Quentin stood there a long time, his packmates on either side of him, just staring and breathing it all in. The house was perfect with the omegas’ sweet scents mixing with the familiar, comforting scent of pack. It was what he’d sensed when he’d stepped into the foyer with Bianca asleep in his arms. The missing pieces of a puzzle snapping into place.
Bianca and Callum were theirs. Pack King was meant to havebothof these magnificent omegas.
“I mean this in the best possible way, my dudes, but we are so fucked,” Van whispered.
“Supremely,” Dante agreed.
Quentin nodded toward the door. He didn’t want to wake the omegas. They needed their rest after all the evening’s fun, not to mention what was in store for them tomorrow. He led his packmates from the room, closing the door quietly behind them.
“What are we going to do about it?” Dante asked, as soon as they’d settled in the living room.
“What do you want to do?” Quentin countered, already knowing the answer. He could see it in Dante’s eyes, could smell it in Van’s scent, and feel it humming through the bond. But he needed to hear them say it. “I would never make such a huge decision without you both being in total agreement.”
Van smirked, his eyes going soft. “Don’t you think we know that, King? We trust you, and I’m pretty sure you know we’re on the exact same page you are, down to the punctuation marks.”
Dante nodded in agreement. “Those omegas are ours. Now tell us the plan for how we’re going to make sure they know it. Our snake lady won’t be charmed easily.”
Quentin grinned, feeling a rush of excitement. This was the adrenaline that came with strategizing before a critical mission. And there was no way he would allow this one to fail.
Quentin looked at his packmates and knew that they were every bit as committed as he was. The flush of excitement settled, cooling into a calculating clarity. He began to lay out the plan.
An hour later, Pack King returned to the bedroom, where the rightness of the omegas in their bed only further cemented their resolve. Callum had rolled onto his back, his mouth open, and one arm draped dramatically across his eyes. Bianca had curled onto her side and buried her face in Quentin’s pillow, which gave him an intense surge of satisfaction.
“Dibs on the middle!” Van whisper-yelled, stripping down to his boxers. Somehow, he managed to wriggle his way into the center of the bed, snuggling between the two omegas. Even in their sleep, they were drawn to the alpha and immediately molded their bodies to his. Van looked like a kid in a candy store. “Holy shit, this is awesome.”
Dante gave a low chuckle, then shucked his own clothes and slid into bed behind Callum. Quentin stood for another long moment, basking in it all. Two beautiful omegas, two gorgeous alphas, a new home, a thriving business. A decade ago, he couldn’t have imagined such a life.
Quentin slipped into bed behind Bianca and soon fell asleep, his bed and his heart completely full.
Quentin had always been an early riser, which had only intensified during his time in the military. When he woke the following morning, however, he lingered for an uncharacteristically long time, inhaling thescent of his pack, and watching over them. Everything he loved was in that bed, and Quentin would protect it with his very last breath.
At first light, he slipped out of bed and made his way to the kitchen. Methodically, he started the coffeemaker and arranged ingredients on the island. Cooking always calmed him. He loved the orderliness of it, the fact that when you followed procedures exactly and meticulously, your food always turned out as expected. And he loved that when you were finished, you had something to share with the people around you, something that would allow them at least a few minutes of warmth and pleasure, and the energy they needed to face the world.
He didn’t even have to think about what he would make; the occasion called for what Van and Dante had deemed “fancy French toast”. In actuality, it was apple cinnamon French toast with a caramel drizzle. They only teased him about it because it was admittedly one of the most elaborate dishes in his repertoire. Quentin usually opted for simple, hearty meals that yielded lots of leftovers.
Growing up, he’d often only had a full belly in his dreams. He’d learned to make meals out of practically nothing but had enjoyed the rare instances when a friend or foster parent let him help in the kitchen. As much as he enjoyed the process of cooking, he still thought of food in terms of necessity.
Yet, here he was, making his rare indulgent meal, one that was style over substance. It looked pretty but took more time to prepare than it was worth. Or, at least, that’s how his practical brain had always framed it. Today, however, it felt more than worthwhile. He wanted to serve his omegas something pretty and sweet, like them.
Quentin grinned ruefully to himself as he whipped eggs. Countess would skewer him if he ever called her sweet, even though she was, in her own way. Quentin saw it in the way Van had described her cutting upthose rich bitches at the country club with her sharp tongue when they’d dared to talk shit about Callum. Or how Quentin had overheard her talking the Tweedles up to her wealthy associates, ensuring they’d have endless options for new clients after their tenure with her, even though she’d never say such nice things to their faces. It was in the way she smiled at Van’s jokes, as long as he wasn’t looking, and how she found excuses to introduce Dante to people who just happened to be in the market for private security. His Countess didn’t like a lot of people, and her respect was hard won, but once she chose you, she would take care of you. Bianca Bonnycastle was a poison apple, but fuck was she sweet.
Callum was another matter entirely. His sweetness was right there on top, and it soaked right through to the center. His smart mouth and biting humor were a carefully cultivated shield that Quentin saw right through. He’d been mistreated and cast aside, so he’d had to hold back the huge reservoir of love he carried around, just waiting to pour out for the right people.
Quentin would make sure both of his omegas had a safe place to show their softer sides. He would make sure they were cared for like royalty and fucked like whores. He would make sure they had everything they needed and everything they never knew they wanted.
“Fancy French toast, huh?” Dante swaggered into the kitchen, his dark hair sexily sleep-tousled but his eyes bright and teasing. “I see we’re pulling out the big guns right away.”
Quentin huffed a laugh. “After breathing in those omegas all night, I had a taste for it. Seems like it was meant for those two. Did I wake you?”
Dante wrapped his arms around Quentin from behind, resting his head on Quentin’s shoulder for a moment, watching the sausages sizzle in the skillet. They’d stood in front of the stove like this many times but today it felt different. Everything felt new.
“I couldn’t stay in there much longer without being tempted to fuck one of them awake, and then their breakfast would get cold.” Dante released Quentin with a playful peck on the neck, then began to dig through the cabinets. “I’ll set the table.”
“Thanks, babe.” The men moved around each other with practiced ease, putting the finishing touches on the meal and laying out the spread with extra care. Quentin checked his phone to see a perfectly timed message from Maude. “The Tweedles will be here in a minute with things for Countess, and Callum has an overnight bag in his trunk. Run down and grab everything, would you?”
Quentin had messaged Bianca’s assistants before he went to bed, requesting whatever she’d need to stay overnight comfortably and directing them to clear her calendar for the day. He appreciated how Maude and Amelia didn’t ask any questions, simply promising to bring her a bag first thing in the morning. Quentin was looking forward to arguing with Bianca about it over breakfast.
He hadn’t had to tell Callum to bring his things. They’d checked the omega’s car the first time he paid Bianca a visit. When Quentin had clocked the go bag in his trunk, Callum had said something saucy about good boys always being prepared and batted his long lashes. The little brat had been trouble from the start.
