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Meg slipped away just long enough to take Declan his protein smoothie and came back seconds later, not lingering. He was asleep again, she reported, equally dejected and resigned.
I could tell Archer felt some type of way about Dec hogging the nest, but he didn’t complain. Instead, he spread our omega out in the center of the bed after I cleared all the dishes away. He and Ronan took turns massaging her and getting her off with their mouths.
They wouldn’t let her worry about them, and I didn’t either. Instead, I watched, burning yet another core memory into my gray matter.
And I mean… fuck.
Even our worst days are incredible. Together.
We all slept in the big bed again. Ronan spooned Meg’s back while Archer held her against his side. That left me to lie between peaches’ luscious legs and nuzzle her belly.
But I guess our girl is a ninja because when the sunlight hits the tangled bedsheets and wakes me up, I find an empty crater between the three of us. Some instinct pricks the back of my neck, and I turn to the right, seeing the nest door cracked open, the lights turned off.
Which means Declan is gone.
And so is our omega.
chapter
fifty-nine
I knew something was wrong before I opened my eyes. As soon as I saw my nest door cracked open, I was fully awake and worried.
Where did Declan go?
Would he leave?
It took some serious maneuvering to get out of the bed without waking anyone up. I decided to crawl over Archer, knowing he usually sleeps the hardest of the three alphas. Something about good men with clear consciouses sleeping well at night, right?
The thought made me smile the tiniest bit while I tripped into the flowy, pale-pink loungewear Mrs. Fleming somehow left out for me.
Lord. What time does the poor woman get here every day?
She even laid out a pair of slippers I’ve never seen before. Beautiful ivory fluff adorned with pearls, crystals, and a bit of feather plumage that somehow looks cute instead of ridiculous. I slide them on and scurry downstairs, worry creeping back up.
The house is silent. I have to remind myself to breathe while I dash from the base of the floating steps to the kitchen. All of my anxiety rushes out on a harsh exhale.
Declan is here.
He sits at the island, simultaneously looking like total shit and an absolute masterpiece.
His skin has a pale gray cast to it. There are dark purple smudges under both of his eyes and over the bridge of his nose—bruising from the impact of his helmet. His usual preening posture absent, he huddles over a mug on the island.
Yeah, he looks bad. But, on the other hand…
Dang.
Has anyone else ever been this handsome?
Morning light doesn’t help. It illuminates his sandy brown hair and highlights the pronounced cut of his angular jaw and matching cheekbones. With all the golden sunlight, his blue eyes glow.
And that’s just his face.
The rest of his body is bare, aside from a pair of tight navy boxers. I take a moment to run my eyes over every single slab of muscle, memorizing the flex of his calves, his quads, his obliques, and traps. He would be perfect, if not for the bruises blooming all over him.
Those don’t stop my body’s reaction, though. Perfume spins off me and I wince, knowing he’ll snap and glare at me any second.
Instead, he simply turns his head and lets his eyes drift over me for a long beat, lingering on my curves and my bare neck. I can’t really complain, though. I just ogled him thoroughly.
