CHAPTER 10
AMOS
“My name is Windy with an I.” Her voice is low and seductive, like melted chocolate on a hot summer day. It’s tasty, and I yearn for more.
“I’m Wolf,” says Wolf. “And this is Amos and Finian.” He gestures to me and then to Finian. Both Wolf and Finian are holding onto the table for dear life. It’s me who is peering up at the angel in front of us, like the entire sun rises and sets on her beautiful smile.
My eyes slowly trail down her body, pausing on her breasts, the flare of his hips, and her midsection.
She looks absolutely perfect. She’s short, much shorter than our towering height.
Her body isn’t petite, which is how we usually love our omegas.
No, there’s some meat on this omega’s bones, and I’m salivating to run my tongue all over the contours of her body.
Her figure is lush and feminine, every curve intentional, every line warm and inviting.
My eyes catch on her chest once more. Her breasts are full and supple, giving her silhouette a softness that contrasts beautifully with the sharpness of her keen gaze.
But it’s her eyes that make me stop in my tracks.
They’re a bright emerald green. They’re bright, vivid, and expressive, like they’re lit from within.
They stand out more against her alabaster skin, which appears porcelainlike and smooth.
Her complexion looks luminous under this lighting.
And her hair. My fucking god, her hair.
Her long, luxurious, dark red locks spill over her shoulders in heavy, silken waves.
When she turns her head to look at each of us in turn, each strand catches the light and reminds me of deep wine, shifting between shadowy burgundy and a rich, smoldering crimson.
It stops about mid-back, lying in layers that complement her stature and face.
Most men are a tits and ass man, but I’m a tits and hair man.
Just the sight of long locks lying flush against a woman’s skin, hiding her breasts from view, is a sight that gets me harder than anything in my life.
However, I don’t allow my emotions to show on my face.
I’m blank; a clean slate. It’s easy that way.
I’d rather eat crow than show any type of emotion.
I don’t want someone to know when I’m weak and vulnerable.
I don’t want people to know what I’m thinking or feeling.
It’s better that way because then I can take the time to study them as they try to study me.
Her eyes catch mine, and I barely withhold the growl threatening to rumble in my chest. Her tiny nostrils flare as she takes in my scent, and her irises blow wide with want.
“You smell like cedar and a bonfire.” Her angelic voice nearly whispers the words in awe, but I hear them all the same.
“I’ve never heard my scent described as that before,” I retort, smirking, even though I’m trying my best not to come out of my seat and take her ass to the floor.
“I like it.” She looks down and to the left, a cute little blush stealing across her cheeks.
My fucking god. I want her something awful. I inhale deeply and take in her scent, nearly releasing a moan. “You smell like ... hmm, what is that? I know I’ve smelled it before, but I can’t remember ...”
It’s then it comes to me at the same time she says, “Cotton candy.”
The moment she says that, my childhood comes back to me in flashes.
Being at the fair, walking around, and eating cotton candy right out of the bag.
I knew it wasn’t good for me, but I couldn’t help it.
I’ve always been a sucker for cotton candy, especially the blue raspberry flavor.
Any time I’m anywhere near a carnival or anything remotely sugary, I have to have cotton candy if it’s offered.
“I knew I smelled it before. It’s delicious,” I say, loving it as her blush gets deeper. “Please, have a seat.”
I gesture toward the booth. She slides in as Wolf scoots closer to me to make room for her.
We’re all quiet as the waiter steps up to the table to take our drink order.
Wolf orders one of those pretentious bottles of wine that costs a fortune.
Gag. I don’t even know the name of it, but it’s one of those French-sounding names.
But none of that breaks through the spell this Windy has me under.
I can already tell this is the woman for me.
I don’t know about the other two, but she’s it.
Her scent calls to me in a way that no other omega’s scent has before.
It’s as if ... Well, she smells like home to me.
It’s soft, feminine, and comforting in a way that makes me feel safe.
She glances over the table at Finian. My gaze follows hers, and I barely refrain from rolling my eyes when I spot Finian looking like a kicked puppy because she’s not paying him any attention.
I kick him under the table. When he looks at me, I cock a brow and give him an unimpressed look.
He grumbles under his breath and takes a drink of his water to cover up his hatred of being ignored.
“Finian, right?” she asks, giving him a small smile.
He nods, and I can tell he’s pleased that she’s showing him attention by the small smile lighting his features.
This woman has no idea how much of an attention whore Finian is.
Yes, he’s the glue that holds us together, but there are parts of him that even Wolf and I don’t know about.
Sometimes, it’s like he’s barely holding himself together, even when he’s the one who holds us together.
“Yes. Windy with an I, right?”
She giggles. “Just Windy, but yes.”
Clearing his throat, Wolf manages to let go of the table and lean back in his seat. “So, what is it you do for work?”
I watch, astonished, as her face closes off.
It’s not sudden; it’s barely noticeable.
Her eyes dim. Her body stiffens as she leans back against the booth seat.
The smile is barely there on her face, and the only reason I believe that smile is still there is because she wants to be presentable and appear as if she’s open, even though that’s furthest from the truth.
“I work in the city.” That’s a cop out if I’ve ever heard of one. I’m not one to press, though. Neither are the guys. They won’t make her talk about it unless she wants to, and it looks like she doesn’t.
