“Get undressed,” he orders.
I slip out of my pink and red stripe pajamas. Thatcher’s blue eyes rake over my naked body. “You are the most beautiful omega I’ve ever seen.”
“Thatcher,” I purr, blushing under his heated gaze.
Talking to Nana everyday helps keeps me from losing my shit. I hadn’t told her Dustin and Sawyer are missing. Can’t have her worrying too. I want Dustin and Sawyer here now.
He leans over and sucks a nipple into his mouth as he palms my ass lifting me off my feet. I grip his biceps to keep steady. Carefully he lowers me into the tub while still sucking my breast. So strong and gifted. He releases my nipple and kisses my lips.
Thatcher kneels on the side of the tub, picks up a loofah and rubs it up and down my arms. The silky bubbles smell like rich lavender.
My gaze moves around the edges of the tub. “I see you managed to buy all my favorite bath products.”
He smirks. “I didn’t personally grab them. But I knew what to tell my assistant Leta to pick up.”
“Thank you, Thatcher. You are working your way back into my heart.”
“Being an asshole to you was a dick move. Now all I want to do is spoil you and make sure you understand I’ll kill anyone to protect you.”
He kisses my nose. “I have to help Archer view camera footage from the night Dustin and Sawyer disappeared.”
“Okay,” I say. The unease is eating me from the inside out.
Thatcher closes the door behind him.
Gnawing on my lower lip, I sink lower into the bubbles.
I just got my alphas back. They have to return to me.
***
Curled up in my nest, I attempt to lose myself in one of the books Dustin downloaded to the new Kindle he bought me. But it’s impossible to focus on thrilling romantic suspense when two of your fated mates are nowhere to be found. With a frustrated sigh, I let the Kindle slip from my hands and burrow deeper into my soft, fluffy blankets.
“Yeah, well your father fucking shot me,” a furious voice bellows from downstairs.
I leap out of bed and rush down the stairs.
Thatcher slumps in a chair, elbows resting on his knees, fingers tangled tightly in his hair.
Sawyer and Dustin pace the living room, their eyes locked on Archer with their backs turned toward me.
Sawyer runs his fingers through his tangled brown hair. “He tried to kill us. He’s a fucking dead man.”
You guys are back?” I whisper, stunned.
Dustin and Sawyer spin around to meet my gaze. My hands shoot to my mouth as tears spill freely down my cheeks. Blood seeps slowly through the makeshift bandage wrapped around Dustin’s arm. I step forward, taking in their state—their clothes damp, rumpled, and worn, like they’d been lost for a week, not just two days.
Gently, I lift my hands to caress their cheeks, and they purr softly beneath my touch.
“I understand you guys have a lot to talk about, but I need to treat Dustin’s arm.”
When I was fifteen my dad and I were out having lunch. He got a call that his brother had been shot during a hunting accident. There was no time to drop me off at home. He drove to Atlanta. I helped Dad sew up Uncle Joes thigh after he removed the buck shots.
“I need to get back out there and finish this once and for all,” Dustin says.
“After I patch you up,” I tell him.
All right, fine.”
