Chapter 30
30
Layne
I walk out of Valentine’s office, my body buzzing, my thoughts drifting peacefully, but no matter how blitzed I am, and how good he made me feel, I really wasn’t playing around yesterday about being close to my heat. Because of that, the first stop I make, even before coffee and snuggles from my two other not-so-fake husbands, is medication. And a shower.
Under normal circumstances, there’s no way I’d wash Valentine’s scent from my body, but coupled with how close my heat is, I have no choice. Each time I move, his scent plumes in reminder of what we just did on a physical level and who he is to me. It lingers like a lullaby in my DNA, encouraging the nesting instincts that are slowly but surely starting to accompany each passing minute.
There’s a good reason why I haven’t talked a great deal about my impending heat with Pack De Luca, even though I know I need to, and it’s because I’m absolutely scared shitless. I’m pretty much a heat virgin. While on the run, I managed my heats by not dealing with them, which is a dangerous practice, though not as dangerous as doing a heat cycle with people I don’t know. I never had enough trust to walk into one of the heat facilities some un-bonded Omegas use. Instead, I overmedicated and tried to manage the physical aspects on my own. The research I did on delaying heat cycles suggested the first real one could be a doozy, which may explain why I’ve been a little cock obsessed since I fell into this arrangement.
Popping a couple of the tabs, I hop in the shower and decide to wash my hair while waiting for the medication to start taking effect. By the time I’m walking back out of the bathroom to change, the metallic taste I’ve come to associate with suppressors coats the back of my throat. Despite knowing using the heat suppressor is the right thing to do, my joy dwindles a little.
Getting so wound up in Valentine was definitely not how I thought I would start the day, but since we keep doing it, maybe it is our thing. I could say the same for Matteo. I seriously feel myself falling every time I see him, while with Dante, it’s like finding a part of me I’ve lost. Even I am starting to think it really was a good thing that Matteo got shot, or seriously, how else would we have happened? I’m sure I would view them very differently if they’d bought or kidnapped me. Whether it makes sense or not, being tricked into a fake arrangement, which flipped into a marriage of convenience, is quite different in my view.
Dressing in one of the overly feminine dresses Dante hand-selected for me, I head toward where the three of them are. Our connection might only be blossoming, but it’s already so tangible, I could probably close my eyes and be able to find them.
As I round the corner to the kitchen, Bella and Edward trot over in greeting, and I drop to my knees to say hello. Matteo comes in from the balcony with an empty coffee cup in his hand.
I snuggle the dogs quickly, then jump up and walk straight into him. Of course, his arms are ready to catch me, not that I think I’ll ever get the chance to fall again with them around.
“Did you take the dogs out already?” I ask, burying my hands under his hoodie. He’s so warm, it sends tingles all over me.
“Yeah. Kind of sounded like Valentine was on a pretty serious call.” He smirks when he looks down at me.
“Very serious, thank you.” I smile back.
After a relatively chaste kiss, if you compare them to all the others we’ve been sharing, Matteo leads me into the kitchen before pointing at a stool for me to sit on.
“Any food you can’t eat when you’re on the tabs?”
“No, not really. Can you tell I took them already? That I’m back on them?” I ask, only a little surprised. If I put money on it, I’d say Matteo isn’t picking up on the smallest change in my scent; he’s seeing it on a physical level because that’s the way we are. We’re not those highs and lows of Alpha and Omega power plays. When I’m with him, I’m living life in the sweet spot of gentle equilibrium.
“I just know. Plus, I heard you popping the pack before your shower.”
“And you’re okay with it?”
“It’s not about me being okay with anything, Layne. If the medication helps you, makes you feel safer, then I’m all for it. If I had the choice, you’d never touch anything like suppressors or desensitizers again.” He looks so serious, so sweet until he winks at me. “Admittedly, if I had the choice, I’d make you suck my cock and finger my asshole on the busiest corner in downtown New York during peak hour too.”
