Omega Werewolves Before the Full Moon

1. Elio

Elio

There’s a perfectly good dining room six feet away, which is apparently why none of us are using it.

Eight grown men are scattered around Mrs. Bennett’s living room instead, some on the couches, some on the floor, all of us working our way through a pan of lasagna big enough to feed a small army.

I have a bowl because every plate was gone by the time I got up for seconds, and Dax has somehow gotten his hands on one of the fancy white ones Zaire’s mom usually keeps behind glass.

She stops beside the coffee table and stares at all of us like she’s reconsidering every decision that brought us into her house. “You boys know I own a table, right? Chairs too. Very exciting furniture.”

Milo gestures around us with his fork and tells her this is cozier, earning a chorus of agreement that only makes her eyes narrow when she notices three of us are eating lasagna out of bowls.

Dax lifts his like that proves something. “Keeps the sauce contained.”

“That is not what those bowls are for.” She reaches down and takes the serving spoon away from Carter before he can drop it on her rug, but she’s laughing now. “I invite you over because none of you eat real food, and this is how you repay me.”

Zaire catches her when she passes the couch, pulling her close enough to kiss her cheek.

“Thanks, Mom. Seriously. It’s good as hell.

” He’s never been weird about loving his mother in front of us.

If anything, the man gets worse with an audience, grinning up at her before his expression turns suspiciously hopeful.

“You made the banana split thing too, right?”

The room fucking erupts before she can answer. Dax nearly loses his garlic bread laughing while Milo presses a hand to his chest and croons, “Aw, sweetheart needs his banana split.”

Zaire gives all of us the finger without letting go of his mother, completely unbothered when she pats his cheek and confirms it. “Yes, sweetheart. It’s in the fridge whenever you all are ready for it.”

“Laugh now,” Zaire says as she heads back toward the kitchen, pointing his saucy fork at the rest of us. “None of you are getting any.”

“Your mom invited us,” Dax points out. “Pretty sure you don’t control dessert distribution.”

“I control whether you leave here with all your teeth.” Zaire settles back into the couch like that ends the discussion, one arm stretched along the cushions behind Auden while his other hand finds its way back into my hair.

I’m sitting on the floor between Zaire’s knees because I started out beside Dax and somehow migrated over here before I finished my first helping.

Which happens a lot. Zaire’s fingers work lazily through my curls while he talks, separating one before wrapping it around his finger, Auden’s thigh pressing against my shoulder just beside Zaire.

Every once in a while, his hand drops to the back of my neck like he needs to check that I’m still here.

Milo watches us for several seconds before his face twists up in playful disgust. “God, you three are fucking disgusting. Do you ever stop touching each other?”

I glance over while reaching backward for the garlic bread sitting on Auden’s plate. “You sound jealous.” Auden moves it out of reach without looking away from Carter, and I stretch farther until my shoulder is practically in his lap.

Dax snorts from across the coffee table. “He is jealous. He’s just mad nobody’s fucking him.”

“Fuck all of you.” Milo points his fork around the room, looking for support and finding none. “You know what I mean. They’re always doing this shit.”

Auden finally looks down at me over the top of his glasses. His blond hair has fallen across his forehead, and there’s absolutely no sympathy in those amber eyes when I make another grab for his food. “You already ate yours.”

“That’s usually what happens when someone gives me food.

” I hold my hand out anyway, and his mouth twitches before he tears the bread in half and gives me some.

Milo makes a noise like we’ve personally ruined his appetite, which only gets worse when I tip my head against Auden’s leg and Zaire starts playing with my hair again.

“See?” Milo demands. “That. That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”

Mrs. Bennett laughs from the kitchen. “You stop noticing eventually.”

Dax snorts. “No, ma’am. You absolutely do not.”

I grin over at him, knowing that Auden and Zaire are actually being kind of tame. I’m usually sprawled across their lap, someone’s lips attached somewhere and fingers dangerously close to where they shouldn’t be in public.

But I respect Mrs. Bennet too much.

“You’re still here, aren’t you?” I ask.

“For the lasagna.”

Carter talks over the next round of laughter. “Speaking of shit we need to figure out, we’re fucked.” He leans over the coffee table and digs another square of lasagna out of the pan. “House board sent the final approval this morning. After last time, we need chaperones.”

