Chapter 19
Iggy
The front door crashing open echoes through the house. Cass and I glance at each other, then back to the empty room at hand, considering the unthinkable: an omega's nest in our warehouse. I sit on my ass, back against the wall, forearms draped over my knees, staring at the product of my insomnia.
So far, it’s not much. An empty room that smells musty, with a shitty old blue carpet, a ceiling fan that clicks as it spins, and a half window that we should have been replaced when we renovated the rest of the house, but none of us realized it didn’t have a lock and didn’t close right.
"I’ve said it before… this isn’t going to be enough."
I grunt in response. Imogen won't care that it’s not the fanciest nest in town. If she cared about shit like that, she wouldn’t have shared her heat with us. She wouldn’t have come home with Cass, she wouldn’t be dancing at our club.
She wouldn’t feel like she could be ours, like we fit together, like she's pack.
They don’t give her enough credit.
I haven’t slept more than a few hours since she left us. At first, when I found out she was engaged, I was pissed, and, honestly, hurt. But then I got my head out of my ass and realized, if that was it, if we were just going to give up on her that easily, then we must not have wanted her that badly—and we didn’t deserve her.
We’ve never wanted an omega. I’ve never wanted an omega. I watched my fathers use and abuse my mother in our shitty backwoods pack my entire childhood. I watched on as she listened to the shit they spewed her way, took the beatings and random demands for sex, accepted her lot in life as a submissive omega surrounded by domineering, violent alphas. When I was finally old and strong enough to help her fight back, she refused it.
I never understood why. Even when she insisted it was just the way packs worked, that I didn’t respect the dynamics of our designations, that as an omega, she knew she’d always have to bow down, I couldn't understand why she wouldn't just fight back.
When I met my brothers, we opened a safe haven under the guise of a strip club, and I met other omegas, I figured my mother was wrong. My parents were all wrong. They were rotten, and they bred that rot into me, because I felt the inexplicable urge to fight and fuck, too, just like my fathers did. But I rose above them, I did what my mother couldn't. I rose above my designation.
We, my family, were the bad ones. Other omegas had drive, they had the will to carve out their own lot in life. Submission wasn’t about letting someone bigger or stronger step on your neck—it was about redefining our roles, letting someone bigger or stronger support you when you needed it, to trust that an alpha could provide.
I’ve learned these things over the years, but I’ve been terrified of fucking up, and becoming like my fathers, letting that rot inside me manifest and destroy.
But Imogen showed me I’m not like them. I’m dominant. I’m an alpha. But I can be more than my designation, more than my gene pool, and I can be right for her. We just need her to give us a chance.
And if we don’t do something drastic, like build her a fucking nest, how could she ever think we aren’t serious about her?
Cass sighs, pacing the room, his long hair blowing back from his face, the ceiling fan stuck on high. I hoped it would help air out the dank room. It hasn’t.
"There’s not even a bathroom." He continues to add unhelpful shit like we're not already lost in a pile of it. Not the least of our problems being, we haven’t even asked her, which means she definitely hasn’t agreed to let us court her, or whatever it is real packs do. I'm usually a steel wall, but even Cass's insecurities are getting to me.
He’s right. It's not enough. It’s the largest room in the whole warehouse besides our common space downstairs, but there’s no attached bathroom, so none of us took it as our bedroom and we used it for storage instead.
"We could knock down a wall," I mutter. My and Red's rooms are on opposite sides. We’d lose a bedroom, but if we were really doing this…
Maybe we are all fucked in the head, thinking we can change her mind, to not marry those rich pricks from the Hills. Maybe this is useless, and we're delusional, assuming one heat changes everything.
I'd forgotten Red was here when he storms into the room looking wild, pieces of his straight black hair going off in different directions, crazy energy radiating off him like a tsunami. I don’t need to be in his pack to know he’s had a day.
"You find her?" Cass asks hopefully.
Red nods, opening and closing his mouth like he can't decide which words to share. We've been waiting for a status update since he insisted on talking to Imogen alone. Apparently, Cass and I were a liability or some shit.
I definitely was. Cass has been lookin’ a little shady these last few days, too. We might have tried to kidnap her or convince her to fuck in the backseat of the truck or something, then we’d be off track, not showing her we're serious about courting, and that it wasn't just about great sex. Scratch that—phenomenal sex. Life-changing, brain-altering sex.
I rub my chest, fingertips ghosting over the scratch marks from her long, sharp, red-painted fingernails digging into me while I knotted her, only now healing. They were all over me, red and bloody and needy. I've been thinking about getting a tattoo on their outline before they fade completely. The memory of her taking it so deep and hard and fast, loving every second, her demands matching my own. Rough. Raw. On the edge of too much, yet still not enough. I don't know if it's like that with every omega or if our chemistry was just that fucking raw, but I think it was us, her and me, Imogen and Dante.
