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I’ve lost count of all the things I’m mortified by: my wet hair, the hodgepodge of men’s clothing hanging off my body, my general existence. I didn’t have many options, though. I had to shower before I faced the Ash pack and I don’t have any spare clothes with me.
I start to back toward the safety of the guest room, but the woman hooks her arm through mine and gives my hand a reassuring pat. “Well you are every bit as beautiful as Mr. Theo described you,” she says. “And he described you a lot. I’m Mrs. Fleming, the housekeeper.”
The kindly beta woman grips my limp hand and squeezes warmly, sending a rush of calm through me. It’s a nifty trick. She clocks the surprise on my face. Her smile turns knowing.
“I have three omega daughters and three alpha sons,” she whispers, her tone conspiratorial. “Not to mention all of the grandkids. I’ve learned a few tricks.”
I believe her. She seems to know precisely when I start to panic and has a way of distracting me when I need it most. She talks about the unseasonably mild weather while she pulls me out of the hall and onto an enormous second-floor landing.
Below, the first-floor foyer sprawls at the base of a set of floating steps with a glass railing. It’s all modern opulence—black marble floors, thick wood doors, and floor-to-ceiling windows. I open my mouth, but words don’t come out. Instead, some choked, squeaking noise slips up my throat while I blink at the woman guiding me.
A hint of sympathy enters her eyes. “The boys can be a lot to take on, I know. But they haven’t been able to stop talking about you all week. I know they’re waiting anxiously downstairs.”
“They… are?”
But this time I manage to at least smile. She pats my arm again, nodding enthusiastically. “Come along, dear. I’ll show you.”
I follow Mrs. Fleming into the foyer. The floors gleam, polished black stone shining under the smoky glass light fixture hanging from two stories above. Off to the right, there’s a huge living room with a luxurious leather sofa curved in the middle.
When I freeze over the threshold, Mrs. Fleming chuckles. “There’s a lot more to see, I’m afraid. The kitchen, garage, and pack wing are off the other side of the foyer, but we’re going to the lanai.”
The lanai?
Good lord.
Mrs. Fleming notices the way I tense up and draws to a halt. I can see our destination a few yards away—the back wall of glass folded open like an accordion, revealing the bleached white stone of a pool deck and outdoor entertaining space.
Ronan is off to the side, standing next to a smoking grill. Archer seems to be reading at a glass table.
My heart jumps when I notice that Theo is here, too. He paces around the enormous square pool, waving his arms while he talks on his phone. Mrs. Fleming follows my gaze and grins.
“He’s been on the phone with his little sister for an hour,” she tells me. “Miss Emma is also an omega. He’s asking her for advice on how to make you more comfortable.”
I watch him for a long moment, not believing what I’m hearing. But, sure enough, his eyes look wide and earnest while he nods vigorously. As though his sister can hear him silently agreeing with whatever she’s saying.
My cheeks hurt. After a moment, I realize it’s because I’m smiling so hard.
And the next thing I know, I’m running.
chapter
eighteen
“I’m going out of my skin,” I mutter, “I swear, Em.”
My sister’s laugh floats through the phone. “I believe you, but it might take her a while to come downstairs. She’s just had a heat-spike in a house full of strange alphas. If I were her, I’d be hiding.”
I grimace. Both of my sisters have been known to hide in their nests whenever they get freaked out. Only, Meg doesn’t have one of those in her guest room. My poor sweet little peach.
“What else should I get for her?” I ask, practically begging for advice.
Emma hums. “Well, you guys left her clothes with your scents on them?”
I look around the outdoor kitchen. Ronan silently mans the grill. He’s been quiet since I came home, but he nods. Archer is sitting at the nearby dining table, pretending to read some stack of papers. He looks up and offers a nod of his own, confirming.
“Yep.”
“Good,” Em says. “And she has scent-canceling body wash up there? I know you guys won’t like it, but it will make her feel more comfortable if she isn’t steeped in her own perfume.”
