Chapter 26
I was going out of my goddamn mind.
Things were good.
Too good.
We were comfortable, like a little makeshift pack. I wasn't actually part of their pack, but temporarily, things were going really well. We were at ease with each other, there were no awkward silences. We were finally getting along. So, why? Why did my stupid, treacherous omega body decide that it wanted to get horny?
I’d a moment with each of the guys: from the kiss with Carter that I still dreamed about, to the moment I nearly kissed Asher in the kitchen, to the feeling of having Dylan standing behind me, holding my hips while we were shooting guns. At this point, I was the horniest virgin that ever existed, surely. If it weren’t for the fact that alphas had great hearing, I might have attempted a little solo exploration, just to see if I could give myself a few happy moments. I understood the basics. I knew what orgasms were; my family had many open conversations, but I had been young when Alec took me, so I never really had that time to explore, and there was no way in hell I was going to do that while I was locked in a basement with a psycho. Especially one who was waiting for me to have a heat so he could fuck me and pretend he was an alpha.
I couldn’t help but wonder if there would really be any harm if me and the guys had a little bit of fun? I wasn’t naive—I could see that each of them constantly had a boner around me. I was an omega, and I smelled good; omegas always smelled good to alphas. These guys smelled downright delicious to me, like sex personified. Every time one of them was near me, I just wanted to shove my face in their armpit and huff deeply, which I knew was a disturbing mental image, and I chided myself many times when I thought about doing that. But that didn’t change the fact that all my omega wanted to do was huff armpits. Maybe my time in that basement had well and truly broken me.
My entire body felt off-kilter, which was bizarre because I’d finally started feeling almost normal after weeks at the cabin. After so long in captivity, it had taken me a while to feel some semblance of normal. But I was comfortable, I was happy, I was well-fed, but now, things were changing again, and I wasn’t sure if it was for the better. My stomach was starting to cramp, my chest was always tight, and every time I smelled the guys, something inside me lurched.
And yet, the guys were nothing but gentlemen about it. They probably understood what I was going through. They could tell I wasn’t exactly subtle with my longing glances. And I didn't think that it was because they didn’t want me—they definitely wanted me—but they wouldn’t pressure me. Consent really wasn’t a thing, considering the situation we were in… would it truly be consent if I was trapped here after being trapped in a basement for five years? Before I made the choice to actually be with a pack, I would need a lot of therapy.
Still, I couldn’t help but imagine what life with them would be like. What was their home like in the city? Did they live in a townhouse or an apartment? What kind of home would it be? Would it be warm and cozy, like the cabin, or would it be more modern? They guys moved together like a well-oiled machine, and that didn’t feel too surprising in the cabin, when they were together all day, every day. But I wondered what it would be like in the city, when each of them were going about their day jobs?
“Earth to Juniper.” Asher’s voice broke into my thoughts, his head cocked to the side.
I jumped. We were in the kitchen, kneading bread again. It had turned into a weekly ritual for us, and sometimes we did it more than once a week, because, between the four of us, we were getting through a lot of bread. Now that Asher had taught me how to make homemade butter from scratch, we were all addicted. There was no way I was going to be underweight by the time the weather cleared and the phone signals were restored. I’d be plump and happy because of the sheer amount of bread and butter I was consuming every day.
“Oh, yeah. I’m fine, just daydreaming,” I said with a giggle, turning back to the dough. I tried not to look at him, not wanting to admit I’d been daydreaming about him lifting me onto the counter and having his way with me. Surely, I would need to be more experienced to have such vivid, explicit daydreams? But apparently not ’cause they were haunting me, and it was the guys’ fault for smelling so good.
“Urm, can we make this one sea salt and rosemary?” I asked, cocking my head to the side, focusing on the dough in my hands, the rhythmic movements of kneading. It was both relaxing and exhausting, and I liked that. I liked having something to do with my hands.
I was slowly getting stronger with each day. I was able to knead the bread longer, to run on the treadmill for longer, to lift more stuff. My training with Dylan was doing the trick. I wouldn’t be able to kick alpha ass anytime soon. At least, not against a military guy, like Dylan, Asher, or Carter. But, you know, against a run-of-the-mill alpha, I might be able to hold my own.
Asher nodded. “Yeah, we can go and get some fresh rosemary. I’m pretty sure we can have some in the greenhouse.” He rinsed the leftover dough from his hands at the sink before drying them with a tea towel with little decorative mushrooms on it. “Do you want to come with me?”
“Yeah, just give me two more minutes to finish kneading this, then I’ll put it in to prove while we go get it,” I said, smiling.
He grinned appreciatively. “You’re learning. Before long, you’ll be better at breadmaking than me.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” I said with a giggle. “Remember the chili jalapeno loaf?”