"And? Where was she? Is she okay?" Cass panics, crowding Red so hard he nearly backs out of the room. Instead, Red holds his ground, lips curling up into a devious fucking smile. He pulls a thin scrap of fabric, like a ribbon, out of his pocket. "I found her. She was on a date with Stevens Pack."
Cass’s shoulders drop dejectedly, so I prod, "And that’s good news?" Since he's smiling and all.
He stands in front of me, dropping the blue ribbon into my hands. His grin doesn’t waver. I take the material, getting irritated with my brother for not answering a straight fucking question when a hint of cherries hits my nose.
Now, I fucking love cherries. Cherry pie is my all-time favorite thing to eat on the goddamn planet. Ophelia’s housekeeper, Greta—words I never thought I’d say—makes a killer cherry pie, and Phe steals it from her boys and brings it over every couple of weeks. I eat it almost daily at May's Diner. I could live on that shit.
But this cherry scent? I bring the fabric closer, breathing it in, practically inhaling every particle, every fiber. It's layered. Sweet, like maraschinos, with warm undertones, like black and amarenas. Warm, sexy, tasty as fuck.
My voice is gravel, the words heavy and stuck in my throat. "What… what is this?"
My alpha knows what it is. It sits there in the forefront of my mind, the obvious reason why my alpha was so sure Imogen was the one.
Cass rips the ribbon out of my hands. I don’t watch his reaction, burying my head in my hands, almost dizzy with the realization.
"Holy shit," Cass rasps. "Is this…? Is that Imogen’s?"
I peek through my fingers after scratching them over the shaved sides of my head, afraid to look at Red and discover I'm way off. But no, it couldn't be anyone but her.
Because that motherfucker’s still smiling. "It’s Imogen’s."
"And she’s…?" Cass shakes his head back and forth, at a loss for words as much as me.
"Ours. She’s our scent-match." Red takes a big step forward and snatches the ribbon from Cass’s hand, inhaling like he could breathe all of her in, just from this tiny scrap of fabric.
"I can’t believe this." Cass laughs, looking up toward the ceiling. "A fucking scent-match! This makes so much sense. God, all of it, her nesting with our jackets and shit, the way my alpha… wait. Wait. She’s on a fucking date right now?"
Red's grin stays in place. "Yup."
"And you just left her there? Why is she still with them? Why the fuck didn’t you bring her home?"
Red holds his hand up, counting off on his fingers. "Yup. Dunno. What was I gonna do, throw her over my shoulder and kidnap her?"
I shift uncomfortably, since the thought crossed my mind and the reason Red was delegated to talk to her without Cass or me.
"I mean… no, but come on. We're her scent-match, and she’s still going on dates with the mayor's pack, so I assume she’s still engaged? What the fuck am I supposed to do with that? We can’t compete with them."
Walking toward the one window in the room, the wall blank and scuffed and stained, Cass leans against it, highlighting how shit this future nest is.
At least Red's still grinning. "Don’t worry so much, bro, we’ll figure it out. I left her there because she asked me to. And she tried to tell us the other day but were too dense to fucking listen, that she isn’t marrying them. I don’t know what the deal is. Honestly, something sketchy is going on. But she promised she’d explain everything."
That perks Cass up. "When?"
"Tonight. Hopefully, she’ll come over after dinner."
"After her dinner date, you mean. With the mayor. Her fiancé."
"Bro, if you can’t stop being such a Negative Nancy, maybe go do some push-ups or something, clear out this aggro shit out before she gets here."
I snort a laugh, then haul my ass up to a stand. My brothers watch me warily while I exit the room and run down the stairs, through the common room, down the side door off the kitchen, and into the garage below. Grabbing a mallet, sledgehammer, and a few other things I can carry off the tool bench, I run back up the stairs.
The guys are still arguing, but now it’s about what to do when Imogen gets here, Cass worrying he needs to change his shirt or some shit. It’s funny.
Their argument turns into whether she might need a second dinner or if someone should go buy her a dessert or get snacks and groceries since our fridge is always empty, and then they realize the kitchen is a mess and someone needs to go clean up. I let them argue, running my hand along the far wall, tapping the sheet rock every few inches, the sledgehammer dragging on the floor with each step.
Red grinds out, "Bro, you need to chill out. She said she’s coming, so she’s coming."
"I don’t even have her phone number. What if she needs a ride or gets lost? I only drove her here that one time. I need to call Ophelia and get her number—"
Thwack. The sledgehammer plows through the wall in a satisfying crunch, just between the studs, the feeling of the hammer hitting the wall vibrating through my fingers. My brothers stop arguing, but I pick up the hammer and nail it again, this time snagging on a piece of the wall, and I tug, ripping a huge chunk of sheet rock back toward me.
