I lick my lips, tongue-tip splitting to clean my upper lip. I take another sip, this time my eyes closing in pleasure.
“It’s good,” I say, meeting Tristan’s expectant green eyes.
“Really good,” Azane adds.
We all turn to Ink. She has her head tipped back as she finishes the cup. “S’good, omega,” she says, forked tongue licking her lips, after placing the mug on the table.
Tristan laughs, open and free, a happy sound.
“You said you sold this for currency?” I ask, a thought once again rolling around my head. “What was sold with it?”
He had mentioned that most humans only drank this in the morning.
“Donuts, cake, muffins, all kinds of sweet stuff, usually,” Tristan answers, his green eyes locked on mine.
“Hmm...” I say absentmindedly, mind going back to our clear cases of cookies and sweet breads back at my bakery in Citradoth.
Tristan makes a noise, and I turn to him, catching him shifting his hips, rocking downward at the floor as he lets out a tiny whimper
I turn to Azane and Inken, both emitting low, soft purrs. Ink steps between Tristan and me, pressing her small ass back against my groin as she curls an arm around Tristan.
“My poor, horny omega,” she says quietly. “Does that adorable little cock ache?”
He nods, rising and pressing his chest back into her body. My hands rise, one taking Ink’s hip, the other stretching to take Tristan’s. He moans again, eyes closed, lost in desire.
“Did you want to release?” Ink purrs as she grabs his caged cock, his body lithe and supple and begging me to bend him over and fuck him hard.
I make a noise as I again roll over the thought that had been nagging me.
“What is it, beta?” Azane asks from near my other side.
My head shakes, unable to fully conceptualize it.
But it’s somehow visible in my brain.
A bakery, like I had back in Citradoth. I have the skill, assuming I had a bit of help. And we could sell Tristan’s morning tea-stuff. I bet it would taste amazing with smashmelon muffins. That rich, almost silky flavor would mesh so well with the rounded and full-bodied sweetness of the small yellow melons.
Tristan whimpers again and my eyes drop as his hips thrust desperately into the air. Both our alphas chuckle, quiet and dark.
His scent increases, rich and decadent. He lets out a long whine.
“His heat is not long off,” Ink says quietly to Azane.
I bite down a growl.
My omega in heat. Wet and ready to be bred.
Fuck. I can’t wait to fill his needy body with my seed.
Chapter Eleven
Inken
When I reluctantly pull myself out of the nest, I dress and hurry out. The path to the town square is small but well-worn by now.
It’s market day, which happens once a phase here in Setias. I have quite a few things to get done today. As I round a corner, the soft needles of a rubyroot tree kissing my arm, I smile to hear the voices of my fellow villagers. Setias is now over thirty packs, and while we may not know everything about each other, we are friendly and helpful. A village. We’re connected.
At one brightly colored booth, I see the little omega, Nimme, their name is, a member of the Iwanyth pack. They are gray-skinned and gilled and outgoing. I wave at them as I stride down the central street.
