Page 19 of A Pack of Cozy

Seth chuckles, and I realize she's trying to make us feel better instead of the other way around. That won't do.

"Will you let us take you home?" I ask. She bites her lip. "Just to make sure you get there safe and get fed," I clarify.

"It's not that. It's just that my place is small," Cali confesses.

"We like small," Connor says, throwing our short omega a suggestive wink.

She snorts, but in the end, she agrees.

The guys and I had driven the Jeep to the Café, so we agreed to follow her to her cottage. Thankfully, Bruce had ended up circling back and clearing the road. No one gets stuck, although there are a few close calls with Cali's car. Those tires are too small, and the frame is too low for the rough terrain. I feel that urge again to give her one of our cars, but I know enough now to know she won't accept it. Our omega has a tendency not to accept what she truly deserves.

Connor asks to be dropped off at the end of our drive and promises to come with his car in a little bit. Likely to whip up some food for our omega.

I'd seen the cottage before, simply from living in the area for so long. It's an adorable, gingerbread-style house with white shiplap walls, delicate decorative trim, and a covered front porch. It's very charming but clearly designed for one person. There's no way three alphas could fit comfortably in it for long.

Cali opens the front door and a faint beeping echoes from inside. I tense up, thinking an alarm is going off, and I'm correct. The thermostat on the wall is the source of the beeping.

"Hang on, I need to go feed the furnace," she says.

"You have a wood boiler?" Seth asks.

"Yeah, it sucks, but it is cheap." She smiles.

"Where is it?" I ask.

"Oh, it's okay. I can do it." I level a warm but firm glare at her. She sighs and breaks eye contact first. "It's behind the house, and the wood is under a tarp on the side porch."

I approach her slowly, taking her hand in mine, feeling the warmth radiate between us. As I lean in, I let my cheek graze against hers, savoring the softness of her skin. "Good girl," I whisper low in her ear, nipping at the plain of her neck. The air becomes thick with her intoxicating perfume, enveloping us in a sensual, rain-kissed aroma. I hear Seth's low growl, a primal response that echoes my own.

I go out to fill the wood stove, and as I'm heading back to the front door, I see Connor's car come around the corner. He parks and unloads two bags of food from our fridge, and I take one from him to help carry it inside.

When we enter the cottage, Seth holds Cali in his arms, whispering to her. We gently move around them, not wanting to interrupt their moment. Any bonding between them benefits the pack and, more importantly, Cali's well-being. Given our height, our heads nearly brush the ceiling, and we have to duck to avoid hitting the light fixtures.

We unpack all the food before my Raindrop comes over.

"What are you making?" She asks.

"Paella," Connor replies. "Do you want to help?" She looks nervous but nods.

Based on the microwave meals I've seen in her freezer and the nothing I've seen anywhere else, she doesn't cook much. Which is fine. Connor will happily cook for her, or anyone else, until he breathes his last breath. Seth and I sit on her kitchen chairs near the counter and watch.

Calliope

Cookingis…fun.I'venever experienced it like this. My mom doesn't like to cook, and my dad makes basics, like boxed spaghetti and American tacos. Never anything like this. These are spices, rice, and colorful vegetables. It's saffron and cooked shrimp and fish. Every layer has a new smell, color, and texture. Connor is so patient with me, explaining things I'm sure most children know about cooking that I've never bothered to learn. Seth and Bax help occasionally but mostly watch us, make jokes, and ask me questions. I learn more about them as we work. Like how Seth has an enormous pack family. How Connor lived with them for much of high school. How Bax had met them in college. I know deeper, more personal stories are there, but I don't want to pry yet. Hopefully, there will be chances in the future if they still want to take me on courting dates.

When the dish comes together, it's this colorful mishmash of perfectly cooked rice, veggies, and seafood. We pile the masterpiece on paper plates because that's the only kind I have, and we eat with plastic ware. It's pretty embarrassing, but no one complains.

We tuck into the food with wild abandon. I cover my mouth with my hand. I've always been self-conscious while eating, and my ex had fed that insecurity by assuring me I was disgusting when I ate. But the noises coming from me after the first glorious bite are practically pornographic. After only microwaving single-serve meals for weeks, my taste buds have hibernated, and the paella is reawakening them. When I look up, the alphas are staring at me. I feel heat creeping up my face.

"Precious, if those enticing little sounds keep escaping your lips, we might not make it through dinner," Seth says, his voice low and teasing, but his eyes dark and carnal. "We might have to bend you over that counter and show you how we earn those delicious noises." My cheeks burn, both from embarrassment and undeniable excitement. I feel my anxious thoughts recede as my omega pushes to the surface at Seths suggestive words. She wants this. I want this. and that helps me gain the courage I need to take what I want.

Silencing my thoughts, I let my instincts take over. Picking up another forkful of food, I savor the taste as I bite down, moaning the same way I had. The alphas exchange heated glances, their expressions shifting to focused, hot need. The air thickens with an undeniable tension, and I can feel their eyes on me, hunger and curiosity dancing in the space between us.

Then, they all move at once. Connor grips the arms of my chair as he spins me around, kneeling before me.

"Is that permission, Baby?" he murmurs, his hands flexing on the arms of the dining chair. A warm flush spreads through me, pooling at my core and igniting a delicious ache. I fight to swallow my uncertainty regarding scent-sensitivity, mates, and the fear of being left behind again. Staring into his smoldering eyes, I realize there's no hesitation about wanting them. My omega pushes up a whine.

I nod still feeling my residual uncertainty. Not about wanting them. Just about myself and my own relationship skills. But my omega forcibly pushes those down. She needs these men. Shewantsthem.

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