“No twin talk. If you have something to say, say it out loud.”
Kaden groans and turns away, toying with his fork while I finish breakfast. Kip snickers, and I threaten him again for good measure.
Finally, just as the bacon finishes frying and the omelets are done, Mags stumbles in. Her hair is a tangled mess, but I can tell from the small pinprick in the crook of her right arm that she took her medicine. Now we just have to hope it lasts until bedtime.
Mags sits at her spot and stares blankly at the gifts. She pokes the stuffed bear with her fingertip and looks at the three of us. “Am I supposed to eat this or what?”
Twins: One. Me: Zero. Damn.
Kip giggles and waves his fork. “It’s agift. Someone—and I won’t name names—thought you’d enjoy some ‘nice things.’”
While Kip’s goofing off, I test the temperature of the bacon grease. It’s still hot, but not hot enough to burn. I hand Mags her plate, stretching across the table so the pan of grease in my other hand tilts and drips onto Kip’s lap.
“Hey!” He jumps out of his seat and swats at the stain. “Fucker!”
“Oops! Careful, Kip. That could’ve been a nasty burn.”
He scowls at me, but I ignore it. “Mags, does your omelet look good?”
She’s already diving in. I watch her devour the folded egg concoction, eating with all the grace of a feral pig … and I love every second of it. Mags could eat a ham sandwich, and I’d find it sexy. Anything that draws attention to that plump mouth of hers.
One of these days, that mouth will be wrapped around my cock. I just have to be patient.
She belches when she’s done, tapping a fist on her chest to get the last of the gas out. I pat her back to help, and she looks up with a grin. “Thanks.”
The twins chuckle, but a quick glare from me puts a stop to that.
“So,” Mags says once she’s done, “off to the Gradys’ house we go!”
“What are you going to do with the bear and the flowers?” I ask, trying to keep my tone casual.
She stops for a moment, then jumps out of her chair excitedly. “You can give them to the omega when we meet the Gradys! It’s perfect. She’ll love this crap.”
Ouch.
Mags’s oblivion kills my mood for the rest of the morning. I remain silent on the car ride across town to the Gradys’ manor house, holding the damn gifts like an idiot. I hand them over to the omega, Britney, when we get there, and predictably she squeals and hugs my neck at the gesture.
I could handle Mags hugging my neck. I’d rather not have this skinny young thing hanging off of me. Do her parents even feed her?
Britney Grady is … well, to say slender would be an understatement. I wonder if she doesn’t have some kind ofeating disorder, because I can see her ribs through her skintight dress, and her tits are damn near nonexistent. At least Mags has some meat on her.
After introductions are made, Mr. and Mrs. Grady give us a tour of their house while Britney hangs onto my arm. Her nest is in the attic, which is a little unusual, but when Mr. Grady opens the door to reveal that the nest encompasses the entire attic, with dozens of mattresses, hundreds of fluffy pillows, gauzy curtains hanging from every corner, tiny lights on elaborate strings, and … is that a vending machine in the back?
“It’s …” Opulent. Excessive. Overkill. “Nice.”
Britney preens at the praise. “I designed it myself. It took forever for the servants to get everything just right, but once I directed them, it went much more smoothly.”
Figures she wouldn’t make the nest herself. That’s one annoying thing about the marks Mags picks; they’re lazy and spoiled to a one. I don’t think any of them have had to lift a finger to do their own work their entire lives.
Mags may not like being an omega, but at least she does her own shit.
The tour ends with brunch in their massive dining room. Britney sits annoyingly close to me, trying to feed me the little goddamn finger sandwiches. She opens her mouth for me to feed her, too, but I play dumb and ignore the blatant request.
While I deal with Britney, Mags schmoozes with the parents, explaining how she and the twins work to help their daughter through the days leading up to her heat.
Since my part is obvious, I tune them out. Instead, I watch my secret omega out of the corner of my eye. She’s not showing signs of the suppressant wearing off today, so maybe last night was a fluke.
I hope she can hold out until this con pays off.