Asher winced. “Yeah, that wasn’t your finest moment.”
We’d discussed the possibility of making a loaf with jalapenos, chili powder, maybe some cheese, and a little bit of spice. Only, I’d added so much spice that all the guys had taken one bite, then run to the fridge to find milk or some other drinks to soothe their burning throats. I hadn’t taken a bite yet, so when I grabbed the loaf to see what the guys were moaning over, Dylan had run over and grabbed the loaf from my hands before I could taste it.
He chucked it out the window, giving me a stern look. “You are not to eat that,” he’d said, red-faced.
I turned to Asher with a befuddled expression, and he nodded in agreement, muttering, “It’s very hot, darling.” Since then, I hadn’t tried any spicy loaves.
I rinsed my hands and peeked into the cupboards to see if the other ingredients I was considering were there. “Should we do a sweet loaf as well? We have plenty of dough,” I said, turning to look at Asher and the bowls of dough we had been working on. There was easily enough for four loaves, so we could have some fun with flavours.
“What flavour are you thinking?” Asher asked.
“Honey and pecan? Or if you have any maple syrup, maple syrup and pecan?”
Asher hummed in agreement, his eyes lighting up. “That does sound amazing. But I’ll warn you now, if you make it, you’ll have to hide it from Dylan. That man loves pecan pie so badly that, if you make a load of bread that tastes like it, he’ll steal it and hoard it.”
“Wait, I thought Dylan didn’t like sweets?” I said, surprised.
“Not usually, but he makes an exception for pecan pie.”
A smile broke out across my face. If there was a flavour of sweet things that Dylan would actually eat, I was definitely making it. Because, up until now, all the sweets I had been making had been for myself, Carter, and Asher. Dylan would take a nibble every now and again, if I offered him a bite. But he clearly wasn’t obsessed with the idea of sweet foods. Which was kind of baffling, considering all he had been drinking for the last few days were strawberry-flavoured protein shakes. When I asked why he wasn’t drinking the caramel or chocolate ones, he’d simply said he had a taste for the strawberry ones at the moment. Also, he knew I preferred caramel, and I still needed to be drinking at least one protein shake a day, so it was better all around.
Too bad it was the dead of winter; otherwise, I’d have tried something fresh, like lemon-strawberry bread or scones. Those would be amazing.
“Hey, Asher, do we have everything to make scones? I was considering making fruit scones, but of course, it’s the middle of winter. I used to make them with my mom,” I said, smiling at the memory of baking with my mum.
Asher cocked his head. “We have, actually. Plus, we’ve got bags of frozen fruit in the deep freezer in the back.”
“Can we go take a look before we head to the greenhouse?” I asked.
“Sure. Raid it and take whatever you want. Make whatever you want. I’d personally love some scones. We have chocolate chips, for sure.”
I nodded. “Chocolate chips are always a good bet, but I feel like we need something with fruit in it.”
Asher agreed. “Yeah, I understand that. We haven’t had much fruit while we’ve been up here. We tend to eat more veggies while we are here for the winter and have a lot more fruits in the summer in the city.”
I dried my hands and followed Asher out the back. There was a large outer shed or possibly a small garage where several chest freezers stood. I had been in there once or twice before, but I’d never taken the time to search through it.
Flicking on the light, Asher pointed to one of the large white chest freezers. “That one should have the fruit in it.”
I trotted over to the freezer and pulled it open. I was met with a myriad of foods, but after a moment or two of digging through bags of ground beef and potatoes, I found the fruit, including strawberries. If Dylan was such a fan of strawberry-flavoured food at the moment, strawberry scones it was. At the last moment, I also grabbed a bag of the blueberries. “How much of this stuff do we have?” I asked, holding the two bags up. “I don’t want to use it all up if it has to last a long time.”
Asher chuckled and shook his head. “We’ve got plenty to last us a while. Don’t worry about that.”
“Perfect,” I said. “In that case, I saw a recipe in the cookbook. I'm thinking we can make some blueberry muffins and some strawberry scones.”
Asher’s grin spread wide. “That sounds perfect, and as your personal taste tester, I heartily agree that you should make them.”
“You can have as much as you want,” I said, closing the chest freezer, “but you’ll have to share with your pack mates.”
He pouted. “That’s not fair,” he whined as I walked past him, handing him the bags of fruit as we headed towards the back of the greenhouse.
“You're going to have to tell me which one is the rosemary plant?” I asked, frowning at the rows of green herbs. I couldn’t decipher which was which, they all looked the same to me. Little pots with green things growing out of them.
Asher laughed. “Here, hold these,” he said, returning the bags of fruit to me. “I’ll get the rosemary for the bread.”
“Thank you,” I said, flashing him a smile.