Page 21 of Omega in Love
"Neither have we," he says quietly.
"Really?" I ask, adjusting my back slightly against Levi, to face him fully so I can search his face for any hint of deception. Those green eyes, always so certain, so steady, meet mine with unexpected vulnerability. "Never?"
"Not like this," Hero says, his voice a low rumble. "Not all together."
Tilting my head back, I look at Levi, then Dante and Hero, taking my time to study each face, Dante's controlled intensity, Hero's quiet awareness, and Levi's open affection. Three different men, three different ways of showing care. "So, this is new for all of us."
Levi nods, his warm vanilla scent wrapping around me like a cozy warm hug, familiar and comforting. "Yes. But we can figure out the pack thing together. This is uniquely ours."
Ours. The word echoes in my chest like a struck bell. Not borrowed, not temporary, not conditional. Ours. Mine. Theirs. A belonging I've craved but never allowed myself to trust.
"What about work?" I ask, because practicality has kept me alive this long. Self-preservation kicks in, even now. "The whole bodyguard situation."
Dante's expression turns serious, that familiar focused look that means he's already considered every angle. "We've already talked to Dez about it."
My eyebrows shoot up and something defensive flares in me. "You told Dez that you want to be my pack? My Alphas? Before telling me?" The thought of being discussed, decided upon without my knowledge, scrapes against old wounds.
"No," Hero cuts in quickly, leaning forward, his eyes intent on mine. "We told him that our relationship with you had evolved beyond a professional capacity and we needed guidance on how to proceed."
"Very diplomatic," I murmur, but there's no bite to it. I recognize the care they took, the respect for my agency in this delicate dance between us.
"We're staying on as your security detail," Dante continues, his fingers now splayed protectively against my hip. "None of us trust anyone else to take care of you but us. You're ours to protect."
Something tightens in my chest, a knot of longing and fear. "So, I won't lose you? When I travel or work?" The question comes out more vulnerable than I intended, revealing the hidden fear that this connection might be situational, might evaporate when circumstances change.
"No," Levi confirms, his arm wrapping slightly tighter around me, steadying. "We will be more. . .whatever you want us to be."
"Partners," Hero suggests, the word deliberate, respectful.
"Boyfriends," Dante adds, looking like the word feels foreign in his mouth, but determined to offer it anyway.
"Pack," Levi says simply, with a certainty that steals my breath.
That last one makes my breath catch, striking something primal and hungry inside me. A word loaded with meaning, with family, with permanence, with bone-deep belonging.
"I haven't had a pack since I was sixteen," I whisper. My fingers fidget with the hem of my hoodie, an old nervous habit. "Not since my family."
It's the first time I've admitted it out loud. The ache of that loss, of being cast out when I presented as Omega instead of the Alpha my parents expected. Of being told I was defective, wrong, unwanted. Sixteen years old and suddenly packless, familyless, identityless. My designation that made me ‘less than’ in their eyes.
Hero leans forward, taking my hands in his. His touch is gentle but firm. "You have one now. If you want it." The sincerity in his voice makes my chest ache with something dangerously close to hope.
I swallow hard, feeling the familiar tightness in my throat that comes before tears. I refuse to cry. Not now. "And if it doesn't work? If I—" I can't finish the thought, the words sticking like thorns.
"If you what, Brookes?" Dante presses gently, his cedarwood scent deepening as he moves closer, his eyes searching my face with an intensity that makes me want to both hide and be seen completely.
"If I'm too much," I finally say, voice barely audible, the confession scraping my throat raw. "Too needy. Too damaged. Too. . .me." The words hang in the air for a moment, my greatest fear exposed like an open wound. I've spent years crafting the perfect façade, witty, polished, untouchable. Beneath it all, thisis what terrifies me: that when people see the real me, they leave. Everyone except Charlotte, but the rest. . .
Levi tips my chin up so I can look up at him directly. His brown eyes are bottomless, filled with a certainty that seems unshakable. The constellation of Aries on his arm shifts as he adjusts his position, stars realigning. His warm vanilla scent envelops me, comforting and steady.
"You," he says firmly, each word deliberate and weighted, "are exactly enough. Not too much. Not too little. We want you exactly as you are."
"Damaged parts included," Dante adds, the corner of his mouth lifting in that rare almost-smile that transforms his usually stern face. His fingers trace a pattern against my hip.
"We all have them," Hero says, his voice soft but steady. "Scars. Fears. Nightmares. None of us are coming to this undamaged, Brookes." The way he says my name, like it's something precious, makes my heart stutter.
I look at each of them in turn, really look at them beyond their imposing Alpha exteriors. Dante with his rigid control, born from a failure he's never fully explained, but that sometimes haunts his eyes when he thinks no one is watching. Hero with his watchful eyes, always calculating risks, always planning escape routes, always positioned between me and the nearest exit. Levi with his gentle touch that sometimes trembles with the effort of restraining his Alpha instincts, the way he holds himself back as if afraid his strength might somehow hurt rather than heal.
They're right. We're all carrying something. Broken pieces that somehow might fit together into something whole.
