Deep and claiming, his hand sliding from my neck into my hair, tilting my head back. I open for him automatically, years of pack intimacy making the response instinctive.
When he pulls back, his eyes are dark. Determined.
"I've been in love with her since the day Callum introduced us," he says. “All those years, watching her with him."
From the stove, Nacho's voice: "Same."
We both turn to look at him. He's still stirring the stew, face impassive, but his scent tells the truth. Dark sugar and ironwood, threaded with old pain.
"The night of the kiss," he says, staring at the empty glass. "I went inside. Told everyone I was getting more drinks. Really I left because I couldn't stand watching anymore." He looks up, and there's raw honesty in his eyes. "Watching her laugh at yourjokes, Carlos. Watching her look at you like you hung the moon. I wanted to be the one she looked at like that. I hated myself for it."
The confession settles over us like a blanket.
Four alphas. One omega. Six years of pretending.
"We're so pathetic," I say, but I'm smiling. Can't help it. "Four grown men mooning over the same woman for almost a decade. We're like a bad romance novel."
"Speak for yourself," Pedro mutters, but his mouth twitches.
"We tried to move on," Nacho says, turning off the burner. "The Knot.Me app. Those omega mixers in the city. That group date Pedro set up where the omega brought her emotional support ferret."
"We agreed never to speak of the ferret," Pedro growls.
"My point is," Nacho continues, "we tried. All of us. And nothing worked because we kept comparing everyone to Jessica."
The truth of it rings through the kitchen.
This is why we're incomplete. Not because we're too picky, but because no one compares to Jessica. And now she’s an omega, she’s just perfect. She can handle our knots. We don’t have to worry or hold back like we did before.”
"So what do we do?" I ask, looking around at my pack. My brothers. "She's back. She's single. She's going into heat in two weeks. Do we just... I don't know. Show up with flowers? Build her a hope chest? What?"
"A hope chest?" Sergio raises an eyebrow.
"I'm a carpenter. It's what I do. I build things." I throw up my hands. "I don't know how to court an omega who's scared of me."
"She's not scared of you," Sergio says gently. "She's scared of what you represent. Of wanting something she thinks she can't have."
"How do you know?"
"Because I saw her face yesterday when she drove through town. She wasn't running from something, Carlos. She was running toward something." His eyes are distant. "Toward us."
I want to believe him. God, I want to believe him so badly my chest hurts with it.
But I remember her eyes on the sidewalk. The panic. The way she bolted like I was a threat instead of someone who would do anything, build anything, be anything if it meant making her happy.
"What if I mess it up again? What if I push too hard?" Nacho's voice is calm, certain. "You won't. But even if you did—then we wait. We've waited six years..."
"I hate waiting."
"I know." Sergio's hand moves from my neck to my shoulder, squeezing. "But it's what we have to do. Let her set the pace. Let her come to us when she's ready."
"And Callum?" The name tastes bitter.
"Callum stopped being our friend the moment he decided to control her instead of love her." Sergio's voice is hard. Final. "If he comes to Largo Waters, if he tries to take her back, we stop him."
"I'll build her a fortress if that's what it takes," I say, and I'm only half joking. "Walls six feet thick. Guard tower. Moat with alligators."
"That seems excessive," Pedro says, but he's almost smiling.