I close my eyes and dissolve into a fit of laughter, because he has the dirtiest, smuttiest mouth sometimes, but god, it works for me on so many levels.
When I look at him again, I’m greeted by the face of an angel. He’s such a good actor, but I can read the truth in his eyes now without even trying. Of course, he just takes us back to where we were before he started talking dirty—our breakfast discussion. “Eggs okay? I was going to make omelets.”
“Sounds so good. Anything I can help with?”
“Undress yourself and sit there with your tits ready for me to…”
“Matteo!”
“Hey!” He throws his hands up. “Just testing to see how good those suppressors are.”
I wave him away, leaning my chin on my hands as I watch him pulling food out of the fridge. “I’m fine, but what about you? How hard are you right now?”
Instead of using his words, he stops what he’s doing, walks around to where I am sitting, and pulls his sweats down to show me. And, yeah, he is hard. His fist wraps around his length as he looks at me.
“We’re having breakfast, checking what we need to do for the day, then I am taking you to my bed, so I can jerk off over you, as opposed to jerking off by myself, only using my very vivid imagination like I already did earlier this morning.”
“Really?”
He walks backward away from me, washing his hands before returning to the task of preparing breakfast. “You have no idea the noises I heard coming out of Valentine's office. And I’ve always liked the volume up when I watch porn, so yeah, eavesdropping on the sounds coming out of that room was enough for me to come in my fist.”
I hum in agreement. “I have to say, I’m like that too. Hearing people having sex is almost as good as watching, but neither beats actually being involved.”
Our conversation falls away as I watch him get to work. Admittedly, I spend a fair bit of time watching him. Matteo is all sorts of hot.
Valentine joins us, and he walks past me, brushing a hand over my shoulders as he takes over the coffee machine.
“Did you get anything from Jana?” he asks at the same time the steamer hisses to life.
Instead of answering him, because I would literally be yelling, I hop off the stool and race back to my room, looking for my phone. I wait until I’m back in the kitchen with them before I even turn the screen on. I’m not sure why, but it feels right.
And there is a message that only arrived an hour ago. I shoot Jana a quick thanks and wish her a good day. I also type up another message but stop partway through. “Can Jana and her pack meet you guys?”
Before anyone can answer, the elevator doors open, and Dante enters, wearing a dark suit to match the dark expression on his face. He looks at me and softens. Dropping his jacket over the chair, he prowls toward me with his shoulder holster on and yanks off his tie. Without another word, he’s behind me, towering over me before he twists me toward him and kisses me with a desperation that feels like we’ve been apart for days. It’s over before it starts, but he packs a lot into his kiss.
“Good morning.” I grin against his lips.
Dante stands behind me, not moving too far, accepting a coffee from his brother.
“What’s happened?” Valentine asks.
“Give me a sec. I need this.” He drags his chair behind mine, so he can hug me while he drinks his coffee. The other two get back to what they were doing, giving Dante the break he asked for before the interrogation starts.
“I didn’t know you left,” I admit. I feel sad I missed him.
“Don’t worry. I totally felt you up while you were sleeping when I came to say goodbye. Did you go back on your medication?”
I scrunch my nose up in answer. Of course, Dante is both perceptive and endearingly sweet, but apparently, he’s only getting started this morning.
“Not for long, though,” he insists. “There’s nothing we want more than to make you ours properly and spend time with you in your nest. Which we also need to fix, so it feels more like you.”
“You don’t! I love it.”
“You’ll love it more when we’re done. It needs your special touch on it. You ready to talk about how fucked up shit just got?”
“Are you?”
He drops his head against my shoulder, and I reach over and run my fingernails through his hair. He purrs and pushes against my fingers, twisting this way and that before moving away. Standing, he kind of shakes himself, and when he looks at me, I can see his work persona shining through. The focus and determination in his eyes make him look colder. He’s still undeniably stunning, but my sweet Dante is all business. When he looks at Valentine, Dante gets a small nod to go ahead, which gives me the heads-up that the pack already knows more than I do.
