27. Emma
Emma
I wake to the smell of coffee, stretching languidly between warm bodies.
The past week has been a revelation; sleeping surrounded by my mates, their scents mingling with mine until I can barely tell where I end and they begin.
We’ve established a routine; Theo brings breakfast, Rowan handles security checks, and Liam ensures Maple is fed before joining us for morning cuddles.
No claiming yet; waiting until my heat will create the strongest possible bond. But there is still plenty of pleasure to be had: their mouths and hands learn every inch of me, my body responding with an eagerness that would have embarrassed me before.
They have more than proven to me how much they care, and it only makes me want them more. I’m not used to such selfless devotion; normally, alphas just want a warm place to put their knot.
Today, though, anxiety twists in my stomach. Saturday is reopening day. Crowds of strangers will flood the farm, and somewhere among them could be Marcus. His email haunts me: “Expect me soon. I’m sending a gift.”
“You’re tense,” Liam murmurs against my neck, his large hand splayed protectively across my stomach.
“Just nervous about today,” I admit, pressing back against his solid warmth.
“We’ll be with you all day,” Theo promises, setting a mug of coffee on the nightstand before perching on the edge of the bed. His hair is adorably mussed; his smile gentle. “All three of us. No one’s getting near you without going through us first.”
I try to match his smile, but my lips feel stiff and worried. “I know. It’s just… Marcus doesn’t play fair. He never has.”
Rowan emerges from the bathroom, toweling his hair dry. “Then it’s a good thing we don’t either,” he says, his voice carrying that quiet authority that never fails to soothe my inner omega. “We’ve doubled security at the entrance. No one gets in without being logged.”
I nod, sipping Theo’s coffee, letting its warmth chase away some of the chill of fear. “Let’s just get through today,” I say, trying to sound more confident than I feel.
By mid-morning, the farm is bustling with visitors.
Families wander through the pumpkin patch, children squeal with delight at the petting zoo, and the scent of Theo’s apple cider donuts fills the air.
I always stay close to at least one of my mates, Maple trotting faithfully at my heels like a small, horned bodyguard.
I’m helping a young girl select a pumpkin when I feel it—a prickle at the back of my neck, a sense of being watched. I straighten, scanning the crowd, but see nothing unusual. Just families enjoying the autumn day.
“You okay?” Rowan asks, materializing at my side as if sensing my discomfort.
“Fine,” I say, though my voice sounds tight even to my ears. “Just jumpy.”
His hand finds the small of my back, a subtle gesture of possession and protection that steadies me. “Stay close,” he murmurs.
The day progresses without incident, and begin to think that perhaps my fears were unfounded. Maybe Marcus was just trying to scare me with his email, and maybe the “gift” was just an empty threat.
I’m photographing a display of gourds when Maple suddenly stiffens beside me, her rectangular pupils narrowing as she stares toward the parking lot. A low, warning bleat escapes her, unlike her usual friendly sounds, which I immediately sense.
That’s when I see a sleek black Lexus with dark tinted windows pulling into the lot. My heart stutters in my chest as the driver’s door opens.
But it’s not Marcus who emerges.
It’s my mother.
She looks better than the last time I saw her—her hair freshly colored, her clothes expensive and new.
She’s accompanied by a man I don’t recognize, tall and thin with the desperate smile of someone trying too hard to be charming.
He helps her out of the car with exaggerated gallantry, his hand lingering possessively at her waist.
“Another conquest,” I mutter, watching as she inspects the farm with disdain.
Maple presses against my leg, sensing my distress. I scratch behind her ears, grateful for her steady presence. “It’s okay, girl. Just my mother. Not exactly a welcome surprise, but not dangerous.”
Liam just stepped into the barn. He is close enough that he would hear me if I shout, but I don’t want to subject him to my mother unnecessarily.
She spots me almost immediately; her face lighting up with an expression I recognize all too well—the look she gets when she thinks she’s about to get something she wants.
“Emma!” she calls, waving like we’re at a society luncheon rather than a working farm. “Darling, there you are!”
I don’t move to meet her. Instead, I watch as she picks her way carefully across the gravel path in ridiculous heels, her companion trailing behind her like an obedient dog.
“Mother,” I say when she reaches me, my voice cooler than the autumn air. “This is unexpected.”
“Is that any way to greet your mother?” she asks, leaning in for air kisses near my cheeks. She smells of expensive perfume and, surprisingly, not alcohol. “I’ve been so worried about you, disappearing like that.”
“I didn’t disappear,” I correct her. “I left. There’s a difference.”
Her smile tightens at the edges. “Well, regardless, I’m here now. And I have wonderful news!” She gestures to the Lexus. “Marcus bought me a car! Isn’t it gorgeous? And this is Marty. He’s in pharmaceuticals.”
