Chapter 27
ARROW
Three Days Later
T he coffee is still too hot, but I drink it anyway. Burns going down, sharp and bitter. Just how I need it.
It’s barely dawn on Halloween morning, and the sky is that weird grayish purple that paints everything to appear haunted.
Fitting, considering the absolute shit show we’ve got planned for today.
The last few days have been filled with organizing and spending every second I can spare with my gorgeous Omega.
I can’t get enough of her… I’m a man obsessed.
I lean against the porch railing at the rear of our house, staring at our handiwork in the yard.
The path down to the lake is lined with those tacky orange lights.
Inflatable ghosts bob in the morning breeze, huge ones, at least eight feet tall.
There’s a skeleton bride and groom set up by the river, complete with a top hat and a veil that keeps blowing off in the wind.
It’s gaudy as fuck.
Exactly what we were going for.
To our right on the grounds, the pergola structure looks like Halloween threw up on it and then came back for seconds.
Orange and black streamers hang from every beam, twisting in the breeze.
More inflatables crowd the corners of a giant Frankenstein, a witch on a broomstick, some kind of blow-up haunted house that Luke found on clearance.
Fake cobwebs drape over the support beams, thick enough to appear almost real in the dim light.
Jack-o’-lanterns line the perimeter, their faces carved into exaggerated grins and screams. There’s even a fog machine tucked under one of the tables, ready to pump out that artificial mist.
The chairs by the water are set up in neat rows, which would look elegant except for the inflatable black cat, back arched like it’s hissing at whoever dares walk down the aisle. Every other chair has a cheap foam pumpkin sitting on it. It’s hideous. Absolutely hideous.
I fucking love it.
The back door opens, and Holt steps out. No shirt, just slack pants. His coffee mug steams in the cool air, and he’s got that look on his face as if he’s been up for a while but pretending he just woke up.
“You couldn’t sleep either,” he says. Not a question.
“Nah.” I take another sip. “Wanted to make sure everything was set. You know, for this circus.”
Holt moves to stand beside me, and we both stare out at the decorations.
“It’s ridiculous,” Holt says.
“Fucking beautiful,” I agree, grinning.
We both start laughing. Can’t help it. The whole thing is so over the top, so deliberately tacky, that it’s almost art. Like we took every single thing Victoria would hate and crammed it into one location.
“Victoria is going to lose her goddamn mind,” Holt says.
“That’s the point.” I smile. “She wanted a wedding and let us decorate. We’re giving her a one she won’t forget.”
Thinking of her has my jaw tightening. That woman has been pushing every button since first meeting her. Too busy for her own nephew’s wedding. Too important to help with any actual planning. Just barking orders like we’re her personal assistants and expecting us to jump when she snaps her fingers.
Well, we jumped. Right into the nearest Halloween store and bought out their entire fucking stock and made our own version instead of the tamed, boring version she wanted.
“I made it a thing a long time ago,” I say, watching the inflatable ghosts sway. “Don’t question idiots or psychos. Just let them do their thing and stay out of the blast radius.”
“And Victoria falls into those categories?”
“Definitely both.” I grip my mug tighter. “As long as she gets this ridiculous wedding done and leaves Cindy alone for good, I’ll play nice. But this is pushing my patience to the fucking limit.”
Holt glances at me. “If she doesn’t leave after today, we’re fucking done with her.”
“Fuck yeah, we are. After today, if she doesn’t back the fuck off and leave Cindy alone, she’ll be dealing with all three of us directly. No more playing nice, no more jumping through hoops. And she’ll lose all access to Cindy. Completely.”
“Agreed.”
We sip our coffee in silence for a moment. The inflatable ghosts sway harder as the wind picks up, their faces locked in those stupid cartoon screams. One of the streamers comes loose from the pergola and flaps wildly before catching on a beam.
“The ceremony is at noon,” Holt says. “Everything’s ready.”
“Food is prepped,” I add. “Just need to cook it when we get closer to the time. I’ve got enough for fifty even though there’s only thirty people coming. Rather have too much than run out and hear Victoria bitch about it.”
“Smart.”
I nod, staring out at the setup again. “I think Cindy is going to lose her shit laughing.”
My thoughts drift to Cindy, still asleep upstairs. We’ve been taking turns sharing her bed since the heat ended. One of us each night while the other two sleep in our own rooms. Last night was my turn, and fuck, leaving her this morning was harder than I expected.