“Next,” I say, watching as she gives me a small, thankful smile. “What do you do for fun?”
Her entire body deflates, like all the tension just melts right out of her. “I read books. I don’t get much downtime, but when I do, I love to read.”
“What do you like to read?” Wolf asks, intrigued.
She giggles uncomfortably while picking up her menu. “Romance novels.”
“So, a lover of romance, eh?” I give her a playful grin, even though I’m not feeling very playful right now.
I want to fuck.
Hard.
I want her to succumb to everything I want to do to her.
Then, when we’re in the throes of passion, I want her to beg for me to knot that pretty pussy of hers so she can milk my cock dry.
Just the thought of her wrapped around me has me hardening in my slacks.
It’s a good thing this table is in the way because I’d be in trouble otherwise.
“Yes,” she says wistfully. “I love anything romantic. The meet-cute, the roller-coaster of a relationship, and finally the climax of the story. Those are the best parts.”
The only thing my mind focuses on is her saying the word climax.
I’d like to climax with her. Over and over and over again.
I quickly look between Finian and Wolf, finding them doing the same, as if we’re all in unspoken agreement.
If we have it our way, this lovely little omega will be in our bed before the night is over.
We’ll feed her, fuck her, and then hopefully mark her up good.
She seems like the perfect little omega who will fulfill the stipulations of Wolf’s inheritance.
“How do you feel about children?” I ask, cutting to the chase.
Her eyes light up, and I instantly know we have a winner. “I love children. I want a house full of them.”
I give her a smile. While I don’t want a house full of them, we need to have at least one child soon, so it’s good that she wants children.
Somewhere, down deep in the recesses of my endless pit of nothingness, I feel bad for deceiving this woman. That’s exactly what we’re doing, too. We’re misleading this female under the guise that we are homebodies who want to have children.
No, we’re being forced to have a child.
It’s not that we hate children, because we don’t. It’s the fact that we’re in a place in our lives where children simply don’t fit. Wolf works long hours. I’m at the fire station more than I’m at home. Finian seems to live out of his office more often than not.
We’re simply not in the right place for any of this. If we mated and marked this omega, she’d be alone about ninety-eight percent of the time. She’d be raising the children by herself without our aid. I don’t know of a female who wants to be a single mother while being mated to her pack.
Women want it all. Mating, marking, children, love, trust, loyalty. While she’d get most of those, she won’t get them all. She’d be alone without being alone. There is no helping that.
“We want children as well.” Wolf gives her a smile, but I can see it’s not his genuine smile. This is his lethal, shark-like business smile when he’s going in for the kill.
This poor, poor omega.
She doesn’t even know what is coming.
We fall silent as the waiter brings the bottle of wine and takes our orders.
He gathers the menus and walks away from the table, and a soothing comfort rises in the silence at our table.
Wolf leans over and undoes the curtain's catch, allowing it to fall and give us a modicum of privacy. Windy takes in a shuddering breath, which brings out my predatory side. She’s affected by our presence; that much is clear.
By closing that curtain, and her reaction to the level of privacy that it gives us, I think we’re going to have some fun tonight if this goes the way I think it will.
We all start talking at once, but we stop and let her lead the conversation.
The four of us ease into conversation like we’ve known each other for longer than a few minutes.
I’m listening, speaking, and laughing in the same breath.
The energy is warm and easy. We trade pieces of ourselves with one another, and I feel the subtle shift when we go from strangers to something closer, something more.
She tells us she lives on this side of town, tucked away in the suburbs.
I can picture her home instantly with the way she describes it.
A small cottage-style home with soft lights in the windows.
A small garden in the back that probably smells of herbs and fresh tilled soil.
She has pride in her voice when she tells us she owns it outright, and she’s slowly made it her home over the past several years.
She speaks of this home as more than just a place to rest her head at night.
While she’s talking, I notice little differences in her voice. When she’s open about the topic, her voice softens with femininity. When she is closed off, her voice becomes a little gravelly and rough; the words coming out clipped and sharp.
Every so often, I catch Wolf’s eyes and then Finian’s eyes. We’re all thinking the same thing. She is most definitely what we want, but she has a part of her that’s closed off to anyone around her. She doesn’t let people see the real her, and that has piqued my curiosity.
After dinner, we’re lost in conversation when out of the blue, I ask, “Do you want the night to end?”
Her smile deepens, her eyes glimmering in the low light. “No. I don’t.”
“Would you like to go back to our home for some coffee or ...” I trail off, hoping she’s thinking the same thing I’m thinking.
She licks her lips, shifting in her seat.
Her scent blooms in the air, drugging me instantly.
I can’t stop the growl from dragging up my throat even if I wanted to.
It’s low, rough, and filled with a need so fierce I can barely see straight.
Two sets of growls, varying in depth and tenor, sound from Wolf and Finian.
Our alpha sides are simmering beneath the surface.
They want their little omega, and they’ll do whatever it takes to get her.
We all want her.
We want this.
We have a feeling she wants us, too.
Her scent is driving me insane with want, and I can barely hold myself back from jumping over this table.
She releases a shaky breath. “I choose or.”