“Did you get an image from Jana?” Dante refuses to sit down, and when Matteo turns the pans down to low, I get another confirmation that something not great has happened.
I nod my answer while reaching for my phone to pull up the text Jana sent. Valentine and Dante come close enough to see the grainy image of Rocco filling the screen.
While Dante gets the coffee his brother was preparing and finishes with the food, Valentine takes over the discussion.
“Do you remember who Legos is?”
It takes me a moment, but I do. “Carlos and Gina’s son. I didn’t meet him, and Matteo only referred to him as one of your people.”
Valentine nods. “That’s right. Unrelated, but tomorrow night, we’re going out. I’ve asked our most loyal to come, so they can meet you properly. It’s important you know who we trust, because they will protect you with their lives if we can’t.”
“Okay.”
“Back to Legos. Last night, he received a tip and called Dante to let him know. They both went to investigate because it was clearly a set up aimed at us.”
“And it was Rocco?” I ask, jumping to where this conversation is obviously heading.
“It seems so,” Valentine says, his mannerisms so different from how he was with me earlier. But this more businesslike, colder version is no less appealing. “We were also able to pull images from the camera feed when we got attacked here, and if you’re saying the image Jana sent is Rocco, then I can say the same. He was involved in the hit on our building and the others on that day.”
“He’s dead?” I ask, my gut dropping but hope swirling. It’s not great to wish death on someone, but at the same time, what he did to me was inexcusable.
Matteo starts plating the food. “Okay, we’re going to hit pause on this discussion. The three of us have no issue talking shop and eating, but we won’t do the same with our wife. She needs food because we’ve had to ask her to restart her medication. And looking after her welfare is more important than pretty much anything right now.”
The other two agree in an instant, bustling around to help Matteo finish with breakfast, and I swear something in me melts even more as I get a very real reminder of how sure they are of me.
I blow out a huge sigh. So big, the three of them turn to look at me.
“You just keep chasing away bad memories. Thank you.” I talk quietly, making sure to look at each of them in their eyes, too, so they understand my sincerity. I get varying degrees of acknowledgement, as unique as they are. Then I slip into a slightly different persona than they’re used to. “We can talk shop. I’d love it, actually. I haven’t used that side of my brain for way too long. Don’t forget, I grew up poring over evidence photos, reading hospital or police reports, and combing through witness statements. I don’t think there is an injury or death I haven’t seen, and considering how the Rothchild family got their reputation, you know I’m pretty much immune to the practices some syndicates use on their victims. I may be able to help.”
Dante is still standing on the opposite side of the island, but when I finish speaking, he rounds the counter and slams his lips against mine, growling and snarling like a wild wolf. He pulls back when Valentine starts dragging him away, but he makes heart hands.
His dramatics stop the creeping tension, and when he sits down, he winks before grabbing the ketchup and smothering his eggs.
“Dante,” I hiss, looking distastefully at his plate. “That really does change things between us.”
He shrugs, unconcerned, because he knows I’m lying before he points at my plate, the message to start eating impossible to ignore.
Valentine walks over and takes a seat next to me, waiting for me to eat before he does. “Your involvement is welcome in anything we do. If I’m honest, I want you involved in everything we do. Matty was right to be worried about how you would react if we disclosed his injuries before checking. It’s eerie how effortlessly you fit in. Somehow, you have this ability to make us feel like we’ve been together and doing this for a long time. The sensation is crazy, and it sometimes makes us forget you haven’t been with us that long at all. Sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry for,” I say, scooping some omelet onto my toast.
“We always eat together. This”—he waves his hand around the kitchen—“is why we do what we do. For times to sit and eat and simply be a family.”
And, no shit, it’s lucky the suppressors are kicking into gear, or Pack De Luca would have to watch me burst into tears again at how poignant, but also how necessary, his words are.