6. Idris
Idris
My gaze walks around the guest room, inventorying everything that will have to be aired out or wiped down to rid this room of our scents.
There’s still several pillows in packages which I’ll make sure become the base of Theo’s nest should he choose to say.
A soft huff of breath drags my focus back to Callie between us, her glazed over eyes looking up at me, her lips parted as Sloane presses himself closer to her.
She lets out a small gasp, letting me know that Sloane is very much still inside of her and no doubt on the edge of fucking her into subspace again.
Not that I wouldn’t be game to watch. I lean down to kiss her forehead, running my fingers through her hair as the front door opens and closes downstairs, the sound cutting through the room with enough force to make Callie clutch the hem of my shirt where it barely covers her thighs.
Her gaze moves over the pillows, the blanket half on the floor, the lamp glowing warmly beside a pile of opened bags. “I really do have to wash everything now,” she says, her voice halfway between laughter and panic.
Before I can answer, Garrett’s anger reaches me through the pack bond. It’s cold and controlled, not a flare he’s lost hold of, but a tightened thread of displeasure pulled clean through the house.
Sloane meets my gaze, slowly pulling back as he reaches for the nearest blanket and wraps it around Callie’s shoulders. “We’ll fix it in the morning, baby,” he says, pressing a kiss into her hair. “You’re going to bed before you start a laundry cycle in my shirt and nothing else.”
“Theo gets here Friday afternoon!”
“And we’ll have all morning.” He gathers her up in his arms before shooting a glance over at me, offering me a small nod. “Come on, baby. You can boss us around at sunrise. I’ll even let you pretend I know how to fold fitted sheets.”
Callie lets out a breath that almost becomes a laugh, but she looks back at me before Sloane gets her through the doorway.
I touch her cheek once, keeping my face calm because Garrett’s displeasure is still sitting at the edge of the bond.
“I’m just going to check on Garrett. I’ll be up soon,” I tell her.
Sloane holds my gaze for a moment over her shoulder before disappearing down the hall, murmuring something too low for me to catch. I follow them just to grab a pair of sweats to change into before going downstairs.
Garrett is in the study with his suit jacket off and his tie loosened by a precise inch. His attention is firmly focused on two open folders: Bellwether’s placement packet on one side, and the financial-history clearance on the other he’s been working on ever since we chose Theo.
My pack Alpha chuckles, looking up as I enter the room, his eyes raking over my bare chest. “The guest room was a choice. It must smell like the three of you,” he says, setting his pen down with care. His gaze drops lower briefly, then back to my face. “I take it everyone enjoyed themselves.”
“Sloane’s running hot,” I say, because Garrett is still head Alpha and the state of one Alpha this close to rut isn’t something I hide from him. “It started before we left Blackline. He’s got control of it, but Callie and the idea of Theo have him wound tighter than usual.”
Garrett’s expression changes by almost nothing, but the bond sharpens with interest. “Rut-hot or possessive-hot?”
“The edge of rut,” I say. “He’s more excited than he’s letting on but he’s got enough self-control that I know he’s not going to hurt anyone.”
“So, he took advantage of it upstairs?” Garrett cocks his head to the side, narrowing his gaze at me. The last time Sloane went into rut, he stole Callie from the world for nearly two days. Garrett entered the room once and was immediately thrown out by a snarling Alpha.
I sigh moving farther into the room. “No, he met his needs.” I rub the bridge of my nose, no longer wanting to explain that Sloane’s rut is a good biological response.
Garrett looks back down at the financial folder, one finger pressing against the stamped review notice hard enough to bend the corner and thankfully diverts the conversation. “Bellwether still hasn’t cleared the family history.”
That shifts the room beneath me. “What are they stalling on?”
“Old Crane assets and litigation history from before I took control of the estate. Things they already have answers for.” His voice stays even, but the bond doesn’t.
“They know who I am. They know what this pack can provide. I’ve given them holdings, liquidity, insurance, household staffing, risk assessments, everything they asked for, and they’re still treating this like a pack that can’t support an Omega. ”
The anger I felt upstairs makes more sense then. Garrett has spent the day being asked to prove stability to people who already know his name, and he’s come home to a guest room wrecked with sex, scent, and softness he didn’t authorize.
“So Friday needs to look stable,” I say.
Garrett’s eyes lift. “Friday needs to be stable.”
“Those aren’t the same thing.”
His mouth tightens at one corner. “It isn’t only the linens or the guest bedroom I’m worried about, Idris.
Bellwether was specific about first-entry spaces.
Theo has a history of verbal locking and stress shutdown during transitions.
If he walks into a room saturated with established pack scents, especially with Sloane already running close to rut, it could confuse the attachment process. ”
“Theo’s meeting a pack, not checking into a clinic,” I say.
His expression darkens, the muscles in his neck going taut. “That’s exactly why we need to be careful. Pack instinct can overwhelm good judgment, especially when an Omega has been deprived of safety long enough to attach quickly to the first person who offers softness.”
The word softness lands between us, and I know he doesn’t mean it as an accusation. I also know he means Callie.
