Chapter Eighteen
Trick
The curtain parts and the brighter light from the hallway casts rays into the room. When Isabelle comes through, it’s like the heavens have opened and sent a divine being.
The royal-blue dress flutters around her legs and cinches in at the waist, then molds around her breasts in a way that makes my mouth water. Long, alluring waves beg for my hands to wrench her head back and kiss her. Pouty lips and smoldering eyes demand my undivided attention.
And then her scent hits me.
It’s a tidal wave of spicy-sweet radiance. I know the guys are affected by it too. The bonds might be new, but they’re anything but weak. The strength of their grief, joy, and desire bleed into my senses. They insist they don’t get much through the connection, but maybe that’s because the pack is incomplete without our omega.
Without Izzy.
The woman in question startles when she enters the room. She steps back and nearly knocks herself and her best friend over. Jolie catches her and keeps them both upright. Her hands on my omega prevent Izzy from running.
Which she clearly wants to do.
Wide eyes search the room and her muscles tense under the thin fabric. The rise and fall of her chests accelerates and I worry she’ll have a panic attack.
I quickly stand and lean forward on the balls of my feet. I’m not going to chase after her if she runs, but...
“Isabelle, please sit.”
I motion to the chair on the other side of the curved table. It’s meant for tasting menus from the chef so that all eight chairs can face slightly inward like a stage.
Instead of a chef, a single chair awaits.
Jolie and Izzy exchange hushed words, and Izzy shakes her head. She’s still giving resistance to Jolie and trying to politely shove them toward the door.
Jolie won’t let that happen, though.
Vin was right on the money when he said we should search for our omega’s best friend. Jolie had never been to the house. We heard a lot about her, but Izzy always kept her away.
It took two days to find them, and even then it mostly amounted to driving to Izzy’s parents’ house and sleeping in the car—blocking their garage door—until they gave us a location.
Since then, it’s been a daily task to check in with Bennett and then again with Jolie, so they know the progress we’ve been making to bring our girl home.
“Please,” I say again, and my voice cracks slightly.
Some alpha.
I hate seeing her scared.
“We’re only here to talk,” Vin says.
“If you really don’t want to be here, you can go, but I hope you stay,” Mason adds.
Jolie and Izzy exchange more soft words and Jolie turns to address us.
“She wants me to stay.”
“That’s fine,” I reply.
Izzy pivots timidly toward us. As she inhales, the effect of our scents plays prominently on her features. Her pupils dilate to the deepest black and her skin flushes. Nipples peak through the dress, and my optimism soars.
I knew we’d be a scent match. If we were drawn to her despite the suppressants, then the demand would be fucking strong without them.
I’m barely keeping it together.
I need to touch her. To hold her. To kiss her.
To give her everything she ever wants and more.
Alpha instincts scream to scoop her up and make her mine here, now, immediately.
The guys’ internal demands for the same don’t help. I have to keep it together for all of us, but I don’t know if I can.
Jolie waits by the door while Izzy tentatively comes forward and sits in the chair. She smooths her dress over her knees with shaking hands.
“If it’s really that bad, we can do this another time,” I say soothingly.
“No, it was just a lot. I wasn’t expecting to see you, and then your scents are so strong, and you’re here looking at me, and I’m going to shut up now.”
Mason smirks in the corner of my eye. He tilts his head.
“I haven’t heard your voice in more than three long weeks. Don’t stop now,” he says.
“That was remarkably tame,” she replies.
“I’m on my best behavior.”
“Which is still atrocious.” She gives a small smile.
“Only with you, my sexy bunny. I’m powerless in the presence of the lust of my life.”
The smile broadens then, and it confirms that we were meant to do this.
Clearing my throat, I nudge the stack of papers on her side of the table forward. Her eyebrows tent, but she leans forward to take them.
“Wyatt Pack is making a formal request to court Omega Isabelle Sutton.”
Her eyes go wide, but she doesn’t interrupt me as I read the long list of cautions, caveats, and warnings the Admin requires when making these types of formalized requests.
When I reach the end, her thumb rubs over the page.
“It’s signed by Patrick Wyatt, lead alpha of the Wyatt Pack.”
“It is.”
“You completed the bonds.”
“We did,” Vin says, and the pride shines through in his tone.
“I see,” she says, but there’s a discordant note in the reaction.
I continue going through the paperwork we’ve presented her with.
