Chapter 50
fifty
“How about… here?”
I step seven paces to the left before stopping on my chosen spot. Gideon watches, his gaze narrow and calculating. “Two feet back.”
Because this is the first thing he’s wanted to do with me in weeks, I oblige. Once I’m standing where he wants me, he nods. “Yeah, that’s good. And then the other corner would be about…”
He saunters approximately twelve meters away and halts. “Here?”
I shrug. “Depends. Are we doing a tennis court or a pickleball court?”
He must know I’m only asking to fuck with him, but a glower darkens his features anyway. “Pickleball,” he snaps, “is not a real sport.”
We’ve had this debate a million times. “You’re being pedantic,” I sing-song.
He rolls his eyes, bending to mark his spot in the overgrown grass with a can of spray paint dangling from his left hand. He caps it before tossing it over—likely because he respects my silk lounge set, not necessarily me.
“You just want a pickleball court because they’re trending,” he huffs back. “And you still don’t know how to hold a racket.”
He isn’t wrong. I grin, shrugging. “Fine. We’ll build a tennis court with a pickleball outline, and then I’ll prove to Violet how much more fun my sport is.”
Gideon snorts, surveying the rectangle we’ve blocked out. It’s on the left side of the manor, well away from Violet’s beloved meadow and garden. I glance around, envisioning fresh landscaping and a new court. “We should add a sauna.”
To my surprise, Gideon agrees. “And a wet bar.”
I quirk a brow. “Dress code?”
He scoffs. “Proper tennis-whites. Duh.”
I sling an arm around his shoulder and give him a fond shake. “Aww, there’s my little trust-fund baby.”
He laughs me off, shoving my side. “God, you reek. Have you totally stopped de-scenting altogether?”
I bounce my eyebrows. “Uh, have you seen my girl? Damn straight I’ve stopped de-scenting.”
He’s one to talk, anyway. After his spike two days ago, he’s still covered in Atlas’s rich, bitter scent. I won’t complain, though. After the weirdness between us over Violet’s arrival—and the self-reflection it’s caused me—I’ll take any time my best friend is willing to offer me.
A sudden flurry of laughter and movement interrupts us.
We both turn just in time to track a flash of golden blonde as it darts into the meadow on the other side of the backyard.
Violet giggles as Ryker crashes after her, growling with a grin on his face.
When he finally pounces, she trills a happy shriek.
Gideon observes just long enough to figure out what’s about to happen. Then he turns to me with his mouth hanging open and accusation in his eyes. “Again?”
I wince, palming the back of my neck. “Yeahhhhh,” I admit. “I might have created a bit of a monster.”
Since Ryker finally knotted our omega two days ago, he’s been all over her.
It’s pretty normal, actually, for alphas to hoard their mates after claiming them for the first time; I think it’s a bit worse than usual for our big guy because he held out so long.
Plus, you know, he’s Ryker—feral and intense.
They still tend to hook up outside, where he doesn’t feel suffocated, but I think letting them reconnect—over and over and over—has been good for them.
Yesterday, he even calmed down enough to resume eating meals with the rest of us…
Although he kept Violet in his lap and fed her from his own plate the whole time.
If his stilted contributions to our dinner conversation last night were any indication, all the knotting has helped his Alpha tremendously. He can talk fairly well, now. Violet says he speaks to her much more in private, but still.
Ryker asked me to pass the butter, guys.
And he didn’t even threaten to murder me afterward.
I bounce a shrug, pretending Violet’s moans aren’t tenting the front of my lounge pants. “What? It’s his turn.”
Gideon makes a face, his shoulders tensing as he blinks in their general direction. I note the odd, pale look on his face and narrow my eyes. Instincts clash in my center, protective and suspicious.
I try for a light tone, pretending his answer doesn’t matter. “What’s it to you, anyway?”
Gideon shudders. He shakes his head to play off the shiver, but a thread of maple-pecan perfume escapes the barrier of his neutralizer. “Nothing,” he chips back, a bit too quickly. “I don’t care.”
Uh-huh.
He sounds a lot like he did back in college, the week he started “therapy” with a certain Dr. Varma. I’d ask how his sessions were; he’d get twitchy and start snapping speedy answers.
But he only acted that way because he liked Atlas and didn’t want to admit—
Oh.
OH.
I curve my brows, leaning away in shock. Gideon relents easier than I expect, dropping his taut posture with a heavy sigh. “It’s nothing. Just… I think she’s gorgeous. And sweet. And lately, her perfume and these noises…”
His own scent swells as another quiver ticks through him. My jaw drops. He makes a frustrated sound and casts his eyes to our feet, muttering, “I’ve never been attracted to another omega before, so it’s probably just the half-bond messing with my head…”
But what if it’s not?
Gideon feels my unspoken question and cringes, shooting me a guilty glance. “I promise I won’t, like, touch her or anything. I know she’s yours.” His grimace intensifies as he rambles, “Not that she would want me to touch her. I only mean—”
There must be something entirely fucking wrong with me—or maybe something very right about this—because I find myself biting back a grin. I know I should be demanding a million answers, but suddenly there’s only one question that feels important.
“Did you ask her? If she would want that?”
Gideon balks. “No. Finn. That would be insane. She’s another omega, and she’s half-bonded to my alpha—who hasn’t even laid a finger on her, by the way. Also, she’s leaving after her heat, along with you and Ryker, so…”
He falls silent, letting the unspoken truth reverberate between us.
We’re only breaking up our pack to go with her because she’s our mate… and she’s only leaving because he’s making her.
Gideon and I have been friends for a long time, but I’m not sure if we’ve ever stood eye-to-eye like this. I stare at him, and he stares back, both trying to figure out what comes next.
Has he changed his mind? Does he want her to stay, even if it means he’ll eventually have to share Atlas? Or does he… want that, now? All three of them, together? All five of us, as a real family?
He’s right—having two omegas in a pack just isn’t done. Bonds are forged through one central omega. Always. But if he was willing to let her have the bond she accidentally started… and he felt secure enough to stay with us and be a part of this without a tether of his own…
Well, it would be a miracle.
The Gideon I know is many things, but he’s never been secure in his worth. And he certainly didn’t trust Atlas’s promise to stay by his side until this whole mess proved it once and for all.
Perhaps going through that has changed things for him, though. Because my best friend doesn’t snap or scowl. When another breathy keen echoes from the meadow, he openly perfumes, letting me sense it. Then he swallows hard, dropping his voice lower.
“Would you guys even want that? To be, like, a true pack? With her… and me?”
I think he’s talking about his heats, which have historically been reserved only for Atlas. Because if we stay… and Violet becomes a part of that picture… presumably, Ryker and I would, too.
Back in college, it was no secret that I would happily join his heats as an active participant, had I been invited.
He wanted to keep our packmate relationship platonic, at the time.
And then Atlas came into the picture. I’m not sure if they’d change things up, now, but even if Gideon doesn’t want me to touch him, and Ryker and I were just there for support while our girl pitched in…
I picture Violet and Gideon, tangled together. Stroking each other’s soft skin and hair. Whining for one another.
I don’t have to fake the way my musk rises. “It’s a tempting thought.” I grin. “But this isn’t about what we want, Gid. It’s about you and her. As long as you’re happy, I’m pretty sure the rest of us will figure it out. All of it.”
Gideon hears my subtle emphasis and trembles, releasing another burst of brown-sugar warmth. He exhales again, sliding his eyes toward the meadow.
Toward Violet.
“Christ,” he mutters. “I was afraid you’d say that.”