Page 118 of Two For the Show
“Omega.” Every time he calls me by my designation, I know his Alpha instincts are riding him hard, so I head to him first, wrapping my arms around his large belly.
“What’s wrong, Alpha?” He buries his face in my dark hair, and whatever he says is so muffled I cannot make out any of it. “Try again,” I chuckle.
“You’re not going to like your present,” he repeats, sounding surly.
I take a step back and glare at him. “I thought we weren’t doing presents!”
“You believed that?” Dario says, hopping over to us. “How do you keep falling for that?”
“I don’t know, maybe I keep thinking that this once, my pack won’t try to get one over on me?” I release Jude and kiss Dario on the cheek before ruffling his dark brown hair. “Why even bother having the discussion if none of you are going to stick by it?”
His eyes sparkle with humor. “Because you keep bringing it up. Can we do presents now?” His good mood is infectious, and he could convince me to do anything in those slutty little cutoff shorts he’s wearing. Coupled with his crop top and his chocolate apple scent, he looks so delicious that I almost want to skip dinner and go straight to dessert.
Matteo makes a grumbling noise from the kitchen. “We may as well, there is no fixing this cheesecake now.”
“What’s wrong with it?” Quinton asks, leaning over his shoulder.
“There’s a crack.”
“Throw whipped cream on it,” Dexter suggests. “No one will know.”
Matteo crosses his arms over his chest and exhales heavily. “I will.”
“Hey, Alex,” Dexter says as he slides up next to me and kisses my cheek. “How’s Edmund?”
I brush his blonde hair off his forehead, nuzzling my nose against his. He looks comfortable in a plain black t-shirt and gray sweats. Sometimes, even when the other guys dress up, he wears lounge pants instead. He doesn’t like the way some of the clothes feel on his waist, so if he doesn’t have to wear jeans or slacks, he won’t. “You heard about that?”
The Alpha, who was once my most reluctant partner, pulls me close and wraps his arms around my waist, and I soak up his caramel chocolate scent. “Yeah, he apparently was trying to get out of calling you, so he called Jude to see if Jude would stitch him up.”
“Moron,” Jude grumbles, though it’s full of affection.
“Okay, presents!” Dario calls out, running over to the dining table and snagging an envelope off it. “Mine first!”
I grin broadly and take the white envelope from him, opening it up to pull out a folded sheet of paper. It takes me a moment to read over it. “Couples massages?”
It took a little while, but I have mostly overcome my aversion to touch. I still don’t love being surprised by a grab from anyone outside of my pack, but it’s not nearly as bad as it used to be. And touches that I’m aware are going to happen are fine.
“Yeah! A full spa day, too. Mudbaths, facials, and even nails. Just me and you. I always wanted to do one with you, and you’ve been working so hard. I want to help you relax.”
I raise on my tiptoes to give him a sweet kiss, but he doesn’t let me get away with that. He grabs my ass and pulls me close, the kiss filthy and desperate. When we finally break apart, panting, I have nearly forgotten what we’re doing here.
When I look down and see the gift certificate in my hand, I remember. It’s our third anniversary of officially being a pack, and all of my guys are spoiling me, even though I told them not to.
But Dario looks so pleased with himself, it’s hard to be mad at him for being sneaky.
“Thank you, Dario. I am so excited to spend this time with you.”
“Me next!” Quinton declares, grabbing my hand and spinning me to face him. His gray eyes are no longer lined with purple bags, and he looks younger than he did when I first met him. His shirt, a gray one that says, “My Omega could beat up yours”, is half tucked into a pair of wide-legged, baggy jeans. “You’re going to love it.”
He grabs a small pink bag with white tissue paper off the couch and holds it out to me. It’s surprisingly heavy, and I rest it on the ornate dining table to dig into it. I pull out two black shirts and stretch them out. The smaller of the two says “Somebody,” and the larger has “Somebody’s Problem” written across the front.
An unattractive snort laugh leaves me when I read them. “Couples t-shirts?” I ask, incredulously. “Where are we going to wear these?”
“Everywhere, my dear Omega. But that’s not all! Keep digging.”
The bag is still heavy, and I reach in and pull out a large candle. It’s ivory colored, with a label on the front that says ‘Pack Shields’. When I take off the lid and smell it, my nose is filled with the sweet, slightly fruity, confectionary chocolatey scent of our pack. Quinton managed to get all of our scents put into a candle.
My eyes tear up a little at the thoughtfulness of it. “This is so thoughtful, Quinton.”
