Page 69 of The Rogues

TWENTY-TWO

The meal is heavenly.

I kind of hate how good it is because it’s going to become a craving of mine, but I refuse to let him work that hard for a meal again.

“Was it worth the wait?” Lennon asks jokingly.

I wipe my mouth with a napkin and turn to face him. “That might be one of the best things I’ve ever eaten.”

Lennon’s chin raises with pride. “Really? Fuck. That makes me… wow.” He pushes his plate away and smiles at me. “That makes my alpha really happy.”

He’s so fucking cute.

Before I can say anything, the door to the hotel suite opens and in walks the rest of my scent matches, their joy pulsing in the air as they enter.

They’re all talking a mile a minute, asking how things went, saying stuff about their day. I feel like a deer in headlights as their excitement reaches us.

When they see me, their faces brighten even more.

“Bubbles!” Malaki exclaims. Remi comes over and picks at the remains of beef on Lennon’s plate with his fingers, and Jamie crosses the room to kiss me on the cheek.

“Let’s not crowd them while they’re on their date,” Cyrus reprimands his pack before sending them further into the suite. Malaki grumbles something under his breath that sounds like “killjoy,” and Cyrus growls at him playfully before the group passes by and heads into the living room.

Cyrus and I have seen each other occasionally, but not much. Every time we do, I remember the devastation on his face when I asked them to give me space. I let them down, and he is their prime, their protector. I feel anxious that he isn’t going to approve of this shift I’ve taken with his pack mates, that some boundaries are going to be set that my omega isn’t going to like.

I’ll have to accept them, first and foremost, no matter how my omega feels about it. They respected mine at the end of the day.

But when he looks at me, I’m surprised to see the same type of longing staring right back at me.

“How are you, Josie?” he asks, but I hear it through water. His leather jacket is fitted around his shoulders and his hair is just begging for someone to run their fingers through its strands.

He looks so good that it takes a second for my brain to catch up. “I’m sorry, what?”

“How are you?” he repeats, his eye contact unwavering.

His presence makes me nervous, but then I remember the very uncomfortable dinner our teams forced us to have together. Uncomfortable for the girls, I presume, not me. I had a surprisingly okay time with two alphas on either side of me despite being utterly panicked.

I glance down at that same hand now, the muscles corded in his forearms, rings adorning his fingers. I swallow down a gulp before meeting his slightly narrowed eyes.

“I’m good!” I say, but it comes out a little bit squeaky.

“Did you two have fun?” he asks. Something about the dominance rolling off him sends shivers down my spine. He isn’t just checking in on our date—he is being a prime. He isn’t just asking if we had a good time; he is asking if Lennon planned an adequate date, if he satisfied me. If we connected…

I look back at Lennon, who is grinning from ear to ear, awaiting my answer patiently. My heart patters as I look at him, all the joy and playfulness jumping off him in droves.

“We had the best time,” I respond. “Lennon was a gentleman. And he’s a great cook.”

Cyrus’s lips curve. “He is. I wish he could cook more often.”

“Oh, because of his⁠—”

He shakes his head. “Because we’re on tour. There’s only so much prep you can do in a tour bus kitchen. Our kitchen in L.A. has this really fancy ventilation system so Lennon can cook all he wants. It was our first big purchase besides the house itself.”

That delights me, making the horny omega inside of me that much more impressed. Cyrus really cares about his pack, for each and every member. It’s glorious to witness.

“Are you staying for a while?” Cyrus asks as he takes off his jacket and holds it in the crook of his elbow.

I bet that jacket smells divine. Chocolate, leathery goodness…