Chapter 8
Eight
KIERAN
The chill from the glass walls of the three-seasons porch is strong, but I barely pay attention to it. My alpha body runs hot, especially when I’m agitated.
And right now, I’m fucking agitated.
I stare out at the empty swimming pool, covered for winter, a thin layer of ice forming around its edges. The grounds stretch before me, bare trees stark against the gray sky, but I’m not really seeing them.
My mind is elsewhere. My mind is on her. On Francine.
“Thought I’d find you here. You didn’t look too happy,” says Elias, and I know it’s him even without having to turn around. “Thinking about life?”
I grunt in response, not in the mood for his questioning. Elias is the diplomat of our pack, the one who can talk anyone into anything with that smooth voice and patient demeanor. He’s always the one who can de-escalate fights between us brothers and keep the peace.
I just want to be left alone with my thoughts and confusion.
“Not really thinking about anything.”
“Liar,” he says as he settles into the wicker chair next to mine, stretching his long legs out in front of him. “So, Francine seems nice.”
I clench my jaw, keeping my eyes fixed on the horizon. “She’ll be good for Nora.”
“That’s all you have to say?” Elias presses, a hint of amusement in his voice. “She’ll be good for Nora?”
I shrug, feigning indifference. “What else is there to say? She’s the nanny.”
“She’s an omega,” Elias says, the words hanging in the air between us like a challenge. “A beautiful, unmated omega who’s going to be living in our house. That’s never happened before.”
“I’m aware of what she is,” I say, my voice coming out harder than I intended.
“And how do you feel about that? About having an unmated omega in our pack house?”
I finally turn to look at him, keeping my expression carefully neutral. “She’s not in our pack. She works for us.”
Elias laughs, the sound soft and knowing. “Right. Just an employee. Nothing more.”
But as he speaks, my mind betrays me, conjuring the image of Francine as she stood in our library.
Those wide green eyes, filled with a mixture of excitement and nervousness.
The way she bit her lower lip when I mentioned the guest suite, like she couldn’t believe her luck.
The delicate flush that spread across her cheeks when our eyes met.
So fucking innocent. And so fucking pure.
My cock stirs, hardening against my thigh, and I shift uncomfortably in my seat. Thank fuck for the heavy fabric of my suit pants. The last thing I need is for Elias to notice my physical reaction to the mere thought of her.
“She’ll make a great nanny,” I say firmly, willing my body to calm down. “She has experience, and Nora already likes her. That’s all that matters.”
Elias studies me for a long moment, those amber eyes seeing too much. He’s waiting for more, waiting for me to acknowledge what we both know deep down. It’s the fact that having an unmated omega in our home changes everything.
And my body is already responding to her presence in ways I can’t control.
“Sure,” Elias finally says, drawing out the word in a way that makes it clear he doesn’t believe me for a second. “Just a nanny.”
The tension in my body becomes unbearable. I push myself up from the chair and begin pacing the length of the enclosed porch, my footsteps echoing against the glass. My erection is painful now, straining against my pants, and every movement sends a fresh jolt of awareness through my body.
Elias watches me pace, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
“You know,” he says conversationally. “It’s okay for us to take on an omega. It’s natural.”
“Don’t,” I growl, the word ripping from my throat.
“Don’t what? She’s an attractive omega who might be compatible with our pack.”
“It’s never going to happen,” I say, wanting an end to this ridiculous conversation.
Elias sighs, the sound heavy with disappointment. He stands, straightening his shirt with meticulous care.
“You can’t keep running from this, Kieran,” he says quietly. “We need an omega. The pack is incomplete without one.”
“We’re doing fine. We don’t need one.”
“But are we?” Elias challenges, his voice suddenly sharp. “We know Rowan barely sleeps. Drake is desperate for a real connection. I’m… We’re not whole, Kieran. You know that.”
I close my eyes briefly, fighting against the truth in his words. Of course, I know it. I feel the physical ache, a hollow space in my chest where our pack’s heart should be. But I have to protect Nora, especially after what happened to our parents.
