9. Teddy
Teddy
My arms tighten around my dove in the back seat of the car, holding her close to me.
The scent she had left on the sticky note in my pocket pales in comparison to the real thing. Spiced apple cider, warm and decadent.
She’s mine.
Always has been.
Could this…could this be why I suddenly presented? Because my mate was in danger? My designation was just lying in wait until she needed me?
Or could it be because it was the scariest moment of my life, not knowing where she was or what was happening to her?
I scan her features as she rests against me, eyes closed and breathing shallow. She looks pale and sickly, with bruises forming around her neck—nothing like the woman who stole my breath with her kisses only two days ago.
“How is she doing?” Brennan asks from the front seat, turning around and looking at her with a worried expression. It should bother me, having him this close to my scent match after she’s been in the situation we just rescued her from, but…it doesn’t.
Huh.
“I fink she’ll be alright,” I say, stroking a hand over her hair. “She’s a figh’er, she is.”
“Yeah,” a low chuckle leaves him as he shakes his head, “she left Jasper with a pretty good parting gift.”
“Wot ’bout the other two?” I hedge. “Don’ tell me they got off scot-free.”
“They didn’t,” Maverick growls. “Let’s just say that my fists are…very well acquainted with their faces.”
Good.
Something niggles at the back of my mind though.
They…they both seem far more involved than they would be with a simple extraction.
At least…more emotionally involved. Maverick’s never introduced his fists to anyone’s face.
If anything, he lets his weapons do the talking.
Beating someone…that takes a certain level of emotional involvement that he shouldn’t have with the omega in my arms.
The way Maverick’s eyes keep darting to look at us in the rear-view mirror.
How Brennan looked at her when he carried her to the car, and the slight guilt in his eyes when he injected her with the FMS shot.
I hadn’t thought much about it at the time, because her smell was fucking amazing and I was reeling at the realization that Dove—the woman I’ve been in love with for the last year—is actually my true fucking scent match.
We’ve rescued omegas before, but this? This is different.
Maverick’s eyes dart to her in the mirror again and—you’ve got to be shitting me.
“Oh, fuck no,” I groan, my head falling back. “Both of you?”
I don’t even need to elaborate. I can hear the wince in Brennan’s voice. “Um…yeah. I mean, yes for me. Mav?”
“Yeah.” He grunts, no apology in his voice.
I mean, I had my suspicions that I hoped to fuck I was wrong about when Ethan scented the sticky note she left me, but I never expected Brennan and Maverick to be a part of it.
Fuck.
“This is right bullshite, it is,” I mutter, my heart clenching. “I’m the only one who actually knows ’er—loves ’er. You all gave me shite and called me a fuckin’ simp and now look at you.”
Maverick huffs. “We’re not going to try to take her away from you. She doesn’t even know us.”
“But if she wants to know us…” Brennan shrugs. “She isn’t a toy or a fucking…last piece of pie or something. You can’t call dibs. It’s up to her.”
Despite the way my heart feels like it’s about to be squeezed right out of my chest, I smirk. “Well then, jokes on you. Wren doesn't want a pack. We spent the last year fig’ring out exactly ‘ow to keep ‘em away.”
“She didn’t want to be forced into a pack her parents picked for her,” Brennan reminds me, brows raised. “Not only are we not one of those packs, we’re her true scent matches.”
I fucking wish he wouldn’t say that.
My hand strokes over her hair, and not for the first time, I grimace at the blood on her dress. My fingers itch to rip it off—to remove any semblance of another man on her—even if it is his blood from when she stabbed him.
Being an alpha is fucking weird.
I move to wipe at the blood, and even I grimace at the fabric. Stiff and a bit scratchy. She must be absolutely miserable. One hand still on her hair, I fish my phone out of my pocket and search for…fuck, what do I search for?
“What are you doing?” Maverick frowns.
“This dress—it’s no good. She needs somefin’ else to wear.”
“So you’re…shopping?” Brennan looks at me questioningly.
I roll my eyes. Fucking alphas.
“I don’ see a fuckin’ suitcase packed for ‘er, do you?” My thumb flies over the keyboard, typing “cosy omeha coothes”. Fuck. This is a pain to do one-handed. I backspace quickly, retyping “cosy omega clothes”.
The first thing that pops up is a full-on onesie, with a hood and coloring that makes it look like a panda. I click on the link, and it takes me to a store called “Nesting Co.”. Thank fuck that “Nest Luxe” store isn’t our only option. That’d be just more money in her parent’s pockets.
The onesie looks soft as fuck.