I move closer to the desk, stopping where the lamplight reaches but not touching the papers. “You’re trying to decide where he’ll feel safe before he gets here.”
“I’m trying to keep him from mistaking intensity for safety.” Garrett leans back slightly, controlled as always, but his fingers are still resting on the edge of the Bellwether folder. “You know how these placements can go. You’ve read the same files I have.”
“I’ve read them. I’ve also met enough frightened Omegas to know the first plan usually breaks in the doorway.
” I keep my voice low because raising it would let him turn this into rank.
“Theo may not care about the room. He may not care about the linens. He may walk in, scent the house, and choose a chair no one thought about because it’s near a window.
Or he may stand in the foyer and not move until someone speaks to him like he’s a person instead of a file. ”
Garrett’s eyes sharpen. For a moment, I see the boy I grew up with under the polish, the one who used to argue pack law with adults twice his age and win because he could outwait their tempers.
I remember him at seventeen standing between me and a senior Alpha who thought tenacity was something only brute force could prove.
Garrett hadn’t barked. He hadn’t postured.
He’d taken that room apart one calm sentence at a time until the man backed down without understanding how he’d lost.
I loved him for that once. Not romantically, but with the loyalty of someone who knew exactly what it meant to be protected by another person’s control.
I can still see that part of him trying to prevent harm.
I can also see what happens when his need to prevent harm starts making decisions for everyone else.
“You think I’m treating him like a file,” Garrett says.
I mull over the right answer. Bringing in an Omega into this pack was his idea first and I know it’ll pain him the moment Theo chooses someone else as their safe place.
Ultimately, I know Theo will find Garrett but I also know Callie’s charm outranks all of ours combined.
“I think you’re scared he’ll choose wrong if you don’t narrow the room first.”
Garrett’s hand stills on the folder. He looks toward the ceiling for the briefest moment, and I know he’s thinking of the guest room, of Callie’s scent, of the mess upstairs that won’t fit cleanly into any Bellwether recommendation.
“He’s been mishandled enough,” Garrett says, quieter now.
“A vulnerable Omega doesn’t need to arrive into chaos. ”
“No,” I agree. “He doesn’t. But warmth isn’t chaos just because you didn’t arrange it.”
I see it in the pause before he looks back at me. Garrett rarely gives anything away with his face, but I know his silences better than most people know shouting.
For a few seconds, neither of us speaks. Garrett finally lowers his gaze to the folder again. “The room needs to be neutral by Friday afternoon.”
“The linens will be clean,” I say. “The room will be ready. But we’re not scrubbing Callie out of the house.” That last line slips out before I can stop it but it feels important.
His eyes lift to mine.
“She’s our Beta,” I continue, because this is the line I can feel underneath everything else.
“Her scent belongs in the hall, in the blankets, in the rooms she walks through. If Theo can’t handle the full weight of the house on the first day, we’ll manage that with care.
But we’re not going to make her vanish from her own home to make the paperwork cleaner. ”
Garrett doesn’t answer immediately. His jaw flexes once, barely there, and then he gives a small nod that isn’t agreement so much as a decision to stop pushing tonight. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.”
“No.” I keep my voice level before he can turn the conversation into rank. “Sloane and I told Callie she isn’t preparing the house so the rest of us can build a pack around her. I need you to answer me now. Is she part of what Theo’s being invited into?”
Garrett’s attention settles fully on me. “Calliope is part of this pack.”
“That’s still not what I asked.”
The pause stretches between us before he finally says, “Yes. She’s part of what he’s being invited into.”
I leave the study knowing the answer took too long but knowing if I stay any longer, I might say something I regret.
Callie’s curled in the center of the bed with Sloane wrapped around her from behind when I get there, her fingers moving over his wrist in slow strokes as Sloane’s mouth rests against the back of her neck, his eyes half-open.
He only watches me cross the room, his scent settling when he sees I’m not bringing the argument with me.
Callie lifts her head. “Are we in trouble?”
I pull back the covers, climbing under the covers as Callie reorients herself between us. “No, princess. He wasn’t angry about that. It seems the center is bullshitting with the paperwork and you know how much our Alpha loves crossing his t’s and dotting his I’s.”
She snorts, burying her head in my chest. “Ah. But we still have to get up early to clean the room.” She pauses. “You guys might have to do it. I can’t feel my legs.”
I just shake my head as Sloane wraps his arms around her waist, dragging her back against him. She lets out a soft gasp that turns into a sigh.
“Jesus, Sloane, you’re inside of her again?”
He hums as Callie offers me a small smile. “He started again the moment you left, actually.” Her cheeks flush red as I press a kiss to her nose.
“Get some rest. Both of you,” I murmur as Callie’s nose drags down my collar. She rocks into me, and I glare over her shoulder at Sloane. “Quit it. She still has work tomorrow, and I’m not explaining to the administration that their professor can’t stand because her Alpha fucked her stupid.”
Sloane offers me a sloppy grin but eases his hips.
Then he reaches across Callie, hooks his hand behind my neck, and pulls me into a slow kiss over her shoulder.
His mouth stays soft against mine even while his cock remains buried inside her, and Callie’s purr deepens between us before he finally settles.