Page 53 of Ruffled Feathers

Well, this should make the next bit easier then.“But we have added two more people to the Pack—kind of—and we’d love to introduce them to you. Lance is a former Marine and a Beta. And he adores OJ,” I added. I conveniently left out the PTSD. And the fact that he’d already been living in their house for the last month.

OJ smiled at the mere thought of the Beta. If I was a more jealous man, I’d want to track him down and beat the shit out of him for making her smile like that. But soon, he’d be Pack, and I’d be proud he made her smile. “And I adore him,” she said, her eyes wistful. “He has a cute dog too, Akio.”

Citrine laughed. “Well, loving animals is definitely a point in his favor.”

Sucking in a deep breath, I was about to launch into an explanation about Strat, but OJ beat me to it. “We also plan on claiming a second Omega. Strat Wilmington.”

“Eloise Wilmington’s son, Strat?” Citrine gasped, like it was some kind of surprise that Strat was an Omega. It wasn’t; he’d been quite big news on the gossip grapevine when he’d designated.

OJ nodded. “Yeah. I met him through Truett.” I mean, I guess we could leave out that he’d been the district attorney prosecuting her case. Being an Omega and part of our Packseemed to have made them forget she’d been in a jail cell less than a month ago.

Citrine looked thoughtful. “Two Omegas is a lot.” She paused, tilting her head at OJ. “By now, you’ll know that being an Omega means everything and nothing all at once. It means that your emotions are closer to the surface. That you’ll want to be beside them all the time. And you’ll feel quite territorial. All of these things are on top of your normal, human emotions. You’re a woman first, and an Omega second. Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.” Buck was nodding along with his wife. “But when it comes to heats and, uh, other matters of biology, sometimes the Omega shoves her way to the front. Are you going to be okay in those moments?”

Flushing, OJ cleared her throat. “Uh, yeah. Should be fine. Strat, uh, helped me through my last heat. We went through sympathetic heats together.”

Buck’s cheeks went red. It definitely wasn’t something a father wanted to know about his daughter, but Citrine just nodded. “Good. That’s good.” She screwed up her nose. “Does that mean I’ll have to be in-laws with the Wilmingtons? Eloise is such a nosey bitch.”

Throwing back my head, I laughed. She wasn’t wrong. “Sorry, Citrine. But Strat’s really nothing like his parents.”

The Omega, who was more like a mother to me than my own, gave me an understanding smile. “I’m sure. We aren’t merely reflections of our parents.” She hesitated. “Have you informed yours?”

I shrugged, because it didn’t really matter to me. I hadn’t seen my parents in ten years. Not because we’d fallen out or fought, or anything like that. They’d just packed up one day while I was at school, moved to Majorca, and left me with the nanny. They never came back, not for birthdays or holidays, andthat was when Citrine had stepped up to become my family, along with her son.

I didn’t need my parents back then; I’d barely known them when they’d lived in the same house. It was a testament to their shitty parenting that I hadn’t even noticed they were gone, until my nanny Colleen had asked how I felt about them moving overseas, telling me that it was okay to feel sad and miss them. Obviously, she’d been new, because any of the old nannies would’ve told her that my parents had hated having a kid.

So I certainly didn’t need them now.

“I emailed the lawyer. He’ll probably let them know.”

Citrine nodded, and I ignored the looks I got from Sonny and OJ. We could pat my hand and lament about my shitty childhood another day. I mean, they both knew how it was—especially Sonny, who’d been my friend when they'd left. Who’d taken me home with him after school when I’d told him they were gone, who’d given me a taste of what family was supposed to be like as we sat around the small kitchen table with his mom that night, having the first family dinner of my life.

It had been a long time in the past by the time Buck and OJ had turned up, though, and maybe I’d glossed over how fucking useless they were as parents. We could dive into my parental issues another time. Maybe me and Lance could get a two-for-one offer at my therapist’s office.

Okay, enough focus on me. Time for phase three.

I lifted my chin at Sonny, and he cleared his throat. “As we’re a Pack now, we’re moving into a Packhouse about thirty minutes out of town. You’re welcome to come and visit anytime, of course.”

Buck frowned at OJ. “You’re moving out? Isn’t this all a little fast? You only designated a couple of weeks ago. You haven’t even had a claiming ceremony yet.”

OJ stood up, moving to hug her dad. “I know this all seems like too much, too quickly, but I promise that it isn’t. I just know it’s right. Do you remember when you told me we were moving to South Carolina after you met a woman for one weekend at a conference in Montana? I said you barely knew Citrine. Do you remember what you told me?”

Squeezing his daughter tighter, he sighed heavily. “I told you that sometimes your soul just knows its other half, and that when you know they’re the one for you, there’s no fighting it.”

She patted him on the back. “My soul has known for a long time that Sonny and Truett are pieces of its puzzle. Strat and Lance are newer, but I feel it right here in my chest. They’re mine. Together, we create a beautiful picture. We mightn’t be perfect, but we’re right.”

Sighing once more, he kissed the top of her head. “Okay, Peaches. It’s just hard to think of you as someone grown up enough to have a life and a Pack, who doesn’t need me anymore.”

She shook her head at him, amusement curling her lips into a smile. “I’ll always need you.”

Citrine was looking glassy-eyed. “Well, that’s settled. We’ll miss you both, but you better believe we’re coming to visit as soon as you invite us.” She took a long sip of wine. “Now, does anyone want to tell me what happened to my azaleas?”

Twenty-Eight

Otillie-James

Strat hadn’t committed to moving into the Packhouse yet, and we were all respecting his decision. However, he spent more time here than at his own apartment, and more time in my bed than anywhere but his office.

Stretching, I hooked my leg over his, leaning over to turn off his alarm. Then I kissed my way over his shoulder and across his chest. “Strat, it’s time to get up.”

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