“Purrs, cuddles, and eliminating the threat.”
Dad raises his eyebrows. “Very good. What is a comfort snack?”
I roll my eyes. “Secret recipe hot chocolate, those double choc cookies she loves so much, or her mother’s chicken and veggie soup, with sliced flatbread bathed in garlic butter.”
Dad and Pops check in with Julia.
“He’s right,” Julia says with a small chuckle. “She loves my soup, says it fixes all the wrong things.”
“What is going to make her feel safe?” Dad barks.
“Me!” I say before Dad even finishes the question. “I make her safe.”
“Even with all the arguing?” Mum asks sarcastically.
A growl rips through the room, and it takes me a second to register that it’s me. I force myself to stop and narrow my eyes on my mother.
“Cordelia Lake is my omega. My perfect match. The omega was made for me. Even when we argue, I still know how to give her what she needs, exactly the way my dads can fix you when you are being mean.”
Mum flinches again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”
I take a breath and try to calm down, but it’s hard.
“The fighting was before, and it was self-preservation for both of us. I’m the one thing that is safe. That's why she’s been stealing my clothes all this time.”
Mum’s eyebrows go all the way up.
“I can do this. Just tell her she doesn’t need to, and you found someone else.”
“You’d do that for her?” Mum says squinting up at me.
“I’d do whatever it took to make her happy.”
“And Sofia?”
“Sofia has her own pack to fight her battles,” I say flatly. “You can deal with Devon.”
“You’ll be working with Sofia,” Mum says. “The two of you side by side, making matches and finding love.”
I heave a sigh of suffering. “I can endure her.”
“Okay. You’ve got yourself a deal,” Mum says after a quick glance at Julia. “Cordelia is out, and you are in.”
“Joyful,” I say with enthusiasm.
“Now let’s discuss plans.”
It took me three hours to escape, but now that I’m free, I feel good about my choice but slightly ill by the logistics of the event itself. The prep time alone is enormous. They have to get the stone artwork commissioned, decide on themes, order supplies, and veto all the wrong matches.
Apparently, the matches are brought before Sully, who inspects them. The way I looked at my mother got both my fathers’ backs up. But come on! It’s ridiculous.
I get to Main Street without intending to come here, but the shouts draw me out of my simmering frustration.
“Lynn Marino lives here; it's all over the internet.”
I snap my head in that direction, taking in the older woman with curling, greying hair. She’s wearing large glasses and is scowling fiercely.
Grigori smiles at her with that thousand-watt grin of his. “I assure you, the internet is wrong. Lynn does not live here.”