Formal recognition of our pack status.
Background checks, medical screenings, and financial histories, which I summarized rather than making her suffer through me reading it aloud.
And then, the application to court exclusively. It needs to be signed by both the pack and the omega. My signature is already at the bottom.
Izzy is ours.
She always has been, and she always will be.
She listens patiently while I go through the motions. This is my second time in the process, but the first time I’ve truly cared.
Virginia, my first omega, was a close friend. A lover eventually. She was in love with my lead alpha and was someone I cared about, but not someone I craved.
Every muscle, bone, and drop of blood in me begs and demands to make Izzy ours.
Hell, I might be having a panic attack.
When I’m done, she nods and awkwardly leans forward to set the stack of papers back on the table.
Her eyes are downcast and she shudders.
“What do you think, Izzy? Will you sign the papers?”
It’s cold, but this is what the Admin demands. I don’t want there to be any question that Izzy is ours.
The next words from her drop the floor out from under me, though.
“No, thank you.”
No . . . thank you?
The words run circles in my brain while I attempt to accept what she’s saying.
I know she wants this. Jolie told us she’s sleeping with our shirts. We even gave her new ones with fresh scents on them.
The chair skitters as I fall into it. I search the papers, desperate to figure out why she would say no.
Maybe it was a ruse all along. None of it meant anything to her. We’ve simply built it up in our minds.
“Can you say why?” Vin asks. “I know I’m not supposed to ask, but fuck it. Why not, Izzy?”
“Vin,” I scold, but he’s not the least bit contrite.
And maybe I want to know too.
She looks up at the ceiling and fights the tears in her eyes.
“Look,” she says. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I don’t need you to save me again. I’m fine.”
“What we’re trying to do,” Vin repeats.
“Yeah.”
“And what is it you think we’re trying to do?”
Her face flushes. “You’re really going to make me say it?”
“I’d like to hear this as well,” Mason adds, and I cover my face with my hand.
“Carry on the ruse. I know you think the exclusivity agreement will keep me from the omega meat market, but it won’t. Apparently, I have a lot of interest.”
She sneers those last few words, and I finally understand what she means.
The truth in her words injects a myriad of emotions into my veins, but the ultimate point resonates loudest.
“You think we’re covering for you again.”
“I know you, Trick. You feel guilty about what happened. You’re trying to swoop in and give me a reprieve. It’s kind, but I can’t handle that, and the Admin will never go for it anyway.”
“You can’t handle it,” I say.
“No. Thank you, but I politely decline.”
She picks at blue nails and refuses to meet my gaze.
“We’ve asked you to be our omega because our pack is not complete without you, Isabelle.”
“Ah. You’re also hiding from the Admin. The answer is the same. You’ll have to find another omega to play house with.”
“Izzy, listen to them,” Jolie says in a hushed tone.
“No, Jolie, I’m doing what’s right for me.”
Izzy stands then. She squares her shoulders and lifts her chin.
“Request denied, Wyatt Pack. I’m not going to hold you back from finding your perfect omega. Thank you for the kindness you’ve shown me. Allow me to return the favor.”
A single tear falls down her cheek, but she pivots on her high heels and streams out of the room.
* * *
Izzy
Chunky Monkey solidifies on my shirt. The carton split at the top and melted ice cream leaked out.
Jolie’s asleep on the couch beside me, but my mind won’t settle. It hasn’t settled in the three hours since my guys barreled back into my life and sucker punched me with cold bureaucracy.
They were so convincing at first. Seeing them there, dressed like gorgeous hockey gods, their live scents filling my nose and their eyes on me the greatest aphrodisiac, and I was ready to strip naked and beg right then and there.
And then Trick started talking about paperwork.
It was all so clinical and devoid of inflection. I understand why they did it, I even appreciate it, but I can’t handle more time as their not-girlfriend.
My heart will be torn to shreds again, and I’ve been working really hard to sew it back together.
The rom-com plays out on the screen, and Jolie snorts once and settles back into sleep.
Wyatt Pack is making a formal request to court Omega Isabelle Sutton.
The vision of Trick reading the words has branded on my brain.
I didn’t even get a hello. No recognition of the time apart. Straight into the business.
The Admin is a stickler for these types of things. They want to avoid any appearance of impropriety or lack of consent. It’s part of how they sell it to the families of young omegas.
