Page 148 of The Boss Omega
Saint takes one more breath, then uses his fingers to ease Lark’s mouth open wider. He slides out carefully.
She sucks in air, collapsing against my chest.
“Oomph,” I grunt when Graham’s weight also collapses on top of me.
“That was incredible,” she whispers.
We all stop.
“Did she?” Graham lifts his body to look at her.
Saint leans over and kisses her. “Welcome back, princess. You were perfect.”
She smiles sleepily at him, then rests her head back on my shoulder and promptly falls asleep.
After three days, it’s over. She’s been terrified it would last all week. Worried that we would hate having to help her for so long. But it was only three days. Shorter, even, than what Graham insists is normal.
I’ll never tell her, because she has serious anxiety about her heats, but it wasn’t long enough.
Saint
In her sleep, Lark shifts from Silas’ chest to wedges herself between Graham and me.
“Should I make dinner?” Silas asks. “She’ll be hungry when she wakes.”
“You need to be here when she wakes up,” Graham answers. “Post-heat is a very sensitive time for omegas, and I don’t want her to freak out when one of her alphas isn’t here.”
Silas pushes his big body from the bed. “Then I’ll grab a quick shower. Holler if she wakes.”
Lark stirs in my arms. “I’m awake.” Her voice is muffled against my shoulder. “And food sounds good. But coffee first.”
I smile. “That’s my department,” I say, my lips grazing her forehead.
She snuggles closer. Her scent is softer now. Still sweet but calmer. Less insistent. “But you’re so warm and cuddly.”
I chuckle. “Graham and Silas can cuddle, too. I won’t be long.”
I untangle from her legs and the sheets and make my way from the nest. Lark turns into Graham’s open arms and sighs.
“Make mine a double,” Graham calls as I walk out.
Yeah, we’ll all be getting double shots today. None of us have slept much since Saturday, and we each need as much chemical energy as we can get.
I stop by my room on the way down and pull on a pair of flannel pajama bottoms. Lark stuffed all our clothes into her nest since her heat started. Not once has she asked for any of our scents or clothes, but as soon as her heat started, her omega amplified by five-hundred percent. I look at the flannel. She’ll probably take these, too. And I’ll give them to her, happily.
I make my way to the kitchen. Feels like ages since that morning when she first stood by the counter and I pushed a latte toward her. I was such an ass, refusing to admit that I wanted her. Needed her.
She had taken it and smiled. It was tentative and full of shock, but still a smile. Because that’s Lark. She’s sharp. Doesn’t take no for an answer. But she also knows exactly when to push and when to wait. And she played me like a fiddle. Gave me every opportunity to see what I was missing. To want her even more than I did on that first day. And then she pounced. Not literally, of course. I wasn’t ready for that. But figuratively. Cornering me in my shop. Asking all kinds of questions about coffee. And then daring me to compare mine to the brown sugar lattes at Nayda’s Café. As if there’s a comparison.
And I fell for it hook, line, and sinker. Would have probably even tumbled into her arms that night, begging for forgiveness. But I didn’t wait that long because I was scared shitless when I arrived to her warehouse and saw that it had collapsed. Every alpha instinct was on the edge. Every fear I’d ever had, confirmed.
And then, like the sun rising, she emerged from the crowd of people. And I clung to her. Couldn’t let go. I won’t be apart from heragain. I love her. It’s not biology. Yeah, that’s part of it. But mostly it’s just her. Lark. My perfect omega.
The bond buzzes in my chest. Feeling her inside me, it’s settled something restless that I didn’t know was there.
She can feel me thinking about her and she’s pushing her love back at me, along with an unhealthy dose of impatience.
“House,” I say, “Announce ‘coffee’s almost ready’.”
