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It hasn’t been easy. While I may not have any qualms about how much we’re spending, Meg clearly does. She winces and cringes every time she finds something she likes.
These omega instincts—allowing herself to be pampered, pleasured, protected—don’t come easy to her. She has to really pause and hone in on them to make decisions. Yet another reason why this should have struck me as exhausting for her.
“Let’s come back tomorrow,” I suggest, my voice cajoling as I draw her in for a hug. “You’ve done so well today, love. Too well. You need to eat and rest now.”
The more I think about it, the more pissed I am at all of us. For god’s sake, the woman had a full-blown mini-heat Sunday night, and we’re dragging her around every store in the city?
She’s hung in so well, we’re almost done. The only thing left is a mattress for the nest. And, for that, I can call the first furniture store and get the specifications for the one she picked for her bed to have a round replica made.
While I consider the possibilities, I run a hand over her hair, my palm catching the slight layer of sweat misting her forehead. Underneath, she’s warm.
No, hot.
My shoulders fly back, inadvertently pushing my groin into her abdomen. A thick burst of heat perfume instantly fills the space around us.
Goddamn it.
The others are walking ahead. Declan’s the closest to us. I grab the back of his collar, fisting it hard to get his attention. “Go tell Ronan we need someone to box all of this up and deliver it in the morning.” I slide my eyes to Meg meaningfully. “We need to go.”
I expect him to snap or roll his eyes, but instead they fly wide. His nostrils flare, spine straightening. “Fuck. Get her out of here. I don’t want anyone else to smell that.”
At least we finally agree on something.
Meg protests weakly while I lead her toward the automatic doors and out to the car. Grateful, for once, that Theo always forgets to lock the damn thing.
“I’m really okay,” Meg insists. It sounds like she’s starting to doubt herself. I don’t blame her. By the time we’re both situated in the wide backseat, she’s burning up.
“We’re just going to wait here while the guys check out,” I soothe, running my hand over the stretchy, light blue material covering her thigh.
“I didn’t finish the list,” she whimpers. “You all are so generous, and I didn’t even finish choosing stuff.”
She swallows her emotions as best she can, and I hate it. It’s completely normal for someone in her predicament to be more sensitive than usual. Hell, most alphas and betas would be wrung out after the week she’s had. In my professional opinion, she’s extremely resilient.
Or maybe just that scared to let us down.
The thought has me gathering her closer. I loathe the notion that she feels the need to impress us or run herself ragged to appease anyone. She clearly thinks this is some sort of trial run, as if the pack will sit down at the end of each day and report on how well she performs.
That sort of uncertainty must be eating her alive. The constant threat of judgment and rejection. I need to figure out a way to make her feel secure.
Her perfect perfume fills the car within seconds. Just like Sunday night— when she’s on the brink of a breakthrough, the scent is so wet, it almost feels like I could lick it out of the air. My body reacts instantly.
I’m already hard, knot half-swollen. She shimmies closer, her face seeking my throat. My scent. She breathes it deep, marking her own along my neck. Satisfaction pours through me.
My omega inhaling my scent. Leaving hers on my skin. A primal sort of possession rocks my core, leaving me even harder.
“Archer—” she starts, her voice wobbling as she licks my pulse.
I groan softly. “Tell me what you need, sweetheart. You can have anything.”
She stammers, trying to tell me what her body is already communicating. Her left leg hooks over both of mine, planting her firmly in my lap just as the driver’s door opens.
“Holy fuck.”
Ronan’s hiss barely registers. I’m losing my grip on our surroundings as Meg climbs me, her small hands clamped firmly on either side of my jaw to draw my mouth closer to hers.
“Heat-spike,” I manage to grit out.
Then her lips are on mine, and I’m gone.