The moment I slipped out of bed, trying to be quiet, she rolled into the warm spot I’d left behind. Grabbed my pillow without even waking up, hugged it to her chest. Made this soft little sound, somewhere between a sigh and a whimper, that damn near killed me.
I stood there for a solid minute, just watching her. Wanting to climb back in. Stay there. Wake her up properly with my hands and my mouth and make her come before she even fully opened her eyes.
But we’ve got shit to do. A wedding to pull off. A mother to deal with.
So I left.
“She still asleep?” Holt asks, like he’s reading my mind.
“Yeah.” I smile despite myself, remembering. “So hard to get up and leave her.”
Holt’s expression softens in that way it only does when we talk about Cindy.
“Last night she told me something,” I admit, watching the sky slowly lighten behind the mountains. “Said she’d love for us to start sleeping together. All of us. In the heat room, in that huge bed we set up.”
Holt nods. “I think,” he says finally, “that sounds fucking perfect.”
“Agreed,” I say.
The bond marks on Cindy’s body flash through my mind. I can still remember exactly how it felt marking her, the way her skin gave under my teeth, the taste of her, the way she cried out as I bit down. The bond snapping into place like a live wire, immediate and permanent and undeniable.
Mine. Ours.
“You think she wants us to propose?” My thoughts come out in a question… something I’d been pondering recently.
Holt glances my way, eyebrows raised.
I feel uncomfortable suddenly, exposed. Not a feeling I’m used to. “I mean really propose. Not this contract bullshit we’re doing today.”
“What makes you think that?”
“I don’t know.” I stare down into my coffee. “She grew up seeing her family do weddings, right? Traditional ones. The whole formal thing. Even if her family was shit, maybe she still… I don’t know. Wants the fairy tale?”
Holt is quiet again, thinking. When he speaks, his voice is careful. “She’s already ours. The marks prove that. The bond is there.”
“Yeah, but some Omegas want more than just the bond.” I’m trying to find the right words. “They want the romance on a special day. The gesture. The down-on-one-knee bullshit with a ring and a speech.”
“You think Cindy wants that?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “That’s why I’m asking. Her family was horrible to her. We know that. But maybe she still has this idea in her head of what a real proposal looks like? What a real wedding should be?”
Holt stares out at the lake in the distance. “We could try feeling her out today,” he says finally. “See how she reacts to the wedding. If she loves it, hates it, doesn’t give a shit. Might tell us what we need to know.”
“Yeah.” I finish my coffee in one long swallow. “That’s a good idea.”
“If she wants a real proposal,” Holt continues, “we’ll give her one. All three of us. Make it something she’ll actually want to remember. And I’ll fill in Luke to ensure he’s on the same page as us.”
The back door slams open hard enough to rattle the frame, and Luke stumbles out.
He’s in gray sweats and a faded T-shirt, hair sticking up in every direction.
His phone is clutched in his hand, and he’s got that look on his face.
The one that means someone pissed him off before he even had caffeine.
“Fuck,” he announces to the morning in general. “Who the hell calls this time of the morning with fucking commands?”
He holds up his phone. Even from here I can see the text message thread, long paragraphs.
“She’s a damn bitch,” Luke says, scrolling with his thumb. “Look at this shit.”
Holt and I move closer, and Luke holds out the phone so we can actually read.
It’s from Victoria. Sent just minutes ago, which means the woman has been up since before dawn planning this shit.
Good morning, Luke! So sorry for the last-minute request, but there’s been a small issue with the cake.
The bakery needs someone to pick it up this morning.
There was a mix-up with the delivery time, and they can’t bring it out to the house.
They also need a final fitting for the cake topper (bride and groom figurines).
I’ll need someone with a van, and at least two people to help carry and hold it, as it’s quite large.
The address is below. Thank you so much! xx
An address follows. Some industrial area I don’t recognize.
“How fucking big is a cake gonna be for thirty people?” I demand. “What, is she expecting a five-tier monstrosity?”
Luke groans, running his free hand through his already messy hair. “Right? This is fucking insane. My patience is wearing thin with her. I’m only doing this shit for Cindy.”
Holt’s jaw tightens. “The sooner we get rid of her, the better. So tired of being her bitch.”
“I’ll stay behind,” I offer. “You two can handle a cake pickup.”