I’ve never envisioned what it would be like receiving a stack of documents as a courting proposal, but it can’t possibly be like that every time.
I suppose most omegas don’t know their packs terribly well, so maybe it’s less awkward.
The credits roll, but still I sit here with my sticky shirt and skin.
My reminder alarm goes off, and I shoot a message to my case supervisor. After my levels spiked at the meeting, I had to promise to check in hourly to avoid more invasive intervention.
The Admin is watching.
If I get into my nest, it’ll smell like them, and then I’m going to lose it for real. I’ll probably end up committed anyway.
My burner beeps, and I check my notifications to find PuckFunny’s replying to something I said again.
Jolie’s clearly asleep next to me. My bullshit meter sucks. I really thought she was catfishing me. Maybe I’ve miraculously found a friend on the internet. Stranger things have happened.
Perhaps this is what I need. A little good humor to settle my mind so I can sleep on this awful, uncomfortable couch.
The notification isn’t for a reply though. The account has sent me a DM.
Not a fucking chance. Fear and anxiety explode in my chest.
Immediately, I sight the go-bag by the front door with cash and Jolie’s spare key. The message suggests they’ve found me, which means it’s time to run.
The response is immediate though.
The account attaches a link to a post Vin made earlier today. He’s burning his hand as he takes my amaretto chocolate chip cookies out of the oven.
Catfishing as Vin is a bridge too far. There’s only one reply I can make.
The reply flashes through seconds later. It’s yet another post, this one just uploaded, of Vin outside Jolie’s apartment. He’s alone, but also it very clearly shows his location.
It’s more difficult than I was expecting to extract myself from the couch without rousing my bestie.
It takes longer than I thought it would for me to stress over what to wear and how to fix my hair. I’ve cried my makeup off already.
Another message chimes through, but this time it’s my case supervisor confirming my check-in and asking if I’m okay.
She’s a perfectly nice, well-meaning person. Her name is... Marsha? No, Marta. It’s definitely Marta. Given what I’m about to walk into, I message her that I’m feeling pretty down but to please let me handle it on my own.
My therapist says I need to learn coping mechanisms.
That convinces her. She replies that she expects a check-in in 30 minutes instead of an hour, but she’ll allow it.
I hate this shit.
Some random person shouldn’t have control over what I’m allowed to feel and when, and suddenly I appreciate all the more why my parents have reacted the way they have throughout my life.
Won’t ever tell them that.
My skin is clammy and I’m wearing Jolie’s spare pajamas, but it’s the best I can do with 30 seconds of notice.
The energy in my system from the shock of the message dies on the two flights of stairs down to the parking lot. I repeat reminders to myself, again and again like a mantra, to keep it together and not let him convince me to participate in their plans.
My heart can’t take it.
When I exit the glass double doors, Vin’s there waiting for me.
Mason’s standing beside him.
Fuck.
I can’t handle—
Large arms sweep me up and spin me around.
Trick’s wide palm cups my jaw.
His eyes skim over me, the agony there plain.
His mouth falls on mine and the kiss is insistent and mournful.
Surprise makes me freeze and he pauses, but if I’m already kissing the man, I may as well indulge.
I part my lips and press back, inviting him in and giving permission.
The kiss is soulful and so full of longing.
It’s like he’s been waiting eons and is finally able to do what he wants.
Trick kisses me like a prayer for absolution.
His scent flares, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. My skin tingles and my slick becomes uncomfortable.
“Fuck, Izzy,” he groans against my lips.
Vin and Mason crowd me in, but it only makes me tingle more.
“Calm down, omega,” Mason says.
“What?”
“You’re perfuming,” Trick informs me. “It’s driving us all fucking insane. If you don’t stop, I’m going to bend you over in this parking lot and fuck my knot into you.”
Shivers wrack my body at his crass words. This is so unlike Trick. He doesn’t lose control.
“Why are you here?” I ask, my voice thready.
“I fucked up. I did it the way the Admin tells us, but I should’ve done it our way first.”
My mind clouds from their presence. Being surrounded by them overwhelms all of my good sense.
Mason marches away and takes several breaths of fresh oxygen. He braids his hands together on top of his head.
“He okay?” I ask.
“He’s about half an inch from going into a rut,” Trick informs me.
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh,” Vin says with a snicker.
I clear my throat, to purge my mind of the fog and my throat of the frog taking residence, and ask my question more forcefully.
“Why are you here?”