“We’re not having this conversation right now,” I say, turning away from him.
“You’re going to have to face this eventually,” he says, striding towards the door, pausing with his hand on the handle. “Before one of us decides, we can’t wait any longer. And you know Drake isn’t one to wait.”
The door slides open and closed, leaving me alone with the chill air and the weight of his words. If I don’t move forward and allow us to become a complete pack, I might lose my brothers. They might leave, form their own packs, and find their own omegas.
The thought sends a spike of fear through me, cold and sharp. They’re all I have left after our parents died in the fire. Them and Nora. I can’t lose them too.
The distant sound of tires on gravel pulls me from my thoughts. I move closer to the windows, watching as the black limo glides up the circular driveway, coming to a stop at the main entrance.
Francine is back, and my heart immediately pounds faster.
Drake emerges first, his movements fluid and confident. Then he extends a hand into the car, and Francine appears, her red hair catching the late afternoon light like a flame.
Something twists in my chest at the sight of her. Even from this distance, I can see the nervousness in her posture, the way she clutches her coat around herself as she looks up at the mansion. So vulnerable. So alone.
And then Drake places a hand on the small of her back, guiding her toward the door, and that twisting in my chest transforms into a hot spike of jealousy that takes me by surprise with its ferocity.
Fuck. This is exactly what I was afraid of. One unmated omega in our midst, and we’re already possessive of her. Already losing control.
I straighten my shoulders, smoothing a hand down the front of my suit jacket. I need to establish rules. Clear, firm boundaries that will keep us all safe while she’s under our roof. No touching. No flirting. No letting our guard down. Professional distance at all times.
I stride toward the door, my decision made. I’ll speak to her tonight, lay down the law before things get out of hand. Before my brothers or I do something we might regret.
I stand outside her door, ready to knock, but listening as she’s moving stuff around.
I realize my hand is already shaking. What the fuck is wrong with me? I’ve faced down real-estate rivals, negotiated billion-dollar deals, and never once lost my composure. Yet here I am, trembling like some inexperienced pup at the thought of being alone with her.
I shouldn’t be afraid of being alone with her again.
I take a deep breath, forcing my shoulders to relax, my face to assume the cool, detached expression I’ve perfected over years of business dealings.
I knock once. Firmly.
“Come in,” she says, her voice light. God, her voice sounds like music to my ears. I open the door, and I see her.
Francine is bent over her open suitcase on the bed, her back to the door.
Her long red hair has escaped its ponytail, cascading down her back in a waterfall of copper and gold.
She’s changed out of the clothes she wore earlier into something more comfortable.
The black leggings she wears now hug the curves of her ass and thighs like a second skin, leaving nothing to the imagination.
The oversized t-shirt has ridden up slightly as she bends, revealing a strip of pale skin at her lower back.
I freeze in the doorway, unable to move, unable to speak, as if the air has been suddenly sucked from my lungs.
The room is covered in her scent. Her pure, undiluted cherry blossom scent fills the room. It’s sweet, heady, and intoxicating.
What the hell? The scent wraps around me, seeping into my pores, flooding my system like a drug.
My nostrils flare, drawing it deeper into my lungs, and my wolf surges forward, clawing at my control, desperate to get closer to the source of that delicious smell.
My cock, which had finally begun to soften after my conversation with Elias, hardens instantly, pressing painfully against the confines of my pants.
I go completely still, every muscle in my body locking into place as I fight not to rut her on the spot. Her smell would be stronger between her legs. I know it if I tried to smell her. I take a sharp, involuntary breath, and it’s a mistake.
Her scent fills me more completely, making my head swim and my pulse thunder in my ears.
I turn my head slightly, trying to find clean air that isn’t saturated with her, but it’s useless. The entire room is filled with her essence, as if she’s marked every corner as hers. The thought sends a jolt of pleasure through me that’s almost painful in its intensity.
She hasn’t noticed me yet, still focused on unpacking, her movements graceful and unhurried.
I’m transfixed, watching the way she moves, imagining how that body would feel beneath mine and how those thighs would part for me.
