“You’re smiling again,” Dante said as he brushed past Quentin to head downstairs. “Be careful or you’re going to get a cramp. You’re not used to using those cheek muscles so much.”
Quentin hadn’t even realized he’d been smiling to himself. He smacked Dante’s ass. “Quiet, you, before I putyourcheek muscles to work. Hurry up and get back up here. I’m about to plate the food.”
Soon enough, everything was prepared and Quentin called the late sleepers into the kitchen. Callum stumbled in wearing only boxer briefsand an undershirt that fit him like a second skin. He dropped into a chair across from Dante, looking around with bleary eyes.
“My god, do people actually wake up at this hour on purpose?” he demanded huskily, gratefully accepting the coffee Quentin handed him and taking a long sip. “God, yes! This is exactly how I like it. How did you know?”
Quentin shrugged. “That’s my job. We’re going to have to work on your coffee order though. If I’m taking care of you, we’re reducing your sugar intake. Four is a bit excessive.”
Callum smirked. “I like my coffee like I like my lovers. Strong and sweet.”
Dante snorted a laugh and Callum batted his lashes at Quentin just as he had all those weeks ago, before they knew how much everything was about to change for the better.
Quentin crossed the kitchen to pour another cup of coffee. “You really are a brat, aren’t you, Trouble?”
Callum giggled and Quentin found he enjoyed the sound of it. He hadn’t allowed himself to think too much about the handsome omega at first, beyond ensuring Bianca’s safety, but gradually he’d noticed more and more things he liked about Callum. Obviously, he was drop dead gorgeous—Quentin could see the resemblance to supermodel Talia Clifton in Callum’s hooded amber eyes, killer cheekbones, and perfect jawline—but there was more to him than his remarkable looks. Callum Clifton-Merriwether was funny and perceptive and loyal. He balanced out Bianca’s prickliness in just the right way.
Speaking of the devil, Bianca padded into the kitchen next, looking uncharacteristically casual and a little self-conscious in one of Dante’s t-shirts. It fell to just above mid-thigh and her legs looked long and toned stretching out from beneath it. Quentin had to fight the urge to throwher on the table and devour her. When she noticed all the men watching her, she blushed and scowled, before perching stiffly on the edge of the seat next to Callum.
“I can’t believe I slept all night,” she muttered, trying in vain to smooth down her bedhead. “You should’ve woken me. I wasn’t at all prepared for a sleepover.”
Quentin placed her black coffee in front of her with a dismissive grunt. “You needed the rest, and we weren’t done with you yet. Still aren’t, actually. So, drink your coffee and stop whining before I give you something to whine about.”
Bianca scowled harder, but her poison apple scent grew thicker in the air, putting Quentin’s French toast to shame. He knew it turned the feisty little omega on when he talked rough, and he relished her reactions to his dominance. A wave of heady pride washed over him when she obediently lifted her coffee cup to her perfect lips.
Callum shuddered, his beautiful face twisted in disgust. “God, Queenie, I don’t know how you drink that garbage! You might as well guzzle diesel fuel.”
Bianca smirked, taking another long drink. “Not all of us are delicate flowers, pet. I grew up dipping kringla in black coffee every morning, like a proper Norwegian. It was one of the few foods Astrid actually prepared herself. We used to eat our kringla and drink ourrealcoffee and tease my fathers about their cream and sugar. I’ve never taken it any other way.”
“BB likes her coffee like she likes her men. Black and strong. Right, King?” Van plopped into the seat on Bianca’s other side, smiling from ear to ear. “Besides, I’m all the sugar our girl needs.”
Quentin rolled his eyes, but he loved how happy his packmates were to have the omegas in their home. He could get used to this, himself. Hewouldget used to it, as a matter of fact, because he would do whateverit took to keep this vibrant, full new life that had opened up for them when Pack Bonnycastle signed the contract with King’s Guard. No one had expected Bianca’s protection to become so much more than a job, but now Quentin couldn’t imagine life unfolding any other way.
When he sat down to eat breakfast, the beast that paced inside his chest settled into a contented doze. He watched Callum do a happy dance in his chair when he took his first bite of French toast, then heard Bianca’s contented little hum when she tasted hers. He felt Dante’s and Van’s pleasure pulsing through the pack bond. Their scents mixed in the air around them, creating the most wonderful combination Quentin had ever smelled.
This was the family he had searched for his whole life. It’s what he’d fought for, what he’d killed for, what he’d waited for, what he’d prayed he’d find in each new foster home, and what he’d glimpsed for the first time when he first laid eyes on Dante.
This was his pack. His home.
“I’m going to be too full to have anything at brunch in a few hours,” Bianca complained, pulling Quentin from his reverie. She frowned at her ridiculous watch, dark brows knitting together, and shoulders climbing up her neck with obvious tension. “I’ll have to leave soon to get ready.”
“You’re not going to brunch today,” Quentin replied, carefully cutting his sausage into identical pieces. “I told you we weren’t done with you. You and Callum are spending the day with us. We aren’t the only ones who need a break from life at the penthouse.”
Bianca’s head snapped toward him and Quentin could almost see the sharp retort forming on the tip of her tongue before she caught herself and clamped her mouth shut. He tried not to smile. She was learning quickly, his Countess.
“That sounds lovely, but I haven’t spoken with Amelia and Maude and I’m not sure I can clear my schedule,” she said after taking a deep breath. Despite her calm words, her gunmetal gray eyes still flashed angrily in that way Quentin loved so much.
He absolutely loved her eyes. Most of the time they were impenetrable steel, hiding untold treasures behind a veneer of ice. Other times they were storm clouds foretelling impending destruction and disaster. And sometimes, very few precious times, they were tumultuous gray waves, pulling him under, inviting him to get lost in their depths.
“Are you arguing with me omega?” he asked in a low voice.
Bianca’s eyes widened. She tried to frown but only managed to look adorably flustered. “No, King.”
“Are you implying that I don’t know what my omegas need?”
“No, King,” she ground out through gritted teeth, her glare absolutely murderous now.
Quentin didn’t mind her anger. She would learn eventually. She would accept his care just like she accepted his dick: whenever and however he deemed appropriate. He was going to take care of Bianca Bonnycastle in every way for the rest of his life and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.