“We need to make right what happened earlier. You got the wrong impression, and that’s on us and not you. We were following the protocols and should’ve recognized that was a bad idea.”
“Okay . . . ”
“We want to court you, Izzy Sutton. It’s not some scheme. We want you. You’re ours, and we’re yours. Every day of the last three weeks without you has been torture. Waking up without you in the house is traumatizing. Not seeing you in our home when I come through the door is a constant sadness. Come back. Please.”
“You’re a brand-new pack.”
“Of professional athletes who blew a huge chunk of our savings on the best pack lawyers money can buy.”
When I frown at him, he continues.
“We had them expedite our pack recognition and then petition for the right to pursue an omega immediately. Submitted to the evaluations, med exams, and financial reviews. Add to it that our omega has hidden from the Admin for years, was on suppressants, and hasn’t cleared the mental health screen yet, and I’m pretty sure we’ve bought all of our lawyers Caribbean vacation homes.”
Fucking therabitch.
“Worth every penny,” Vin murmurs.
“That’s a lot of work.”
“We’d do that and more for you,” Mason says, still keeping his distance. “Anything it takes. If you ask us to get your name on the stadium as penance, we’d find a way to make it work.”
The thing is, I believe it from Vin and Mason.
It’s the man in front of me that’s concerning.
I examine him under the moonlight. Bags are exaggerated by shadows. He’s a little too pale and a little too gaunt.
“How are you managing the bonds?” I ask.
“They’re incomplete. They feel incomplete without you, Isabelle.”
My heart soars. I wanted to believe them so badly, and now I do. Standing under the dim light, with their scents around me and the formality of earlier evaporated, I can take everything in and let my senses attune to it.
Mason’s nervous as all hell. He’s antsy and on edge, and it’s not simply from a rut.
Vin’s uncharacteristically quiet. He normally defers to Trick, but I think he knows what has to happen.
I needed to hear it from Trick. I need to know what he thinks and feels about me.
“You’ve got to earn it,” I say softly.
“Name it and it’s yours,” Mason immediately insists.
Trick scrutinizes me, that attentive gaze reading my expression as clearly as if it were his own.
“That’s not what she means,” Trick says. “We’re going to court you, Izzy. I have a lot of explaining to do and a lot to make up for. We all do. We’ll prove to you this is what we want. No lies. No games. Just us.”
I want to believe him.
Every cell in my body screams to agree.
“Okay, I’m willing to try,” I tell them.
* * *
If I’d been told over the summer that I’d be with a pack by the holidays, I’d have laughed until I passed out from oxygen deprivation.
Yet here I am, anxiously waiting in the omega’s entrance to the Addevale Grand Theater.
I’ve already taken a few pics of the building for each of the guys’ accounts. I’ve resumed managing their online presences, in exchange for the going rate of course, and places like the theater show how well-rounded they are.
The soft carpet of the little room at the back of the building is gentle on my feet in sky-high heels. Muted colors and lighting are calming. It contrasts sharply from my brilliant blue dress wrapped in a silver sash like a present.
Last night it was a hilarious ballroom dance class. The day before it was ax throwing.
In the span of only a month, we’ve engaged in every date idea that exists. When they’ve had days off, we’ve spent it just wandering around. We’ve perfected staying just long enough before someone rats us out to the gossips and paparazzi and we have to run for it.
It’s done wonders for the avalanche of endorsement requests and local sponsorships, now that the Wyatt Pack is officially declared.
They’ve found little ways to personalize it for me. Sometimes it’s an off-handed comment I made once. Sometimes they simply want to share a new experience. I go to every home game, but I watch from the box now. No one bothers me.
And every day, often multiple times a day, they each message me to check in and share their lives. I can’t stay in their house, and it’s like having a view into the outside world while I’m stuck in Jolie’s living room.
When they first started courting me, I assumed things would calm down after a few days. The newness would wear off.
It hasn’t. My guys are attentive and generous. I’ve never known anything like this before. The focus scared me at first, but I’ve settled into it.
They want me for me.
Tonight, they’ve taken me to a musical about star-crossed lovers. He’s in a pack and she’s the long-lost best friend of his alpha who broke his heart. It’s supposed to make us both laugh and cry.
I’d rather they unwrap me instead.
It’s been a very long, very frustrating month, but I’ve refused to fall back into bed with them.