I imagine her moans as I wrap her hair around my fist to pull her head back and mark her soft throat.
My hands curl slowly into fists, nails digging into my palms hard enough to draw blood.
I can smell her scent gathering between her thighs.
Fuck, she’s aroused too, responding to my presence even without seeing me.
My instincts scream at me to cross the room, to flip her onto her back, to tear those leggings away and bury myself inside her.
The intensity of my desire terrifies me. I’ve never felt this out of control, this close to losing myself to my baser instincts. Not even during my ruts, which I’ve always managed with clinical detachment, finding release with willing betas who mean nothing to me.
This is different. This is primal.
I want to tear her clothes off with my teeth.
I want to push her face-down into the mattress and mount her from behind, the way wolves do.
I want to knot her, fill her with my seed, watch her belly swell with my pups.
I want to mark every inch of her skin with my scent, my teeth, so that no other alpha besides my pack would dare come near her.
The growl builds in my chest before I can stop it, low and threatening, rumbling up through my throat until it fills the quiet room.
Francine freezes instantly, her body going rigid. Slowly, she straightens and turns to look over her shoulder, her movements cautious, like prey that’s suddenly sensed a predator. Her eyes meet mine instantly, and I see the moment fear flickers across them. But she takes a long inhale.
She can smell me, too. She can sense my desire for her radiating from me in waves.
I take a deliberate step backward, putting distance between us. My body screams in protest at the retreat, but I silence it ruthlessly. I will not be ruled by instinct.
“You need your blockers,” I growl out. I can’t think with her scent floating around me. Everywhere.
She’s still frozen, not knowing what to do with me in her bedroom.
“They’re on the dresser,” she whispers, her voice barely audible even to my enhanced hearing. “Could you... could you bring them to me?”
If she moves toward me, if she closes the distance between us, I won’t be able to restrain myself. The thin thread of my control, already fraying, would snap completely.
I nod once, sharply, and move to the dresser where a small bottle of scent-blocking lotion sits. My hand closes around it, fingers tightening until I hear the plastic crack. I loosen my grip immediately, terrified of breaking it, of leaving her without protection against what I’m feeling right now.
I turn back to her, the bottle clutched in my hand like a lifeline.
My back is rigid as I cross the room, every step measured, deliberate. I stop an arm’s length away, extending the bottle toward her.
Francine steps closer to take it, her movements hesitant but graceful. Our fingers brush as she takes the bottle from me, and the brief contact sends a bolt of electricity straight to my groin. Another growl escapes me, lower this time, almost a moan.
The space between us feels charged, crackling with an energy I can’t name but recognize instinctively.
Time stretches as we stand there, neither moving, both breathing too quickly.
The sound of her heartbeat fills my ears, racing to match my own.
She smells of cherries and fear and arousal, a combination so intoxicating I have to lock my knees to keep from swaying toward her.
“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, her voice soft and uncertain. “I thought I put enough on before coming here. I didn’t think…”
“Don’t apologize,” I interrupt, the words coming out fiercer than intended, almost angry. I’m not angry at her at all. “Don’t ever apologize for what you are.”
Her face flushes a delicate pink at my words, her lips parting slightly in surprise. The sight of that pink tongue darting out to wet her lower lip nearly undoes me completely. I take another step back, needing the distance like I need air to breathe.
We stand in the charged quiet, the only sounds our breathing and the distant ticking of a clock somewhere in the house. My pulse is loud in my ears, drowning out rational thought. All I want is to knot her.
“Dinner is at seven,” I finally manage to say, my voice rough with strain. “We’ll discuss the house rules then. Things you should know while you’re staying here.”
Things that will keep you safe from me.
Before she can respond, I turn and stride out of the room without another word, closing the door firmly behind me. I lean against it for a moment, my forehead pressed to the cool wood, trying to regain some semblance of control.
My cock throbs painfully, demanding to claim, demanding her.
I ignore it, pushing away from the door and heading for my own room at the opposite end of the hall. I need a cold shower. I need distance. I need to regain the iron control that has defined my life for so long.