AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“A complete figment of Micah’s imagination, just like that story,” I declare. There are more than a few embarrassing stories about me that Mason and Micah could share. Best to nip that in the bud early. “In fact, Micah’s a compulsive liar. Let’s set a rule now that you won’t believe a single thing he tells you about our childhood.”
“You mean things like how your brothers liked to play ‘pack,’ and they’d force you to be the omega, and you’d spend hours making sure you got the nest just r— Ooumphhff.”
I press my hand against Micah’s mouth to cut him off, but the damage is done. Lucky for my beta, Espy is laughing sweetly.
“Payback’s a bitch,” I mock-growl at him.
Mason comes to my rescue, reaching over to tug Micah out of my grasp and out of the kitchen.
“Wait!” Espy says, rushing forward and rifling through the pile of stuff I unloaded from her bags. “I brought stuff for you. Here.” She hands a small stack of pages to Micah, and another to Mason. “Just some drafts of the new panels we were working on, and a practice sketch of that gift for your mom,” she explains, looking a bit shy about the last part. I watch as she unconsciously tucks her hair behind her ears and steps back.
“You’re making something for Mason?” I question, eyeing my packmate suspiciously. This is news to me.
Mason explains he asked Espy to help with a gift for his mom, and Micah, predictably, pouts about not being able to compete with his own gift. I tune them out, ready to go back to baking and back to my excuse to have some one-on-one time with Espy. The two eventually scatter, presumably retreating to their rooms, and Espy spreads out the recipes she printed off along the counter. They’re all cakes and look reasonably straightforward to make.
“Piece of cake,” I say, loving when I earn an eye roll for my terrible pun. “Which do you want to make?”
“Hmmmm ...” She bites at her lip as she studies the pages closely. “How are your decorating skills?”
“Yours for the taking,” I flirt. “And I’d rate them at more than halfway decent.”
Another eye roll, and I feel like I’ve won the lottery. Or at least ten bucks in one of those scratch offs.
“Wait, shouldn’t you be really good at decorating, cause of being all artsy and stuff?”
“Frosting is not my medium.” Her lips twist into a faint pout, and I take a second to imagine what they’d taste like pressed up against mine.
We end up deciding on a chocolate caramel cake, settling into easy teamwork. I tell her a bit about my family, knowing from talking to Mason and Micah she’s curious about pack dynamics. I might also take the opportunity to slip in a bunch of embarrassing stories about the two Hayes brothers. In the spirit of evening the playing field and all. I’m not the only one in this pack with older siblings. I ask a little bit about her family, but I know it’s a sensitive topic, so other than getting a few stories about her brother’s birthdays growing up we mostly stick with my family.
“Wait, you’re telling me each of you has younger twin siblings?” She looks up at me with a furrowed brow, pausing in the middle of stirring the batter.
“Well, it’s the same set for Mason and Micah.” I shrug.
“So their sisters are sixteen years old, and yours are ...?”
“My brother and sister are fourteen. They were a surprise for my good old mom and dads. Probably a disappointment too after having the universe’s best kid.” I gesture to myself with exaggerated arrogance as I waggle my eyebrows. That’s three eye-rolls now.Score!
“My goodness, your poor mother,” Espy clucks with sympathy, turning back to the batter. “And your poor sister! Being the only girl and having to grow up with five alpha brothers must have driven her insane.”
“Four, actually,” I correct her, taking the opportunity to dart my hand in and steal some of the batter when she turns to look at me questioningly. “Only four of us are alphas. My younger brother presented as an omega about a year ago.”
“Oh,” she says, looking thoughtful. “That’s pretty rare, right? For there to be a male omega.”
“I betcha Mason would have the exact statistics for you, but yeah, they aren’t super common. Not as rare as female alphas, though, and there’s one of those in my family tree. Maybe you’ll meet him,” I add, trying not to sound as eager as I feel at the thought of Espy being around my family. “The twins tend to come spend a weekend or two with us during the year. My older brothers and I take turns getting them out of the house when my mom goes into heat.”
I don’t realize my mistake at first, but when I feel Espy go still beside me I immediately freeze. I quickly run back through what I said. Was referencing my parents’ sex lives crossing a line? Was I unintentionally presumptuous that she’d want to meet my family???
Then it hits me. I mentioned my mom going intoheat.
Idiot!
“Espy, sorry, I—”
I go to hold her but end up pulling back. She has her arms curled around her stomach like I’ve seen her do on occasion when she’s feeling nervous or insecure. Her eyes are squeezed shut and she looks to be shaking slightly. My arm hangs uselessly between us, and not knowing what else to do, I end up shoving my hand into the back pocket of my jeans. Her beautiful scent sours, and that base knowledge that there’s a distressed omega right in front of me, and that I triggered that distress, is enough to send my instincts spiraling.
My eyes start darting around frantically, making sure Espy is safe and the perimeter is secure. Then I’m tugging her backward and moving her into a corner, gently, putting unnecessary distance between her and the preheating oven she was standing next to. Like a compulsion, I also look around to reassure myself all the knives are put away in the knife block. Next, I find myself at the fridge, pulling out the jug of filtered water we keep in there and pouring her a glass. Then I realize she might find tea more comforting, so I switch gears and throw some water in the kettle and set it to boil.
By the time Mason comes walking down the stairs a minute or so later, I’m elbows-deep in a cabinet trying to find some of the tea my mother gave me at the start of term, babbling about the different snacks we have around that I could feed her.
