Ferris and Hill were arrogant enough to think they’d known about all the building’s cameras and security measures. They hadn’t accounted for the additional units King’s Guard had installed in all the shared spaces on the property. By the time Callum had called to alert Dante of the danger, Pack King’s plan was already in motion. Still, Quentin hated that those fuckers had managed to lay so much as a finger on his omegas.
He’d quietly broken all of those fingers while they waited for the FBI transport to arrive. With the bags over their heads and Dante’s and Van’s hands covering their mouths and noses, Ferris and Hill hardly made a sound. The whole pack had felt much better by the time they’d sat down to have it out with Pack Bonnycastle. Listening to his Countess stand up for herself and claim her pack had been the final balm he’d needed to soothe his raging soul.
In the two weeks since, he’d devoted his time to ensuring everything was ready for his omegas to come home, where he’d keep them safe forever. The pack had spent every night together since the day their omegas said yes, but they needed to get them settled permanently in the packhouse ASAP. His instincts demanded it. Quentin threw himself into the arrangements with his usual methodical resoluteness. He was determined to provide anything his omegas wanted or needed to make the packhouse feel like home.
He wasn’t the only one. Van had put his carpentry skills to the test and far exceeded Quentin’s expectations. He’d converted a room they’d hardly used into what he was calling the “Royal Roost.” It now held shelves full of Bianca’s murder mysteries and Callum’s romance novels, coexisting alongside his histories, Van’s westerns, and Dante’s thrillers. They’d brought in a few tables and plenty of cozy seating and devoted one whole wall to Lilith’s terrarium. It was a comfortable space where they’d be able to relax and while away the hours, lost in their books.
However, the really impressive parts of the Roost were those that were invisible to the untrained eye. They’d wanted to make sure Callum and Bianca had their own spaces, so they’d created smaller, private nests for each omega. At one end of the room, a panel in a false wall revealed a curtained nook behind Lilith’s tank. The nook itself was adorned in fairy lights and full of cushions and pillows, with blackout curtains tocover the glass whenever Bianca wanted. Van had also somehow crafted a transparent low ceiling that connected to the tank, allowing for Lilith to slither overhead and keep her owner company. The little nook also had built-in shelves to hold books or snacks or whatever else Bianca might want on hand.
On the opposite end of the room, a sliding barn door hid a spacious window seat with its own curtains, cushions, pillows, and built-in shelves. Van had crafted the door himself from reclaimed pinewood and even used stencils to hand paint it with plums, orchids, chrysanthemums and bamboo shoots. It was absolutely gorgeous craftsmanship, and it made Quentin damn proud. Both nests had turned out as perfect matches for his omegas. He couldn’t wait to see their faces when they revealed the finished products.
He wouldn’t have to wait much longer, as Callum had moved the last of his things in the night before, and Bianca wasn’t far behind. It was funny that the day her parents had planned to shackle her to that pack of arrogant old timers turned out to be the day she would officially move in with Pack King.
Though Quentin knew they were short on time, he’d decided it was best to let Bianca handle oversight of the movers. It was a huge step for her to give up her place to live with them, and he figured she needed to feel some control over the situation. However, when he walked into her bedroom, he quickly realized they’d cut things a little too close.
The room smelled like poison apple pie, fresh out of the oven and saturating the air invitingly. Quentin’s instincts sharpened, the beast in his chest stirring restlessly. He pulled out his cell phone, shooting off a quick text to his packmates.
Asses and elbows, boys. Code Green. It’s go time.
“If I find so much as a loose thread on one of my cocktail dresses, I will personally exsanguinate every employee of your little company, down to the custodial staff,” Bianca was saying, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at a couple of beta men who, despite being significantly larger than his omega, were cowering behind an overstuffed clothes rack. “I made it quite clear from the beginning that each item should be individually bagged for transit and yet I walk in today to see multiple hangers sticking out of a single garment bag and a strange alpha touching my Connor McKnight slip dress!”
Luckily for the terrified movers, the Tweedles were nodding along sympathetically, one using the rolling rack to push the frightened men out of the room, the other distracting Bianca with a fresh line of questioning. Both assistants looked relieved to see Quentin. He suppressed a smile.
“We’ve switched to a beta-only moving crew,” Amelia whispered as she passed him, casting a wary glance over her shoulder. “And I hope it wasn’t too presumptuous of me, but I went ahead and gave Teresa a heads up to initiate the other arrangements. I thought you might have your hands full.”
