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In my defense, I really couldn’t drive after whatever hormonal nonsense came over me. I still can’t figure out how it happened. Was it the pillow-man covered in their scents? Being in their space for hours? The jersey?
Or is it really just… us?
Scent-sensitivity. Mates.
Archer seems to think so. He’s also the one who convinced me to stay at the pack’s house leading up to my heat. Which really isn’t fair. The man is impossible to argue with, always making perfect sense the calmest way possible.
And the plan does make sense. After three close-calls in one week, I know I shouldn’t be alone. The guys all claim they want to be there for me. Plus, they have Archer’s expertise and access to every specialist in the area. There’s plenty of space in the house.
A nest, too.
Just in case, Archer assures me.
No one has so much as pressured me to look at it, but Dr. Dreamboat constantly reminds me that it’s there for me if I need it.
The only obvious issue—that I’ll be alone, in a house full of big, powerful alphas—doesn’t seem all that threatening after Sunday night. I practically threw myself at them all, and they still kept their hands to themselves and their knots out of me. I know I can trust them. Physically, at least.
The rest will come in time, Remi claims. The stats I googled appear to back her up—99.8 percent of scent-sensitive packs bond within three months of meeting. 84 percent bond within the first month.
I’m too embarrassed to tell my best friend that I barely know anything about omega bonding.
I understand it connects the alphas in a pack, routing their bonds through a central mate. For the alphas, those bonds can make or break their pack. Without them, their natures urge them to compete, fight, dominate.
But bonds turn the other alphas in a pack from just that—others—into a part of a whole. They no longer feel the need to fight because they stop seeing themselves as separate entities.
Which sounds great. For them. Of course, my mother never thought to teach her sure-to-be-alpha daughter what bonding means for an omega.
Would I be able to hear them all? At the same time? Hearing Theo alone seems overwhelming, with the way the big guy’s lightning-quick thoughts leap around. And Archer may be quiet, but he’s also brilliant. I’m sure his mind never rests, either.
Ronan… Ronan scares me. He’s such an enigma, and his temper is as icy as it is quick.
What if they get angry with me? Will all of their vitriol funnel right into my body? Will I start to hate myself if they end up hating me?
I don’t like to even think about it… but, at this point, I’m pretty sure loathing is the primary emotion I’d get from Declan.
Remi’s light laugh flutters through my car. “You are not crazy, Meg. They’re just trying to take care of you. This is exact what’s supposed to happen when you find your mates.”
I hear the stutter in her reassurance. I know it has nothing to do with me and everything to do with the undeniable fact that I’m somehow living her dream right now.
The irony sucks. I never wanted all of this omega nonsense. I just wanted to get a good job and take care of myself. But Remi… she’s wanted a pack of her own for as long as I can remember. Scent-sensitivity is literally her greatest wish.
My heart aches, blooming with guilt and vicarious longing on my best friend’s behalf. “Oh, Rems,” I whine softly. “I’m really an asshole, aren’t I? Talking about them so much. I’m so sorry.”
“No.” She exhales, the sound shaking. “I’m sorry. This is wonderful for you, Meg. So, so wonderful. They’re everything you need exactly when you needed it most. I couldn’t be happier for you. I’m just sad for me, too, I guess.”
I flop back against my car seat, pouting at the universe. “This blows.”
Remi laughs again, the sound a bit more sincere. “Right?”
“Totally,” I concur, flicking my blinker on and leaning forward to scan around me.
Damn. This area is way nicer than I noticed last weekend. I must have been too nervous to really appreciate the copse of oak trees overhead and the charming brick roads.
The guys’ house is modern, but the neighborhood is all historic charm, set way back in the most private area of the city’s wealthiest borough. I see a few other modern structures similar to theirs, but most of the homes are grand, stately affairs.
I can imagine walking these sidewalks on cool evenings, enjoying the shade and the sound of wind whispering through the leaves swaying above me. It feels safe way back here, away from the bustle of the downtown area and far from any tourist attractions.
Remi and I hang up as I pull into the driveway. Today, the gates are open and I see why—the garage is full of cars.
