He grins. “I’m not saying it wouldn’t take a while. But I think we could manage.”
Court reaches out drawing my attention back to him as he the words embroidered on the cuff of my left arm.Pixie, Cor mea, Sunshine, Little bird, Bubbles, Killer.I think he mutters something like, “adorable.” While Thayer beams at me. A full on full wattage smile, that I was not in any way prepared for and that absolutely decimates my panties.
The lights overhead flicker. The storm raging outside, battering at the windows and the walls of the little cabana. But inside its warm and cozy. Homey and safe.
These alphas make me feel safe, I realize. I think we could be in the middle of a firefight, with bullets flying and I’d still feel completely at ease, safe in the knowledge that they wouldn’t let anything touch me.
And isn’t that a shame?
A spike of grief hits. If they could smell me, I’m sure they would sense it, but as it is, they can’t.
This is for them,I remind myself.This is to show them how to be a real pack. This night isn’t for me. They need to see what it could be like. Piers needs to see what it could be like.
“I-uh, I made dinner too,” I say as a distraction. “And I had them bring in a gaming system.”
Thayer tilts his head. “So the plan for tonight is to eat food you cooked while wearing pajamas you sewed for us, and curl up in the ne- blanket fort you made while we play video games?”
I shrug again, feeling that creeping uncertainty. “Pretty much. We could watch a movie instead of video games, I just thought… Look, I know it's not fancy. I know it’s not what you’re used to-”
“No,” Thayer cuts me off. “It’s not what we’re used to, killer. But it's so much better.”
“Oh, fuck yes,” Grieves growls, drawing my attention to the kitchen where he’s got a mini slider in each hand. “You made our favorites.”
My cheeks flush pink but I smile and nod. “I did. Piers told me about your guilty pleasure foods and I have to say I’m thankful it wasn’t something like foie gras or sushi. I wouldn’t have been able to handle making that. But greasy cheesy comfort food? That speaks to my omega on a cellular level.”
Thayer joins Grieves, looking over the spread. “What’s with the salad?”
I giggle because it is so out of place amidst the absolute gut bombs of everything else. “You know health or whatever. Just in case someone,” I slide my eyes over to Forsythe, “wasn’t up for obliterating his royal nutritionist diet.”
It’s actually one of my own favorite salads. Baby greens, pears, pecans, dried cranberries, goat cheese and a poppyseed vinaigrette. A little fancy. But not too much.
The pack laughs while Forsythe scowls at me. “I’m capable of having a cheat day or two.”
I hum. “Not sure I believe you. Duty above all else, right?” In the kitchen Grieves and Thayer are busy piling food onto plates, Court and Piers are working out drinks, leaving me and Sythe relatively alone.
He frowns, almost like he wants to argue with me, but knows he can’t.
“Go easy on him, killer,” Thayer calls over. “He’s had the importance of duty pounded into him over and over again over the years.”
“Is that what you’re calling your cock these days? Duty?” Court quips, and I very nearly swallow my tongue.
Wait… what? Is he saying that Thayer and Forsythe…?
I look up at the prince with wide eyes and pink cheeks, as images of the two of them together invade my mind and if I wasn’t taking enough suppressants for an entire ballet troupe, I am one hundred percent sure I would have perfumed enough to fill the entire cabana, regardless of the descenter in the air.
I only come back to myself when Grieves presses a full plate into my hands. I blink down at it, then up at him. The smile he gives me is soft and tender as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “You’ve clearly been working on this all day. Sit down and eat, bubbles.”
I swallow thickly, a protest on the tip of my tongue, but Court strolls by with a full plate of his own and catches my wrist, tugging me over with him to the fort. “Come on, Pixie. Let’s eat.”
But he hesitates at the edge of the fort, eyeing it with appreciation, before he looks at me. “Can I enter the nest, omega?”
My tongue suddenly feel thick and my plate wobbles as I take a shaky breath. “It-it’s not a nest,” I croak in protest. “It’s just a fort.”
“Could have fooled me,” he mutters before rephrasing. “Is it okay if I enter this very beautiful and perfect blanket fort, Pix?”
My inner omega preens at the compliment and I hadn’t realized until this moment—likely because I’ve been lying to myself—that I’d been worried that they wouldn’t like it, the fort. And apparently I also needed them to ask for permission, just like I would for my nest at home.
I swallow, nod, and try to sound entirely nonchalant. “Yeah, of course. I made it for you.”
