“That was one time.”
“You burned. Water.”
“The pot was defective.”
“Nate, keep him out of my kitchen.”
Nate grunts in agreement. Lucas looks mildly offended.
I laugh. Can’t help it.
All three of them turn to look at me like I’ve done something amazing.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Theo’s grin softens. “Just missed that sound.”
Oh.
Okay.
I’m not going to cry about breakfast banter at nine in the morning. I’m a grown woman. I write spicy romance novels for a living. I have dignity.
The dignity lasts approximately four seconds before my eyes get suspiciously wet.
“Breakfast,” Nate says, and scoops me up like I weigh nothing.
The kitchen is chaos.Good chaos.
Theo commandeers the stove while Lucas hovers uselessly and Nate refuses to let me do anything except sit at the table and drink coffee.
“I can help?—”
“Sit.”
“I’m not dying.”
“You’re pre-heat.” He presses a mug into my hands. Made exactly the way I like it, because of course he remembers. “Sit.”
I sit.
Through the bond, I feel his anticipation buzzing underneath the protectiveness. He wants this—not just me, but all of it. Me here, in this kitchen, with his pack. What’s coming.
I’ve written this moment a hundred times. The omega finally claiming her alphas. The pack bonds snapping into place one by one. I just never thought I’d actually live it.
“Food’s ready,” Theo announces, sliding a plate in front of me. Fluffy scrambled eggs, perfectly golden toast, crispy bacon arranged in a little smiley face.
“Did you make my breakfast smile at me?”
“I’m a nurturer.”
“You’re ridiculous,” Lucas says, sliding into the seat beside me. “Eat. You need protein.”
“Medical opinion?”
“Common sense.”
A thump from the doorway announces Mr. Darcy’s arrival. My orange tabby surveys the kitchen with the disdain of a smallfurry dictator, ignores Lucas and Theo completely, and makes a beeline for Nate.
