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My cock twitches, filling at the memory. Meg glances down at it. Her wry disbelief sounds a lot like, You’ve got to be kidding me.
Which is fair, considering she’s fucked each of us three dozen times over the last four days.
I examine her face, smiling at the clarity radiating from her blue eyes. Not wanting to wake the others, I send a thought through wordlessly.
You look good, baby. How do you feel?
She gives a bratty little huff, clearly intending to mask her real emotions when she snaps, Sore.
For a second, I think I’ll have to ask for more. But then her internal curtain lifts, letting her feelings flow through both of us.
She feels shy.
Embarrassed.
Come here, baby. I tuck her right up into me, wrapping both arms around her, sending reassurance and gratitude back. She relaxes into me, keeping the path between us completely open, letting me read everything more closely.
There’s chagrin and a bit of dismay—normal, I’d bet, for someone who demanded to be serviced every hour on the hour for three days—but there’s also a deep sense of satisfaction. Pride. Happiness. Awe.
I feel all of it for myself, sending my own versions back to her. A shaky breath quivers past her lips.
I feel her disbelief before a clear thought comes through, her voice ringing in my head. You feel everything so deeply in here, she says, moving her hand to cover the beat in my chest. A wince touches her brow at the exact second a pang of concern hits her heart. Doesn’t it hurt?
I look at the pack gathered around us. At this woman who loves me so much, I couldn’t believe it until I felt it for myself.
And you know what?
It did, I tell her, feeling my lips pull up into a grin. But not anymore.
seventy-three
four months later
“Are you ready?”
Meg stands in front of the mirror for a final second, scanning the outfit Declan picked out for her. It’s way too fucking sexy. A stretchy black mini skirt that matches the lace trimming her silky orange bodysuit.
When I asked him why he wanted our omega in lingerie in front of the entire godforsaken universe, he pointed out that the low-cut, backless onesie displays all four of our claiming marks. I smile to myself while Meg fluffs out her waves, turning on her platform. Sure enough, the bastard was right. His bite—the lowest one on her body—is clearly visible—two silver half-moons glimmering just above the lacy, tapered point above her ass. Theo’s is prominent, too, thanks to the bustier style of the front.
A surge of possessive pride streaks through me while I bend to skim my lips over my own claim. Meg’s knees shake. A surge of pleasure rolls down her back.
I smirk, raising one brow at her though the mirror. “I’ll take that as a yes,” I murmur. “Though, maybe I should I avoid riling you up while the guys are trying to focus.”
Theo and Declan’s bonds are unnaturally quiet. I can tell our omega doesn’t like it. She lets me see her anxiety, soundlessly wondering if she should reach out to them. I push as much confidence and calm to her as I can.
Because if there was ever a day for me to hold my pack together, it’s definitely today.
The National Championship.
Meg turns and smiles at me, amused by the way I act like I’m not nervous. I know she knows better, but it’s still a hard habit to break.
“Did the Matthews get here?” she asks, picking up her purse.
I nod. “Archer got them into our box without any issue. It’s very nice, apparently. Plenty of room, and it’s on the club level, so we’re closer to the field than we would be at home.”
It’s a brilliant layout. One I wouldn’t mind duplicating. I make a mental note to call an architect on Monday—that way it will be done before next season kicks off.
An image slips in through Meg’s bond. Her imagined picture of me overseeing a construction crew in the Ospreys’ stadium.
