Chapter 22 #2
“Wait! Look at this,” Kieran said. He was on his knees, sweeping under furniture. He pulled back, dragging a small metal box with him.
We gathered as he set it on the desk and flipped the lid open.
“Playbills,” Cade said. “Broadway. New York City. This is for us.”
They were props this time. Every play was a made up name, but the dates were in bold.
“October. October. October,” I tapped each one. “Same date. Different years.”
“October twenty-first,” Mason read. “We should write this down.” He patted his pockets like a notebook might mysteriously appear. Every one of us was locked in now.
“It’s literally a writing desk,” Lennon pointed out, grabbing a notepad from the top of the desk and snagging a pen from the holder.
Mason scribbled our notes down and tucked the small notepad into his pocket. “I doubt there’s anything else here.”
We moved on to the next room. I could hear the soft murmurs of the other packs, but we were still alone.
The next room was a makeshift parlor. A large fireplace flickered with a fake fire, real heat blowing out of it and making it extra cozy. Plush red couches and chairs made it look inviting. I almost sat down, but the mystery was too good.
Maybe one day, when we had a real packhouse, I’d make a room just like this. Somewhere we could all find comfort and interact. I loved my nest, but after everything, I loved the idea of spending time with my pack more.
I’d done my research on deltas. They liked darker dens, just like omegas liked enclosed spaces without harsh lighting. I could meld both ideas and give us a place that felt like all of ours.
“You coming, princess?” Wilder asked when I didn’t move.
“Yeah,” I said, blinking away the mental planning. “I was just thinking how cozy this looks. It kind of fits the whole delta-omega vibe, doesn’t it?”
He looked around again, seeing it differently now. “It does.”
“Not all deltas have dens,” Lennon said. There was something in the way he said it that made me want to hug him.
Mason barely held back an eye roll. “Most do.”
“You just don’t?” I asked carefully. “You never felt like it?”
Lennon looked like he was going to say something, then stopped himself. “I have my issues.” He shrugged. “I never really got one during the years it would’ve mattered, and after that it felt pointless.”
Mason let out a huff. “You’re telling me that, just looking at our girl here, you don’t want to go into rut, drag her into your den, and fuck her senseless?”
The words were so blunt my cheeks flamed. Oddly enough, Lennon didn’t protest. Instead, he studied me, eyes burning.
“I wanted to,” he said honestly. “Since the moment I met her. Smart mouth did me in, but her not backing down or letting me push her away…”
He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.
My body moved before I realized it. Suddenly I was in his arms, legs wrapped around his waist, lips slanting over his in a claiming kiss.
He made a surprised sound, one arm banding around me, the other tilting my head, deepening it. Kissing Lennon was never sweet. There was always rivalry, not dominance. It worked for us. We were a clash of light and dark, chaos and control, and I craved more of it.
He was hard beneath me, cock pressed between us. I rocked my hips over him, my omega begging him for more.
This was the exact kind of intensity Sutton had always hesitated to give me. He hated losing control. My exes never lived in the moment or wanted me so much they couldn’t hold back.
Glancing around, it was clear we were all on the edge of saying fuck this date.
My hands wrapped around Lennon’s shoulders as my tongue dueled with his. Deltas weren’t as big as alphas, not that I’d experienced it fully. Sutton seemed to hate that side of himself. He never let me have his knot, never rutted me.
I’d heard how their knots worked, and I’d always been intrigued. Now, I was glad Sutton held back. I wanted Lennon and Mason to be my first. To make it mean something real.
The others moved around us, blocking the doorway. I appreciated that because my omega was absolutely thinking with her pussy right now.
“We have to get out of here,” Wilder said, voice almost desperate.
Lennon pulled back, chest heaving. His eyes were stormy, his scent electric. We were likely flooding the space with our pheromones.
“I don’t give a fuck who gets the inheritance,” he said. “But it’s not gonna be us.”
“I can agree to that,” Cade said. “Take her to the car. I’ll handle it.”
Lennon didn’t put me down as he stalked off.
I let out an undignified squeak as he tightened his grip and carried me outside, the others right behind us, my very own entourage making sure I was safe.
Cold winter air hit as the doors opened. Lennon’s expression was fierce, daring the world to challenge him.
I noticed a group of women in the parking lot, phones raised. I turned my face into his neck, breathing in that sharp, comforting scent of pepper and linen.
I didn’t care who saw.
All I wanted was more of my delta.
“Tell me I can have you in the car,” I murmured. “You’re not going to make me wait until we get home… are you?”