Page 22 of Omega in Love
"So, we just what? Figure it out as we go?" I ask, a hint of my usual snark returning, a defense mechanism I can't quite shed even now. My fingers fidget with the hem of my hoodie again, betraying the nervousness beneath my attempted casualness.
Dante actually smiles now, a real one that transforms his entire face. "Pretty much." The simplicity of his answer is somehow more reassuring than any elaborate promise could be.
"Day by day," Hero agrees, his thumb tracing gentle circles on the back of my hand.
"Together," Levi adds, the word carrying the weight of a vow. His eyes never leave mine, steady and unwavering.
I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with their mingled scents, cedarwood, sandalwood, and vanilla—creating something new. Something that already feels like home. I close my eyes for a moment and ground myself in their comforting presence and free fall into this newness, this terrifying, beautiful possibility.
"Okay," I say finally, nodding. "I'm in." The words feel momentous, like stepping off a cliff and finding wings instead of falling.
The tension that had been humming beneath their calm exteriors visibly releases. Dante's shoulders drop a fraction, a tightness I hadn't even realized was there suddenly gone. Hero's breath comes out in a rush, stirring the air between us. Levi's smile blooms slow and sweet, dimples reappearing in full force, making him look younger, unburdened.
"Really?" Dante asks, like he needs to be sure, like he can't quite believe I've agreed. His fingers tighten slightly on my hip, as if afraid I might slip away.
"Yes," I reply, more firmly this time, finding strength in their belief, even when mine wavers. "But fair warning, I'm high maintenance and I have no idea what I'm doing." I gesture vaguely at myself.
Hero laughs, the sound warm and rich, unexpected from someone usually so reserved. "We noticed the high maintenance part." His eyes crinkle at the corners, softening his usually intense gaze.
"Hey!" I swat at him, feigning offense, but I'm grinning despite myself. The familiar banter feels like solid ground beneath my feet.
"And none of us know what we're doing either," Levi adds, tugging me closer until I'm practically in his lap, his solid warmth against my back. "But we're good at figuring things out." The confidence in his voice makes it sound like a fact rather than wishful thinking.
I settle against him, feeling Dante's hand slide down my leg to rest on my feet, Hero's hands still holding mine. Their bodies form a protective circle around me, not caging but sheltering.
"So," I say after a moment, unable to resist testing this new reality, "does this mean I get three good morning kisses now? Because if so, I'm definitely getting the better end of this deal." I arch an eyebrow, my sass a familiar shield even as vulnerability lingers beneath.
Their laughter surrounds me, three distinct sounds blending into something harmonious. Dante's low chuckle, Hero's warm rumble, Levi's full-bodied laugh that I can feel vibrating through his chest against my back. For once, I don't feel the need to build my walls back up. Not with them. Not anymore.
I'm still scared, terrified, if I'm being honest. The weight of past rejections and betrayals hasn't magically disappeared, but for the first time in forever, fear doesn't feel like a warning to run away.
It feels like the start of something worth staying for.
Chapter 10
Hero
I've never been one to hesitate. In combat situations, hesitation means death. In protection detail, it means failure. Standing here, watching Brookes linger in his bedroom doorway, I'm frozen between duty and desire, caught in the undertow of emotions I've spent years learning to control.
He's wearing my hoodie again. Black, worn soft from years of use, hanging off one shoulder and draping past his fingertips. It swallows him whole, making him look smaller, more unguarded than the fierce supermodel the world knows. This is Brookes stripped bare, not of clothing, but of pretense. The sight of him drowning in fabric that carries my scent, sends a primal satisfaction coursing through me that I immediately try to suppress.
His fingers drum against the doorframe, a staccato rhythm betraying his nervousness despite the casual tilt of his chin. The pulse at his throat flutters visibly, and his rose scent carries notes of anxiety beneath the floral sweetness. "Are you guys coming or not?" he asks, aiming for nonchalance but missing by inches.
The words hang in the air between us, weighed with implications none of us are ready to voice aloud. We've been giving him space since his confession in the living room, that raw moment when he admitted he wanted us close. All of us. Together. The vulnerability in his eyes had knocked the air from my lungs, this man who'd been hurt so deeply, choosing to trust again.
Levi moves first, silent and gentle as always, crossing the invisible boundary without a word. His movements are slow, deliberate. I watch the tension in Brookes’ shoulders ease slightly as Levi passes him. Dante follows, shoulders squared but eyes soft, scanning Brookes’ face for any hint of discomfort or regret.
I'm last. Always observing, calculating, reading the unspoken language of bodies and measuring breath. It's not out of professional distance anymore, it's fear. Fear that this fragile thing building between us will shatter if I move too quickly. Fear that I'll reveal just how deeply I've fallen for the man who was supposed to be just another assignment. Every protective instinct in me wants to gather him close, to stand between him and a world that's already taken too much.
Brookes rolls his eyes at my hesitation, but the slight tremble in his hand gives him away as he tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. "It's just sleeping, not a tactical operation," he says, voice pitched low enough that only I can hear. Beneath the sass, there's a question in his eyes. A need for reassurance that I'm not overthinking what this means, that I want this too.
The bed is California king but still seems impossibly small for four grown men. Brookes situates himself in the middle, and there's an awkward dance of limbs and space as we arrange ourselves around him. The mattress dips beneath our collective weight, creating a natural gravitational pull toward the center, toward him. I watch how Brookes’ fingers fidget with the hem ofhis hoodie, betraying the nervousness his casual expression tries to mask.
"We're gonna need a bigger bed," Brookes mutters, and the tension breaks as Levi's deep laugh rumbles through the room, vibrating against my ribs even from across the mattress. His dimples appear, the sound of his amusement washing over us feels like a balm.
Levi settles behind him with practiced ease, one arm draped protectively over Brookes’ waist, his massive frame curling around Brookes’ slighter one like a living fortress. The contrast between Levi's dark skin and Brookes’ brown complexion creates a picture I want to commit to memory. Dante claims the other side, keeping a careful inch between them until Brookes huffs and tugs him closer with surprising strength, forcing the stoic Alpha to breach his self-imposed boundary. I notice how Dante's usually vigilant gaze softens as he allows himself to be pulled in.
I hover at the foot of the bed, uncertain. My hesitation stems from the weight of wanting something so badly I’m afraid to reach for it. Brookes meets my eyes, a challenge in his gaze as he curls a finger in a gesture that undoes years of carefully maintained control.