Add to cart.
I scroll, and see “more like this”. More onesies. Koala. Fox. Bear.
Add to cart.
Add to cart.
Add to cart.
“What are you buying?” Brennan asks, the nosy shite.
I turn the phone in his direction. He snatches it from my grip. “I’ll be faster. You only have one hand. What else will she need?”
I want to be pissed that he just grabbed the phone from me, but really, I’m a bit relieved that I can focus all my attention on Dove while the shopping is taken care of.
“Anyfin’ soft,” my fingers stroke along the freckles on her cheeks, “shirts, shorts…overalls.”
Maverick’s brows shoot up. “Overalls?”
“Yeah, the denim kind. See if they ’ave any at that shop, maybe they’ll be extra soft. But…it’s what she likes to wear when she paints.”
“What about her nest?” Brennan asks, scrolling through the site.
A growl wants to rip out of me at the memory of the mattress she had been laying on, only covered with a single sheet. All her nesting items, seeing as they weren’t on her bed when I went back for her two nights ago, are probably still at Pack Caruso’s house.
We can buy her new ones. I’ve been in her room so many times, I could build a replica in my sleep.
She needs her nest.
There are so many things about this fucked up situation that I can’t do anything about. Get her some parents that give two shits? Not possible. Erase the last forty-eight hours from her mind so she never has to think of those arse-wipes again? Not likely. But getting her items for her nest?
I can do that.
“We need to go to Nesting Co.” The sudden urge to direct Maverick to the nearest nesting store by fucking gunpoint if necessary rises up, my alpha desperate to care for our omega the only way we can right now.
“What? No,” Maverick shakes his head, “we need to take her home.”
“Home?” Brennan frowns. “Where is that exactly?”
“Well…” he huffs, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel. Oh, fuck no.
“Fuck off wiff that,” I shake my head, “we’re goin’ back to my place.”
“You’re not equipped to take care of her there,” Maverick snaps. “You have a shitty two bedroom apartment—”
“Oh, so you just ‘appen to ‘ave every medical device we need to take care of ‘er?” I snap, my scent sharpening.
Maverick snarls. “You certainly don’t—”
“Both of you, cut that shit out,” Brennan huffs. “Maverick, take the next exit—there’s a Nesting Co. off the freeway. After that, we’ll go to a cabin my buddy, Fritz, has. He owes me a favor. I’ve ordered all the onesies to be ready for pickup.”
At his finality, something in me settles, and I nod, my shoulders relaxing slightly. “Fine.”
“Fine,” Maverick mutters, pulling off the freeway.
Brennan continues as we approach the car park. “I’ll have him bring over medical supplies before we get there—IV bags, medications— the works.”
“How fuckin’ big is the favor ‘e owes you?” I snort, anticipation filling my chest as we park.
“Pretty damn big,” Brennan shrugs, but doesn’t elaborate. “Now—who’s going in?”
The question confuses me for a second until he pointedly looks down at Dove. Right. She’s knocked out, and they would probably call the police on us if we dragged an unconscious, unbonded omega through the store.
“I am,” I give a determined nod, “I know exactly wot ’er nest used to look like.”
“I’ll go with you,” Brennan glances at Maverick. “Are you going to be okay waiting in the car?”
Mav grunts, shifting in his seat. “I just beat the shit out of two guys, and you’re questioning if I’m capable of waiting in a car?
” His eyes catch on the omega in the rear view mirror again, and when he notices I’m watching him, he quickly averts his gaze.
“Yeah.” He clears his throat, then glances at his knuckles, which are now flaking with dried blood. “I’ll be fine.”
Brennan moves to get out of the car, and carefully, I slide out from underneath Dove, my heart clenching as her head lands on the seat.
I don’t like the thought of her being by herself, with nobody to hold her.
“Maverick.” Fuck, am I really going to ask this? “Will you come sit with ‘er?”
He startles at the question, the tips of his ears turning bright red. “What? No, I can’t—”
“Mav.” I fix him with a look. “You know it’s near killin’ me to even ask you—but if we really are ‘er true scent matches, she needs us to get be’ter. So, please, get inta the back seat and cuddle the omega.”
Finally, he huffs, unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out of the front seat. “If she wakes up, terrified of me…” he grumbles, getting into the back seat, “it’s going to be all your fault.”
“She’ll be knocked out at least twenty-four hours, Mav,” Brennan says, taking off his arsenal and throwing it into the front seat. “You’ll be fine.”
With that, Brennan and I leave Maverick and Wren in the car, and walk into the nesting shop.