Red clears his throat. "So, Iggy… wanna share with the class?"
They both come closer and stare at the hole peeking into my bedroom.
"She's my mate. I don’t need a bedroom, so we can make the nest bigger. Plus, now she has a bathroom." I turn to face the guys, "I forget, do omegas want light in their nest or no? I’d sleep better without windows…"
"If she lets you into her nest, psycho. You just ripped a hole in your bedroom wall. What if she doesn’t like this room? She might not be into sharing a sleeping space with you. Or us. We're making a lot of assumptions based on that piece of fucking ribbon." Cass paces, his long hair swaying the more agitated he gets. "What if she doesn’t like this building?" Or us, is what he wants to say.
"Then we’ll move," Red grinds out.
I look at both my brothers. "I can’t believe I’m the one saying this, but you guys need to get your shit together."
Then I pick up the hammer and smash it into the wall.
I don’t know if they took my advice, but the room quiets around me while I work, only the sounds of demolition echoing through the now-empty space.
Pulling down the wall on the nest side doesn't take much effort, leaving me enough time to shower and clean the dust off me before Imogen gets here. By the time I make it downstairs, the kitchen is less of a mess, Cass has on a different shirt, and Red's earlier confident grin is missing.
I sit at the kitchen table, letting my brothers pace around me. Their anxiousness fills the room, and though I'm not taking it on, it's making me tired. The lack of quality sleep over the last few weeks is definitely weighing on me. Their nervous energy spikes when Red gets a text from Imogen that she's downstairs.
He disappears out the kitchen door like a speed demon, Cass still pacing the room, and I stay seated in the chair, waiting to face my fate.
Her scent hits me first. And it's even better in person. It's strong, like a current, and as she steps into the kitchen, it floods, permeating every crevice around us. She clasps her hands in front of her, gently folded, a small smile on her face.
Cass and I stare like idiots while she greets us like a dignitary. Fuck that. I'm out of the chair after seconds of silence, and she sees me coming, her soft, quiet smile dropping away, blue eyes widening, and even though she takes a step back, her hand reaches out for me.
My hand snakes around her waist and she giggles, the sound so uninhibited considering how controlled she's acting, and I'm gone. Her back hits the door, eyes heavy with desire, and her cherry perfume blooms around us, making my mouth water, my teeth sharpen.
The need to bite her is tenfold from the last time I tried, and though I felt a lot of shame coming out of that fog of rut, it's nowhere to be found while I contemplate which part of her beautiful neck I'll mark her for life.
My teeth scrape against her flesh, and Red growls in warning. Unfortunately, Imogen presses her pelvis against mine and whimpers, and I don't hear Red or Cass. Imogen's knee comes to the outside of my hip, opening herself up. I grip her, and we're lost in scent and pheromones, need for each other, need from the call of our baser instincts. The last week without her disappears.
"Iggy," Imogen cries, her voice light and desperate, when I press my hardened erection against her core. She loves my piercings, but she was in heat and might not remember she loves them. I can't wait to remind her.
I'm about to do just that, a growl tearing from my throat as my teeth scrape her flesh, when Red and Cass grip both my shoulders, pulling me away from her. Imogen's eyes clear from the heat we built, and she's panting, slightly bent at the waist, catching her breath.
Mate. Knot. Bite. My teeth ache to bite, and I lunge for her again, but my brothers hold me back. "Iggy! Snap the fuck out of it!" Mate. Knot. Bite. My alpha chants these words, and it's all I can think about when a sharp crack across my cheek clears the fog, then Cass's t-shirt is shoved into my face. His clean cotton scent dulls the sweet bliss of the cherries, and suddenly, I can think clearly.
I have to force myself to meet Imogen's eyes. I expect disgust. Fear.
She's grinning. A real grin, with a real smile. Uninhibited. Breathtaking.
I shake my head, looking down at the ground. "I'm sorry, Im. That's the second time I tried to… mark you. Without permission. I'm very fucking sorry."
She doesn't respond right away, and I'm surprised when she steps closer, taking my hand. The warmth she offers is better than I deserve. Dragging me to the table, she pushes me into a seat and takes the one beside me.
"Second time?" She asks, one eyebrow lifted, and her lovely voice, so delicate and sweet, feels like another thing we don't deserve. To hear her lyrical tones, to feel her softness, her kindness.
"I, uh…" I clear my throat but feel so much shame, embarrassment. I'm just like my fathers. Forcing a submissive without permission.
Red holds up his arm, downgraded from gauze to a simple Band-Aid. "He tried to mark you during your heat, but we stopped him." Then he looks at me, "You didn't do it, brother."
