulls away so there is a small gap between us. With flushed cheeks and stormy dark eyes, Liam pecks me on the lips one last time before he turns to walk away.
“Sleep well, Emma,” he says softly. “Tomorrow will be a good day.”