Chapter 17
Lark
I don’t know what Silas said to Saint while Graham and I put away my clothes, but the two are waiting in the kitchen when we come down. Silas is massaging the area between his eyes while Saint glares at a spot over my shoulder.
Silas changed into a fresh pair of jeans and a plaid button-down that perfectly accentuates his wide shoulders.
The sleeves are rolled up to the elbow, exposing his thick forearms and enough ink to make me want to trace every line with my finger to find where it starts and ends. He’s undeniably sexy.
Graham is still wearing his white button-down and khakis, but he’s added a tweed jacket with patches at the elbows. It’s a look you have to commit to, but it one hundred percent works on him.
Okay, professor.
And Saint.
I’ve seen his face before, briefly, in that room at the clinic.
I wasn’t prepared for it then, and I’m not prepared for it now.
He’s absurdly, almost aggressively handsome.
The kind of handsome that stops an omega dead in her tracks.
Sharp jaw. High cheekbones. Amber eyes that catch the light and look like there’s something burning behind them.
His skin is light umber and flawless, and his hair is cropped close at the sides with just enough length on top to make you wonder what it would feel like to run your fingers through it.
His lips are full and currently pressed into a hard line, which does nothing to make them less distracting.
He’s wearing a baby blue T-shirt that fits close across his shoulders and chest and goes loose at his lean waist. The color does something genuinely unfair to his complexion.
I bet he has a six-pack. No, an EIGHT pack!
I don’t even bother to shush her. I’m too overwhelmed.
This is the first time I’ve been in a room with all three of them and the scent threatens to undo me. My knees actually consider giving out.
Silas’ honeyed whiskey is heavy in the air and perfectly complemented by Graham’s dark, nutty chocolate, and Saint’s spicy ginger and dark molasses. I perfume so heavily no amount of slick wicking panties feels like enough.
Saint makes a sound low in his throat, not quite a growl and not quite words, before pushing through the doors to the garage. Silas and Graham surround me.
“Don’t let him scare you, little bird.”
Fear is not the emotion I’m feeling, but I don’t say that because both their hands are on me.
“As much as I want to stay here all night and touch you, the store closes at eight.”
I place my forehead on Graham’s chest. “What if I like it here?”
He beams. “That makes me happier than you could know. But I want to get your nest started. Now that you’ve found your scent-sensitive mates, your heat schedule may change. The research suggests it will come earlier than you expect.”
I rub my hand in his soft, floppy curls, before turning to Silas. “What about you, mountain man? Where do you want to be?”
He leans in and kisses me until my body is ablaze. “Anywhere you are. But Graham’s right. We need to get your nest ready.”
We walk into the garage. There are six stalls, but only four are full.
At the far end sits a red Jeep Wrangler with an ERFD sticker on the driver’s side window.
Saint’s I presume. A black Lotus Eletre, which I immediately know belongs to Graham.
Then the Land Rover. And finally, in the spot closest to me, a fucking Rolls Royce.
And not one of those old ratty ones you buy at a used car auction.
This one is new and perfect and has obviously never been submerged in a lake, rolled down a hill, or set on fire by some crazy ex.
OmegaBox is doing very well, but it’s not doing I’m just gonna pop down the road and buy a Rolls good. Seriously, what the hell do pharmaceutical scientists and furniture designers make, anyway? I don’t know how much firefighters earn, but I’m confident it’s not Rolls Royce money.
They usher me to the Land Rover. Silas sees me eyeing the Rolls and smirks. “Not today, little bird. We plan on buying a lot of stuff tonight and will need the Rover’s space to haul everything back.”
While Graham and I were unpacking upstairs, Silas and Saint unpacked my other boxes. So the Land Rover’s trunk is now empty and ready for me to stuff it full of pillows and blankets and whatever else the guys deem necessary.
Saint sits stiffly in the back seat, his gaze fixed out the window. Graham climbs in next to him, leaving me space in the front to sit with Silas. Silas hands me in, letting his hands linger a moment on my arm and hip. I try to convince my heart to slow. It doesn’t.
I try to tell myself it’s just his way of helping with my touch starvation. But then he cups my chin and draws my lips to his. His kiss is slow and deliberate, and he smells like whiskey and honey and something that is starting to feel dangerously like home.
He pulls away looking like he's been drugged.
Same.
“You smell so sweet, little bird. I can’t keep my hands off you.”
I swallow. This may be a long, difficult outing.
The ride to the store is relatively short.
Graham fills the time by listing all the items he thinks I should consider for my space.
Silas listens quietly, only speaking when I ask about color preferences.
Graham likes green. Silas likes navy. Saint likes blue, or at least Graham thinks that’s true since it’s the color he usually wears.
Saint shrugs, neither confirming nor denying.
The Nesting Corner is a boutique store for omegas located on East Rock’s Main Street. Despite being smaller than the nesting box stores, it’s still quite large with a generous selection of pillows, lamps, bedding, and other items necessary for every omega’s nest.
When we enter the store, I’m overwhelmed by the choices. I’ve been here twice before. Once when I first moved into my apartment, and another a few months after when I realized all the things I failed to buy on my first trip. But coming here with my pack feels different. Surreal.