Marty extends a hand, which I ignore. Sensing my discomfort, Maple positions herself between us, her small horns lowering.
“What is that creature?” my mother asks, stepping back.
“Her name is Maple. She’s with me.” I glance around, looking for any of my mates, suddenly wanting their solid presence beside me. “Why are you here, Mother? How did you find me?”
“Marcus told me, of course. He’s been so concerned about you, darling. We both have.” She lowers her voice to what she probably thinks is a discreet volume. “This place is charming, I suppose, but surely you can’t be happy here? All this…” she waves a dismissive hand at the farm, “…dirt.”
“I’m very happy here,” I say firmly. “Now, excuse me, I have work to do.”
I turn to leave, but her hand catches my arm. “Emma, wait. I need to talk to you. Privately.” She glances meaningfully at Marty, who takes the hint and wanders toward a nearby cider stand.
Once he’s out of earshot, her expression changes, becoming serious. “I’ve been to rehab, Emma. I’m clean. Sixty days sober.”
I study her face, noticing the clarity in her eyes and the steadiness in her hands, which has been absent for as long as I can remember.
“That’s… good,” I say cautiously. “I’m glad.”
“Marcus paid for it,” she continues. “The best facility in the country. He’s been so generous and understanding. He wants to help us, Emma. Both of us.”
And there it is—the real reason for her visit.
“I’m not going back to him,” I say, my voice hardening. “Not now, not ever.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffs. “You’re twenty-nine, Emma, you’re almost past your prime.”
“I’m thirty-one, Mom.”
Her eyes widen as she clutches her fake pearls. “Even worse. You can’t afford to be difficult. Marcus is a good man. Successful, handsome, from an excellent family. Do you know how rare that is? To find an alpha of that caliber in this day and age?”
“He tried to force a bond on me,” I remind her, bile rising in my throat at the memory. “He wanted to parade me around during my heat for his business associates.”
She waves this away as if I’ve mentioned a minor disagreement about dinner plans. “Oh, Emma, you’re so dramatic. When you’re in heat, you have no idea who’s fucking you anyway. What difference does it make? At least this way you’d be helping his career.”
I stare at her, disgusted and hurt. “Is that what you did, Mother? Sold yourself during your heats to the highest bidder?”
Her expression hardens. “Don’t judge what you don’t understand. I did what I had to do to survive, and to put food in your mouth.”
“And I’m doing what I have to do to survive,” I counter. “Which includes staying as far away from Marcus as possible.”
“This is absurd,” she hisses, gesturing at the farm. “Look at this place. Look at you! Working on a farm, for God’s sake. This life is beneath you, Emma. Beneath us.”
“No, Mother. This life is real. These people are real.” I straighten my spine, drawing strength from the ground beneath my feet, from the scents of my mates that linger on my skin. “I’ve found something I never had with you or Marcus: respect. Safety. Belonging.”
“What you’ve found,” she sneers, “is a way to hide from your responsibilities. Marcus is willing to forgive your… indiscretion. He still wants to marry you.”
“I don’t care what Marcus wants,” I say. “I want you to leave. Now.”
“Emma—”
“Is everything alright here?”
Liam’s deep voice behind me sends a wave of relief through my body. I see him standing there, his large frame radiating protective energy. Beside him, Rowan watches with narrowed eyes, and Theo moves to stand at my other side, completing a protective circle around me.
My mother’s eyes widen as she takes in the three men, her nostrils flaring slightly as she catches their scents. Understanding dawns on her expression, followed quickly by calculation.
“Oh,” she says, looking between them and me. “I see. You’ve found yourself a… situation here.”
“These are my mates,” I say, with pride. “My pack.”
She laughs, the sound brittle and dismissive.
“Your pack? Darling, be serious. What kind of future is there for you here? Dirt under your fingernails, hay in your hair, playing house with three country boys?” She leans closer, dropping her voice.
“Marcus can give you everything. Security. Status. A real life in the city.”
“This is my real life,” I say firmly. “The one I’ve chosen. The one that makes me happy.”
“You ungrateful little—.” She cuts herself off, composing her features with visible effort.
“Fine. Have it your way. But don’t come crying to me when this little fantasy falls apart.
” She turns to leave, then pauses, looking back with a cold smile.
“Oh, and Marcus asked me to tell you he’ll see you soon. He has something special planned.”
With that parting shot, she stalks back to her waiting car, Marty scrambling to follow. I watch them drive away, my mother’s words hanging in the air like poison.
“You okay?” Theo asks, his hand finding mine and squeezing gently.
I nod, though I’m trembling. “I’m sorry about that. About her.”
“Don’t apologize for her,” Rowan says, his voice tight with controlled anger. “That’s not on you.”
Liam doesn’t speak, but his hand rests, warm and steady, at the small of my back. Maple butts her head against my leg, bleating softly as if to add her support.
This is my family now.