Des sets the bottles and crackers on the table before picking up one of the waters and cracking the lid for me.
“I can open my own water,” I tease.
“We should have been doting on you like this from the start.”
After taking a long draw from the bottle, I wipe the back of my hand across my lips and shake my head. “I wasn’t technically your omega. I was your…incubator.” It’s meant as a tease, but saying the word not only sounds gross but earns a frown from Des and a growl from Alex.
CHAPTER 44
Desmond
“It started getting stronger a couple weeks ago. But have you noticed his perfume seems to be carrying hints of each of us?”
I glance at Alex, barely catching his grin as we pass under a streetlight before the cab goes dark again.
“Yeah. His tonka and plum are still the strongest,” he says. “But sometimes he walks by, and I get my smoke, then the next second it’s your hazelnut chocolate, and I swear there’s this sharp little note that’s purely Mason’s peppermint.”
My chest warms. “I thought I was imagining it.”
“You never imagine anything,” Alex says. “You read it somewhere, forgot you read it, then report it as fact.”
I huff, but he’s not wrong. “I did read something like that. Pregnant omegas sometimes carry the signatures of the alphas who bred them. But this feels… different.”
“How?”
“He smells like home,” I say quietly. “Like the whole pack at once.”
Alex is silent for a beat, then exhales slowly. “Yeah. That.”
Traffic thins as we turn onto the road that leads to the house. The familiar security lights flick on in sequence when the SUV glides through the gate. I feel my shoulders drop a fraction. No matter what I tell myself about being rational and patient, I can’t really breathe until I’m back where Hudson is.
Alex rests his head against the window and stares at the house as we roll closer. “You think we’re smothering him yet?”
“With the contractors, the shopping, and the constant hovering?” I shake my head. “Not yet. Give it another week.”
He laughs under his breath. “Good. I plan to hover harder.”
We park in the garage and climb out. The moment I open the interior door, warm scents hit me. Amy has something in the oven, probably for tomorrow. There’s coffee lingering from earlier, furniture polish, fresh laundry.
Beneath all of that, like a ribbon tying it together, is Hudson.
I feel him before I see him. That faint tug under my sternum tightens.
We move through the house together, our footsteps echoing softly over the hardwood. As we pass the formal living room, there’s a folded stack of tiny onesies on the coffee table, tags still on, pastel colors and ridiculous prints. I slow and brush my fingertips over one of them. The cartoon dinosaurs grin up at me.
Triplets.
Three small bodies in clothes like this. Three heartbeats. Three little heads tucked against Hudson’s chest while he glares at us for fussing too much.
My throat goes tight as emotion clogs it. Three babies. My omega.
I am living the dream life I never believed could happen.
“Come on,” Alex says gently.
We reach the omega quarters and I knock once, then push the door open. The lights are dim, a soft yellow glow shines from the bedroom.
We step into his bedroom to find blankets spill over the side in a messy pile, and in the middle of it all, Hudson is propped against the headboard. He’s made a sort of nest out of the bedding.