He's making light of it, but it's not a light thing. I deserve the self-flagellation or whatever comes later when I replay this when I can't sleep and I'm staring at the ceiling thinking about my fathers and how shit I am. I'm usually in so much fucking control I don't know what the fuck is wrong with my alpha. He can't control himself around her. Could I have stopped myself? I honestly don't know. Truthfully, I still want to bite her. She just smells so good.
"I did, though. I bit her, your arm just got in the way."
"Have you tried to mark an omega before?" Imogen asks, a small wrinkle forming in her brow.
"Never," I swear to her.
She nods. "If you'd asked, I'd have said yes and meant it. But I'm glad you didn't. Things are complicated right now, and if you mark me, I'll scent as bonded and…" She presses her lips together.
It's not forgiveness, but she's being kind about my almost monumental fuck-up and, again… I don't deserve it.
Without letting me dwell, Cass and Red join us at the table, and though she's still facing me, she says to the three of us, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you the truth before my heat. I wasn't sure you'd believe me after hearing how you felt about omegas." She pauses, pressing her lips together, her hand clutching the diamond necklace draped across her collarbone.
Only then do I notice how different she looks. Her dress, her jewelry, even her makeup. It's like a costume. It's all so clean and prim and proper, ill-fitting, almost like it was made for another person. She shifts uncomfortably, and Cass reaches out across the table, taking her hand.
She turns to face him. He's still shirtless, elbows on the table, giving her his rapt attention. Tears well in her eyes. "All I've ever wanted was a scent-match. I don't know how we ended up…" She clears her throat, a tear spilling down her cheek.
"Imogen…" Red prompts, head tilted patiently. "What is it?"
"I know I'm not what you all expected. I know I'm not like the other girls here… I'm not street smart, I'm not brave or strong like Roxy or Ophelia. But I like it here. I want to be here. With you. But—"
"Hold up," I lift my hand, pausing her tirade. "You think we don't want you?"
"You've never wanted an omega," she accuses, and it's the closest I've ever heard to Imogen snapping. "You especially, Iggy. Everyone says so. I know I kind of forced Cass to take me home. But I was in heat, and your scent… It was so hard to… And then afterward, you all were so mad at me."
I snatch her hand and pull her up to a stand, debating for a split second throwing her over my shoulder, but instead, gripping her hand, I pull her through the kitchen and up the stairs, my brothers on our heels. We climb up to the third floor, down the long hallway, and I swing open the door to the nest, which looks even worse when she enters it.
I'm teetering on regret for showing her this disaster, but it's too late, so I commit. "I didn't even know you were our scent-match, and I started building you a nest."
Imogen gasps, her delicate hand coming to the base of her throat. "You did this? For me?"
Her wonder that we did something special, considering the trash state of the room, shows how kind she is. And how shit of a job we've been doing, showing her we could be good enough.
"Of fucking course, we did this for you. Imogen, you didn't force Cass to take you home. We obsessed over you for weeks. And you're right, I never wanted an omega, but they've never been you."
She looks around the room. I watch her cute, pert nose wrinkle as she takes in the scent of the musty carpet.
Cass sees it, too. He rushes, "I know it needs a lot of work. This room is… Well, it's shit. But it won't be. Imogen, we want this. We want you. I can't believe you'd think we wouldn't want you. But we want to do this right. Just bear with us while we figure it out. Please? Please give us a chance."
She spins slowly in place, taking in the empty, nasty room that needs so much work and is so fuckin' far beneath her, I have the sudden urge to pick her up and carry her out, barring her from the nest until it's worthy of her. She smiles broadly. "All I've ever wanted was you. A scent-match, yes, but you three… There's no question. Of course, I want this."
She laughs lightly, in awe, which turns into a delighted shriek when Red wraps his arms around her waist and lifts her up. She laughs, throwing her head back, and he spins her in place before sliding her down his body, setting on her high-heeled feet.
He kisses her cheek, and I wish I had that kind of restraint because her scent is bright and open and happy, and it makes me want to commemorate the occasion and rip her panties off, give her pussy a nice long lick.
She muses, "What's with you guys and holes in walls?"
Hooking my thumb toward my demolition project, I shrug, "It won't look like this soon. I promise. By the way, do omegas like light in the nest? Do you? I can't remember."
Her brow scrunches, but Red interrupts her answer, which is really annoying because I want to know if I can keep the black walls.
"So, no more engagement?" He confirms, and her smile drops, shaking her head slightly, side to side.
"Oh. I… I can't break it off yet. I'm sorry."
We all stiffen. My alpha rages that she's still considering another pack, but I force myself to think through the fog. Yet. That's the word she used.
Cass and Red look equally frustrated, but it's nothing like Imogen. Fear and something like nausea paint her face, her scent turning slightly sour. I reach out, and she takes my hand, and I give it a squeeze, attempting to reassure her.
Tentatively, we all head down to the living room to talk about our fated mate's engagement to another pack.