First, because we needed the Admin to not yank our courtship approval. That fucking chip on my arm was the bane of my existence.
But also, I needed to be sure this had a foundation. Brad’s taught me one thing—I’m not rushing into any irreversible decisions.
That is, admittedly, counterintuitive to my goals for the evening.
See, the Admin has finally cleared me. The therabitch signed off on my “fitness” today. The chip is gone.
I am free of suspicion.
Which means that they’re going to start matching me. I’m surprised they haven’t done it yet.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure Wyatt Pack’s fancy lawyers are very good, but I don’t trust the Admin with my future.
Better to ask for forgiveness than permission.
“Hmmm, my sexy bunny, you’re good enough to eat,” Mason says behind me.
Before I can whirl around, his arms encircle me and he pecks sweet kisses along my shoulder.
I grind my ass against him and offer my neck.
“Oh so tempting, aren’t you, omega,” he murmurs against my skin. “How are you feeling after your session? If you’re sad, my shoulders are free for you to rest your thighs on.”
I bump him with my backside, but he dodges and chuckles in my ear.
“Where are the guys?” I ask.
“Trick’s dealing with parking, and Vin’s getting us wine.”
“Hmmm, good,” I purr and turn in his arms. “I’m recruiting you.”
“I’m in.”
“You don’t know what it is.”
“Don’t need to. If you’re involved, then I’m game.”
“This is why I asked you first.”
“Does it involve the bandage on your arm?”
“Hell yeah it does.”
“There’s a bathroom with a lock on the second floor.”
“I’m not... Did you research hookup locations before coming here?”
“Damn right I did,” he says, and the heat in his tone sends my heart racing. “I want privacy when making you swallow my cock. That sight is for the pack alone.”
Chuckling, I say, “You’re too easy to please.”
“Only when it comes to you.”
“Then... ” I suck in a breath of courage and say the thing I know needs to happen. “I want you to bite me. Tonight.”
His breathing speeds and his focus is so pointed, it makes me doubt myself.
“You can’t offer things like that and not mean it,” he says.
“I mean it.”
“Fuck. Me. Yes. A thousand percent.”
“Just like that? No debate?”
“I’ve been ready to bond with you since the moment you wrote your number on my neck.”
I shove his shoulder, but considering he’s latched onto me, it barely makes a difference.
“I’m serious,” he adds. “I can prove it to you. Get my phone out of my jacket pocket.”
The device is easy to find and extract, but I add that, “You could do this yourself.”
“Ah, but then I’d have to let you go and I’m going to take a pass on that. Hold it up to my face.”
The phone registers his facial features and winks open. I figured out what he saved my number as months ago, but I’m prepared to play along and giggle for his enjoyment.
His thirsty ass also still has mine as his home screen.
“LOML,” I read aloud to confirm. “Lust of my life.”
“No, bunny. Love of my life.”
My fingers tighten on the little device.
Blood rushes to my face and I hug the phone to my chest.
“I was gone for you the first time you touched me,” he adds.
Tears well up in my eyes and I fight them back. I don’t want to ruin my makeup or the moment by blubbering.
“Think we can convince the others?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“Just like that?”
“Yes.”
“We’re doing this unsanctioned.”
“Yup.”
“And you’re fine with that?”
“Absolutely.”
“Even Trick?”
“Especially Trick.”
“Just tell me already.”
“Our pricey lawyers are no match for bureaucracy. The Admin rejected our request for an exclusive courtship. Apparently, a lot of people are interested in you, Izzy. None of them are allowed to touch what’s ours.
“In the broader pool, even with our history together, the lawyers think it’s unlikely they’ll approve the match at all. We’ve been unofficially recommended to take matters into our own hands. The more uncontrolled and impulsive it is, the better.”
The phantom pain from the chip on my arm itches. It’s only been gone for five hours and already I’m jumping off a metaphorical cliff.
They should never have trusted me.
“When did this news happen?” I ask.
“This afternoon.”
“And when were you going to tell me?”
“About the same time we ask you to bond with us. We thought we’d need to soften you up with some teasing in the theater box, but clearly that isn’t necessary.”
Vin and Trick come through the door to the theater together. They’re smiling and talking, and each have wine glasses in hand for themselves and us.
Mason and I both grin like idiots at them.
“What?” Trick asks.
“We’re going home,” I tell them.
“But the show—” Vin starts.
“We’re going home. Now,” Mason demands.