Chapter ten
Lily
Mornings at the Santos house have a rhythm to them. I’ve learned how to read it, how to fit myself into the spaces between. Like if I’m small enough, quiet enough, I won’t disrupt anything important.
I know this isn’t their normal routine. Normally they would all be at work by now. But they simply don’t trust Miles around me unsupervised yet.
Gabriel’s always first, down the stairs by five, coffee in hand, not a word to anyone.
His office door is shut by six, like he’s locking away the day before it even starts.
Cyrus rolls in around six-thirty, does something to work up a sweat outside or in the gym, comes back with cold air clinging to him.
Garrett’s up by seven, and suddenly the kitchen shifts from silent to alive: eggs, toast, the smell of butter, the tranquil noise you only get from someone who likes making food for other people.
Miles doesn’t have a schedule. He’s like a storm front: you never know when he’ll roll through, but everyone feels it when he does.
I’ve figured out my safe windows. The little gaps in their routines where I can exist in the kitchen without setting off alarms. Seven-fifteen is practically perfect: Gabriel’s locked away, Cyrus is still outside, Miles is in his cave.
Garrett is there, but Garrett is the only one who doesn’t make me feel like a walking disaster.
This mostly works with the exception of the other morning when I ran into Miles because I didn’t expect him to be up so early. A mistake I’ve learned from.
But this morning, I blow it. I round the corner and it’s all of them, right there in the kitchen at once.
Gabriel at the table with his laptop, Cyrus at the counter with a protein shake, Garrett at the stove, Miles curled up in the window seat with his knees tucked under his chin, looking out at the world from behind his coffee mug.
Three alphas and the chosen omega. Add the omega they didn’t want and the room seems too full. I think about just turning around and going back to bed.
But Garrett sees me before I can vanish. “Morning, Lily.” His smile is instant and bright and my omega perks right up. I have to push down the little noise that wants to escape before I embarrass myself. “Eggs?”
“Sure. Thanks.”
I slide into the chair closest to the door, farthest from Miles.
That’s a habit I don’t even have to think about anymore.
I’ve been ignoring what happened in the kitchen between us the other day and I intend to keep doing that.
Gabriel glances up, gives me a quick nod, then drops his attention back to whatever’s on his laptop screen.
Cyrus’s eyes land on me, then go straight to my shoulder.
“Let me see that.” It isn’t a question. I tug the collar of my shirt aside, and Cyrus comes over.
His hand is big and careful, peeling back the bandage I’d clumsily taped on this morning, going slow so it doesn’t pull.
His skin is warm against mine. That black pepper and leather scent of his is all around me and I just want to sink into it, let my omega float in that safe, steady heat.
I close my eyes for a second. My body doesn’t care that he’s not mine. It only wants.
“Healing clean,” Cyrus says. He smooths the bandage down, but his hand stays on my shoulder a beat longer than it needs to. Just long enough for me to notice.
A mug clatters onto the counter. Miles is standing now, jaw set hard. He doesn’t say a word, but his glare is strong enough for all of us. He’s looking at the place where Cyrus’s hand is touching me, then at Cyrus himself, and nobody misses the point.
Cyrus pulls his hand away and takes a step back. Just like that, the spell is broken.
I glance at Gabriel. He’s watching me and I catch it, just for a second—desire so raw it looks like pain before he masks it. He wanted to be the one at my side. He wanted his hands on me.
Then it’s gone. He’s all business again, closing his laptop with a soft snap.
“Lily. I need to talk to you about something.”
My stomach goes cold. Nothing good ever starts like that.
Garrett sets a plate of eggs in front of me. I pick up my fork, but my appetite is gone.
“I’ve been in contact with a pack,” Gabriel says. “The Whitfields. Four alphas, good reputation, settled. They’ve seen your file and want to meet you.”
The kitchen goes dead quiet. Even Miles stops glaring for a second.
“Meet me,” I echo.
“They want to take you out tonight. See how you get along. Find out if there’s a connection.” Gabriel says it like he’s reading off a grocery list, like this is just a regular Thursday and not the first day of the rest of my life.
“When?”
“Tonight, Lily.” He’s not kidding. I’m sitting here eating eggs from one of my scent matches, and in a few hours I’ll be sitting across from strangers, pretending I’m not thinking about how Garrett hums when he’s cooking.
Tonight. Like I’m something that can be scheduled.
I try to say I don’t want to go, but Gabriel cuts me off.
