"Jessica." I test the word on my tongue. "Right. Jessica Delacroix. Twenty-eight years old. Omega. Former runaway bride. Current... whatever this is."
"This is pack." Nacho's voice cuts through the room, low and certain.
I turn my head toward the armchair by the window, where he's been keeping watch for the past hour. He's wearing jeans and nothing else, bare feet propped on the ottoman, dark eyes fixed on me that makes heat pool between my thighs.
Which is inconvenient, because I desperately need a break.
My body has other ideas.
"Pack." I roll the word around, tasting it. "Is that what we're calling this? Four alphas and one very overwhelmed omega sharing a nest?"
"That's exactly what we're calling it." Sergio appears in the doorway, carrying a tray loaded with food. He's in a white t-shirt and grey sweatpants, feet bare, looking more relaxed than I've ever seen him. The permanent furrow between his brows has smoothed out. He almost looks young. "You need to eat."
"I ate two hours ago."
"You ate half a granola bar." He sets the tray on the nightstand, and my stomach growls at the smell of bacon and eggs and fresh toast. "That doesn't count."
"Fine." I push myself up to sitting, wincing at the ache in muscles I didn't know I had. "But only because that bacon smells like heaven and I'm too tired to argue."
Carlos shifts beneath me, propping himself against the headboard so I can lean against his chest while I eat. His arms wrap around my waist, chin resting on my shoulder, watching as Sergio hands me a plate.
"Where's Pedro?"
"Shower." Sergio settles onto the edge of the bed, his thigh presses against my leg. "He'll be back."
I bite into a strip of bacon and groan out loud, like a person who's never tasted food before.
"Good?" Carlos's laugh vibrates against my back.
"So good." I shovel eggs into my mouth, abandoning all pretense of table manners. "I think my taste buds are heightened or something. Everything is more... more."
"Heat does that." Nacho rises from the armchair and crosses to the bed, folding himself onto the mattress near my feet. "All your senses are amplified. Touch, taste, smell. It's your omega's way of bonding with your pack."
"My omega has been very busy bonding." I polish off the eggs and reach for the toast. "My omega needs a vacation."
"Almost over." Sergio's hand finds my knee, thumb rubbing circles through the blanket. "Another twelve hours, maybe less. Your cycles are spacing out."
"Thank God." I slump against Carlos's chest. "Don't get me wrong, the orgasms have been spectacular, but I'm pretty sure I've lost several pounds."
"Yeah?" Carlos nips at my earlobe, rough fingers tracing lazy circles on my hip. “You told me where you wanted my—"
"Stop. I'm eating."
"Just giving credit where credit's due." His laugh rumbles through his chest into my back. "You got a mouth on you when you're desperate."
My face catches fire. "There are four of you. I'm one person. That’s not fair.”
Nacho's mouth does this tiny twitch thing. Which is basically him dying laughing on the inside.
The bathroom door opens in a cloud of steam that smells like pine and mint. Pedro walks out wearing clean scrubs, hair stilldamp, looking stupidly put together for someone who was doing very unprofessional things to me four hours ago.
I want to climb him like a tree. Again. Even though everything below my waist has filed a formal complaint.
"Hey." I wave my bagel at him. "I'm fine. You can stop hovering."
But he's already at the bedside, fingers wrapping around my wrist. Taking my pulse like I'm one of his patients instead of the woman who had her ankles by her ears while he—
"Heart rate's elevated." His thumb strokes the inside of my wrist. Definitely not a medical technique. "You feeling okay? Any dizziness? Nausea?"
