Teddy
Gravel crunches beneath the tires as we park up on the drive in front of the three-story farmhouse.
Lucas has already parked around the side, and I peer into the trees to see if I can spot his golden coat amongst the branches.
Giant paw prints scatter the gravel near our car, and I see Skye’s eyes drop to them, widening as she takes in the size.
“Some big old kitties around here, huh?”
I hum in agreement, my mind elsewhere as I try to react normally and not like I’m ready to toss myself on her when she bolts.
Clay returns my worry with a dip of his chin, though Atlas is still as naive as ever, standing with her, offering his suit jacket to warm her up.
He’s been full on from the moment he smelled her, talking about all the things he’s going to do and show her, like a child with a new pet.
Ah, good call. She would have to pass the kitchen to make it to either door. Either the back door through the sun room and out over the porch at the back, or through to the front door. Playing it safe.
Stepping across the drive, we group around her, shielding her from the chilly night breeze as I unlock the door.
Luc has flicked on the underfloor heating before heading out, and the wood is warm, comfortable beneath my feet when I shuck my boots off, and our Omega damn near whimpers as she steps onto the heat.
Fuck, how could we forget she had no shoes on?
Flicking on the lights, I look down to see her feet in the giant flip-flops that Atlas keeps in the foot well for the hot days when he takes the kids swimming in the pond, and breathe out my relief.
“Wow…” Eyes darting around the room, her mouth drops, and pride swarms me from how she's looking at my home. Maybe I do have something to offer our Omega, even if it’s just the four walls around us.
“Welcome home,” I smile, leading her through the entrance hall.
“The main house has been in my family for generations, but we’ve upgraded it in the last few years.
Lounge is through there, there’s a full entertainment system with whatever streaming service you prefer,” Pointing through the door at the bottom of the stairs, then directing her to the big double door on the other side, “Kitchen, that’s my domain mostly, and the dining room is sort of extended onto the back of that.
There’s a sun room through the back, Lucas’ room in the summer, pretty much, and it looks onto the deck and the paddocks.
Five bedrooms on the first floor, and we have an Omega room in the loft with a bedroom, nest, bathroom, and a small kitchen too. ”
As I speak, I walk her through each room, watching the change from panic to a sort of wonderment.
With each room, she relaxes and explores a little.
It’s with a pang of fear that I realize she just fits into this space like she’s been here forever, breezing through and mixing her scent with ours.
Venturing into each room, she thinks we don’t notice as she picks something belonging to each of us and stuffs it into her dress, padding out her chest further.
Without my pack mates' stronger sense of smell, everything’s a little diluted, but I can smell her sweet cocktail puffing with each pilfered item.
Maybe, if we are really lucky, she’s thinking less about escaping now and more about her approaching heat. We can only hope.
By the time we’re at the nest, she’s practically purring.
With painted white walls, there are fairy lights strung across the exposed beams. A pit bed full of uncovered pillows sits in the middle, and with a squeal, our Omega tosses herself in.
Rolling around in the duvets and pillows, she bundles herself right up.
Bright eyes peer out as she beams at us, and her Omega purr starts up properly—a delicate whirring sound that teases my muscles into relaxing and returns her pleased expression.
“What do you think?” Standing next to her, I take a second to balance myself as I squat down. I don’t trust myself not to topple into the nest with the padded edges. “Anything you need, we’ll get it for you.”
“Hmmm,” Purring again, her head pops out a little more, cheeks squished where the blankets are tightly wrapped, “More purple.”
Nodding sagely, I turn to our Alphas in the doorway, “Needs to be more purpler.”
Clay and Atlas look at each other, searching each other's faces for some sort of clue to what's going on, as I smother a chuckle. Skye echoes me with a shy giggle, and I meet her eyes. Bad decision. I’m not able to fight this laugh, choking its way up my throat until I am bent over, cackling.
Skye joins in, snorting and hooting in her mountain of soft nest.
Heaving air through my mouth, tears catch on my lashes, and heat flushes through me as I wipe them away.
When was the last time I laughed like this?
Had we truly only met this woman tonight?
At the door, a perplexed grumble comes from one of the men, and sets us both off again.
Neither of us holds back, howling and feeding into each other until I am clutching my ribs.
Catching her breath, Skye unearths herself and reaches out to tentatively pat me on the leg.
Shit. Every muscle freezes, and my laughter stops dead in my throat, strangling into a groan as she pets the metal limb there.
Instead of commenting, she just redirects to pat my thigh.
I wonder if she feels the mangled scar tissue there, but she says nothing, just giving me that big smile.
“Thanks, Teddy,” She murmurs with the softest voice.
I wonder if I’ll ever hear her say that whilst I’m inside her, calling my name out in that same breathy tone.
Seeming to sense the change in the mood, and probably the twitch in my pants at eye level, her throat bobs and her pupils blow.
Thick rum, lime, and mint fill the room in a sharp tang, and I can’t help but inhale.
“I… I… Uhh.” Husky and unsteady, she clears her throat and clambers out of the nest, “I gotta use the bathroom.”
Retreating quickly into the attached en-suite, the door slams a little too hard, and the lock click is deafening.
Too much too fast, we pushed her too hard, especially when we all know she’s not comfortable and wants to escape.
I might have been getting somewhere with her until my damn traitorous libido kicked in.
“Her scent,” Atlas groans, adjusting himself as he bends to bury his nose in the bedding.
You know what, I take it back, I'm downright gentlemanly, and I’m glad he didn’t do that whilst she was here.
But the second problem hits as I watch the fur appear across the backs of his hands with some weird, fascinating magic, or whatever it is that lets them shift.
Clay steps in, positioning himself between us and watches Atlas come as close to rutting as we’ve ever seen him.
Out of the three shifters, he has the worst restraint and self-control, but we’ve never seen his animal come so close to the surface that he has those reflective lenses across his eyes.
“Mine…” Following her scent to the bathroom, the shift takes him with every step.
His suit strains at the seams, his body even bigger as fur bursts between the ripping stitches like an overstuffed scarecrow.
It isn’t a shock to see the wolfman in front of us, smiling with a baring of sharp teeth, muzzle in the air as he draws scent from around the doorway, then growls with his ears flat against his skull.
“She’s gone.”
Fuck.