Quentin followed Amelia’s gaze to his mate, who was currently glaring daggers at Maude. As always, the assistant was unruffled. She spoke in soothing tones as she produced a battery-powered hand fan from her belt bag and handed it to Bianca. Bianca, who hadn’t even noticed she’d been absently fanning herself with a clipboard, paused in her angry tirade and exhaled a sigh when the cool air hit her.
“That absolutely will not happen again, Ms. Bonnycastle, which is why Amelia and I have personally repacked your entire wardrobe, that foolish alpha was replaced, and the items he touched have been dry cleaned,” Maude chirped brightly, before lifting two folded sheets forBianca’s inspection. “Will you be taking your bed linens with you to your packhouse? We assumed they wouldn’t fit your new bed, but we didn’t know if you might have secondary nests or other purposes for them and we didn’t want to assume.”
Bianca’s expression shifted from anger to something like distress. Quentin felt a tug in his chest, pulling him toward her. He noticed how flushed her skin was, how the strands of hair that had escaped her tight bun curled against her damp skin, fluttering in the fan’s breeze. She looked overwhelmed and annoyed and beautiful, and Quentin wanted nothing more than to take care of her.
“She and Callum have already picked out new sheets for the main nest, but we also have a couple of secondary spaces.” Quentin strode over and put a hand on the small of Bianca’s back. The confusion cleared from her expression, and she scowled up at him. “I’m sure she can use those sheets. Why don’t you box them up for us, and we’ll get ready to head out.”
Bianca crossed her arms and glared at him. “While I am sure I will be thrilled to have at least one space in my new home with linens of a proper thread count, I am perfectly capable of handling my affairs, thank you. I amnotdone for the day.”
A growl rumbled in Quentin’s chest. His Countess was even feistier in heat, apparently. It was clear Pack King was in for a wild ride.
Which was just how Quentin liked it.
The Tweedles exchanged a glance and probably some twin telepathy, before slipping from the room with arms full of linens. Bianca didn’t seem to notice. She uncrossed her arms and planted her fists on her hips, gunmetal gray eyes sparking at him.
“Furthermore,Quentin, you have no idea what I want in my nest becauseIdon’t even know what I want in my nest becauseI don’t nest!” Bianca’s chest heaved, her face growing pinker with each word. That angry pointer finger came out again, but this time it stabbed him in the chest. “Not even when I’m in heat, really. At best, I cocoon. I am not cozy and maternal and whatever other omega nonsense you’re expecting. So, I hope you get what you need from Callum because I’m just not built that way!”
Quentin caught her hand before she could jab him again, and pulled her against his body, spinning her so that her back was to his front. She struggled against his grip, angry tears spilling down her cheeks. She even tried to bite him, craning her neck as far as she could in an attempt to bury her teeth in his chest.
Quentin kept her pinned against him, using his free hand to reach under her sundress. His dick had been hard since he’d walked in and caught her perfume, and her defiance had him dying to rut her into submission. He pushed her panties aside, and roughly plunged two fingers into her pussy, finding it soaked and ready.
Bianca moaned, shuddering and going limp in his arms. Satisfaction rumbled in Quentin’s chest. He moved his fingers steadily, lowering his lips to his omega’s ear.
“I know exactly how you’re built, Countess,” he growled, palming her pussy and rubbing her clit with the heel of his hand. She cried out, hips bucking, slick gushing over his fingers. Quentin purred approvingly. “I know because you’re built for me. You’remine, Bianca. Did you forget that?”
She squirmed, whimpering softly. “No, King. It’s just–”
“You think I don’t know who you are, mate? You think I don’t see you and want you exactly as you are?” Quentin fingered her harder, faster, rougher, just like he knew she liked it. “If you weren’t going into heat, I’d punish the shit out of you for doubting my love, omega.”
“I’m not–,” Bianca cut herself off, likely realizing she was about to argue with him when she was already on thin ice. She panted, writhing against his fingers even as she tried to keep up the conversation. “How’d you know I was starting my heat? It doesn’t usually come on so suddenly.”
“I’ll tell you after you come,” Quentin answered. He pulled his fingers from her pussy and licked them, letting out a low groan. He sucked his middle finger clean before shoving his index finger between her parted lips. “Taste how perfect you are. You’re even sweeter than usual.”