Huh. My pack. When had I started to think of them that way?
I test the words again, quietly, in the back of my head.
My pack. My alphas. Graham and Silas make it easy.
But Saint is surly and quiet and the only words he's ever said to me in person were "No" and "I can't." Three words. Seven letters between them.
As Graham ushers me toward the bedding area, I peek over at my sullen alpha. His hands are stuffed in his pants pockets. Lips in a hard line. He’s crabby as hell and it hurts me for him. And also makes me want to smack him upside the back of his head.
The man I texted was sweet. And funny. And oddly endearing with his opinions about coffee.
I know he’s depressed about his mom’s passing.
I remember being confused and misplacing emotions when my own parents died.
But dammit, I’m his omega. He should recognize the rarity of that.
What we have isn’t optional. Not for him. Not for me.
He should also have the decency to look a little less attractive while he's actively rejecting me. A store employee drifts past him slowly. Twice. And I clock exactly what she's doing because I would do the same thing.
My omega growls.
God. Apparently we're doing this now.
“What did you say?” Graham asks.
Shit. Did I do that out loud?
“Just humming to myself.” I duck my head and walk to the wall of color swatches for a comforter I like.
I'd prefer a quilt. Something vibrant with blue, navy, and green, so all my alphas are represented.
Even the difficult one. It would fit the style of the house and make me think of them every time I pulled it over me.
But quilts take ages to make and I'll need bedding for my heat. I file the idea away for later. Maybe I can order one for my next heat.
I decide on an ecru color comforter and sheets.
Five sets because heats get messy. I add two mattress protectors to the cart, as well.
Then I begin piling copious numbers of pillows in.
Graham watches me pile in every shade of green, blue, and navy I can find.
After a moment he says nothing but picks up a deep navy pillow and adds it himself. He knows exactly what I'm doing.
The cart is overflowing when Silas rolls another beside me. I didn’t even see him get it.
“Saint, take this one to the register and have them start to add things to our bill.”
Our bill. This is what packs do. I grew up knowing that. It still catches me off guard.
“What about this one?” Graham holds up a fluffy ecru pillow. It matches my comforter perfectly. “It feels like a rabbit. You’ll need soft things when your heat begins.”
I touch the pillow and feel a smile tug at my lips. “It’s perfect. Can you find more like this but in blue, green, or navy?”
Graham nods. “I’ll look everywhere until I find one in each color.” He walks to the far side of the wall, meticulously scanning each shelf of pillows.
Silas watches him step away. “We need to find you some new sleepwear.”
“I brought so many pajama sets with me.”
He kisses my nose. “Graham said that omegas like new clothes when they start a nest with their mates. According to his research, your omega will demand it when your heat begins.”
“She’ll be stark naked for most of it, so I doubt she’ll care.”
A growl rolls from Silas' chest, low and warm, definitely not disapproving. It has me stepping closer.
He puts his arms, all ink and muscle, around me. “Careful, little bird. You’re playing a dangerous game in public.”
“Would you prefer she be in her new jammies during heat?” I bat my lashes, daring him to kiss me.
He does.
Right there in the middle of the pillow section. It’s slow and claiming. I’m burning hot by the time he pulls away.
“New sleepwear,” he mumbles. “Before I find a dressing room and do something to embarrass the workers.”
He pulls me to the lingerie and pajama section. Despite my arguments, my omega is thrilled to have so many new sleeping and loungewear options. I select four sets in a matter of minutes. Silas adds two lingerie sets to my growing pile.
Graham arrives with four fuzzy pillows. One navy, one blue, and two in green, his favorite color.
When he sees what Silas adds to the cart, he immediately scans the racks for something that suits his own preferences.
His eyes land on a peacock green babydoll set designed to show more than it hides.
He places it in the cart without comment, ears slightly pink, and turns to find more items.
The smell of ginger and molasses surrounds me. My pulse jumps. I turn to see Saint standing by the cart. A blue set is on top of the growing pile.
He meets my eyes for half a second before stalking away.
He added that, my omega pulses in quiet triumph.
I try not to read too much into it, but I do add one more blue set to the cart.
“I think this should be everything for now,” I announce to Silas and Graham. “There’s a blanket at the warehouse that I want to add. It’s one that’s going in our next box. I can get that later.”
“We can go tonight,” Silas says.
Graham’s face lights up. “I’d like to see your warehouse. We can grab supper on the way. It’ll be fun.”
Silas kisses me before turning toward the register to pay. Graham tugs me toward the door. “Sit in the back with me.” he says it like it’s a statement. It’s really a question.
Saint is standing next to Silas at the register, so I won’t have to ask him to move to the front seat.
“Does that mean car kisses and heavy petting?”
“Only if you want it. I’m happy just sitting next to you.” He looks so sincere I have no choice but to believe him. My omega goes soft.
God, this man. My sweet, gentle giant.
“I think some heavy petting would be good. Very good.”
His eyes go wide and a smile spans the entire width of his handsome face. “Let’s go, beautiful.” He scoops me up and carries me through the lot like I weigh nothing.