“This isn’t optional, Lily.” His tone isn’t cruel, but it’s not up for debate. “You’ve been here a while already and you haven’t even talked to anyone. The clock is ticking. You need to start meeting potential packs, and the Whitfields are a strong option. I know James Whitfield. He’s a good man.”
“You know him.”
“I trust him.”
“That’s not the same thing,” I say, because it isn’t.
Gabriel’s expression tightens. “You’ll be safe. They’ll pick you up at seven, take you to dinner, have you back by ten. If you don’t like them, we move on to the next name on the list. But you have to try. You know you can’t stay here permanently. I’ve been very clear about that.”
I look around. Garrett’s at the stove, holding so still he might as well be carved out of stone. He won’t meet my eyes. Like if he does, he might say something he’s not allowed to.
Cyrus is staring into his protein shake like he expects the answer to be at the bottom.
And Miles is watching me, and I don’t know what he wants. His face is surprisingly stoic for someone who should be gloating.
“Fine,” I say. It tastes like metal.
Gabriel nods. “I’ll let James know.”
He says it flat, like it’s not eating at his flesh under the surface. But I know. I saw it in his eyes just moments ago. I feel it in the connection that reaches between us. He wants me. Badly. Maybe as much as I want him. But he’s still going to send me away.
I eat the eggs. They’re perfect, because Garrett’s eggs are always perfect, and I already know I’ll be comparing every bite of food from here on out to what he makes in this kitchen.
***
The Whitfield pack shows up at seven on the dot, rolling up in a black truck that looks like it cost more than my mother’s home.
I’m standing on the porch in the only dress I own that looks decent, a dark green thing I brought hoping I’d wear it for the alphas I want, not for a meet-and-greet with strangers.
Garrett helped me zip it. His fingers brushed my back and neither of us said a word.
We both pretended that the bolt of electricity between us didn’t happen because what good does it do to acknowledge what we can’t have?
I watch the alphas get out of the truck. James Whitfield leads the way. He’s tall, broad, with dark hair, and a nice face that looks like it’s never heard the word “no.” He shakes my hand, his fingers wrapped around mine, holding on just a little too long.
“Lily. Gabriel’s told us a lot about you.” His smile is big and practiced, built to close deals. “We’re really looking forward to tonight.”
Behind him: Kyle, blond, built like a linebacker. Jamie, lean and quiet, watching me but not really seeing me. And Ren. Ren is shorter, dark-haired, with a smile that feels like a secret between just the two of us.
“Beautiful,” Ren says, but not to me—to James, like he’s complimenting a car or a house. Then, to me: “That dress is perfect on you. Really brings out those gorgeous eyes.”
“Thank you.”
Gabriel is behind me in the doorway, close enough that I can catch his scent, and for a second my omega wants to turn around, grab his shirt, and refuse to budge.
But I walk to the truck instead. James holds the back door for me, and Ren slides in right after, so close his leg is pressed against mine before I even finish buckling the seatbelt.
I shift toward the other seat. He shifts with me.
I’m boxed between Ren and Jamie while James drives and Kyle rides shotgun.
The alpha pheromones in the enclosed truck are strong.
My omega is conflicted—happy to be exposed to alpha pheromones at all, annoyed they’re not the ones she’s grown used to.
Or maybe that last one’s just me. Who knows?
The restaurant is forty minutes away, a steakhouse with valet parking and a host who greets James by name. It’s all dark wood and leather booths, and the type of menu that doesn’t bother with prices. James has a private room reserved at the back, which means no bystanders and nowhere to slip away.
Not that they’re dangerous. I keep telling myself that. Gabriel wouldn’t have sent me if they were. They’re just alphas who want an omega and I’m the one on the menu.
James pulls out my chair for me. Ren takes the seat to my right, so close I can feel the air move every time he shifts. His arm brushes mine every time he reaches for his water glass.
“So, Lily.” James folds his napkin into a neat square, eyes on me. “Tell us about yourself.”
Finally, a normal question. “I’ve been in the registry for… a while. Since I presented. Before that I lived with my mom and sister. My father passed away. I like reading, I’m a decent cook, and I—“
“You’re twenty-four,” James interrupts, nodding. “That’s a long time to go unbonded. Gabriel mentioned your health has been affected by the suppressants and the lack of exposure to alphas.”
So much for normal. And the fact that he didn’t read my file closely enough to remember that I’m twenty-two, not twenty-four tells me all I need to know. He’s looking to fill an empty slot, not looking at me like a person.