Carter’s announcement earns a wall of groans. Zaire’s fingers stop halfway through one of my curls while Milo drops his head back against the couch and Auden reaches across me for his drink.

“You’re fucking serious?” Zaire asks, twisting enough to look at Carter.

“Language!” his mom calls from the kitchen, the clink of dishes following her voice.

Zaire looks toward the doorway without moving his hand from my hair. “Mom, you invited eight fraternity brothers into your house.”

She appears a second later with a stack of empty plates tucked against her hip. “That does not mean I want all eight of you destroying what’s left of my vocabulary.”

Dax scrapes the last bit of sauce from his bowl and lifts it toward her. “In fairness, I think that ship sailed years ago.”

She points at him with one of the plates. “You’ve said fuck at least nine times since you got here.”

Dax pauses with his fork halfway to his mouth. “Only nine?”

“Dax.”

He grins and ducks his head. “Sorry, Mrs. Bennett.”

Laughter rolls around the coffee table while she shakes her head and disappears back into the kitchen.

Zaire starts twisting my curl around his finger again, Carter still leaning over the lasagna pan like he’s personally responsible for ruining everyone’s night.

“Two chaperones,” he says. “They have to stay the whole night or the board won’t sign off. ”

Milo drops back against the couch. “We are adults.”

Carter playfully punches him in the arm. “You said that right before somebody put a golf cart through the alumni lounge.”

“That wasn’t me.” Milo’s immediate defense earns several doubtful looks. “It was my golf cart but I didn’t do it.. Those are two very different statements.”

I rub my hand down my face. “Chaperones are going to kill the party.”

“Depends who we ask,” Auden says above me, his fingers replacing Zaire’s at the back of my neck while Zaire reaches for his drink.

“Professor Grant?” Carter offers.

Milo leans back against the couch and folds both hands behind his head. “Absolutely not. He’d shut the whole thing down before midnight.”

Dax lets out a heavy sigh beside him, already looking tired of the conversation. “Davis isn’t any better. He reports everything.”

“Fuck, who took the corner piece?” Carter cuts in, staring down at the lasagna before looking around the room like someone committed an actual crime.

Zaire lifts his plate without a hint of guilt, the browned edge sitting right there beside what’s left of his second helping.

Carter mutters something under his breath before settling back onto the rug. “Fine. Connor’s dad?”

Silence spreads around the coffee table. Auden’s mouth tightens beside Zaire while Milo closes his eyes and sinks deeper into the couch.

“After last year?” I ask, turning enough to see Carter. “You really want to do that again?”

Auden exhales through his nose. “No. Definitely not.”

Across from us, Dax rubs a hand over his jaw before looking toward the kitchen. “We need somebody who can technically supervise us without actually treating us like children. What about Dax’s dad?”

Dax’s answer comes before Milo even finishes saying his name. “No. Find somebody else.” He shifts back against the couch, one arm stretched along the cushion behind him, looking far more serious about this suggestion than he had about any of the others.

Carter glances around the room. “Why? Your dad already knows most of us, and he’s not going to lose his mind because somebody has a beer in their hand.” He gestures toward the kitchen where Mr. Hawthorne is still talking with Mrs. Bennett. “The board would approve him in five seconds.”

“Exactly,” Milo adds. “He’d show up, make sure nobody burns the place down, and leave us alone. That’s basically the dream.”

Dax lets out a long breath and tips his head back against the couch. “You’ve met my dad. You know he doesn’t want to spend his Saturday night supervising a frat party.”

“We can ask him,” Carter shrugs. “He can tell us no himself.”

Someone from the other end of the couch glances toward the kitchen. “Plus, he’s hot as hell. Attendance might actually go up.”

Dax’s head comes back down. “And there it is.” He looks around the room before his attention lands on me, staying there long enough that I know exactly what he’s thinking. “My dad is not spending six hours in a house full of drunk frat guys who suddenly think they have a shot.”

I press a hand to my chest. “You make us sound terrible.”

“I know you.” His gaze shifts briefly to Zaire above me before coming right back. “That’s worse.”

A laugh moves through the room while Carter waves him off. “Nobody’s asking him out. We need a chaperone.”

“Good.” Dax reaches for his drink. “Then pick somebody else.”

I glance toward the kitchen again, catching Mr. Hawthorne laughing at something Mrs. Bennett says. “Or we could just ask him.”

Dax closes his eyes. “Absolutely fucking not.”