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Come on, baby. Show me what you’re made of.

Daphne’s glare is fierce, even as she helps me move those panties until all my cum is exactly where it should be—pressed against her skin.

I kiss the little bow on the front of her panties, inhaling deep at the scent of us together. “You’re beautiful.”

“I’m dirty,” she complains. She’s still trying to be angry about my overhandedness, but I can see the delight hiding under the surface. Her omega instincts sated at last.

“I like you dirty.” At my smug grin, Daph knocks me off balance, laughing when I topple over. I don’t give a fuck, though. My omega’s going to smell like meall night.

When we’re finally put together again, I check the time, pleased that we’re not late after all. “Come on, let’s meet your friends.”

“You cannotgo out there smelling like pussy.” She points to the slick-covered edge of my shirt and the wet spot on my jeans.

“Why not? Everyone will know I satisfied my omega.”

“Connor!” Daph looks so scandalized. I can’t help but laugh.

“Fine, I’ll change. You head downstairs and I’ll be right behind you.”

I get the side-eye of a lifetime. “I mean it, Connor.Change.”

“I will, angel. Promise.”

She gives me a grumpy little peck then flounces down the stairs muttering about being sticky all fucking day. I wait until I hear her on the first floor before heading to the guest room.

The door opens to boxes and fresh paint, but I don’t linger. Just strip my clothes off, chuck them onto the bed, and head back to my room.

Time to meet the future in-laws.

INTERROGATION: OMEGA STYLE

DAPHNE

I’m sticky,uncomfortable, and absolutely covered in Connor’s scent. It’s like omega heaven.

Downstairs, I find Nate and Dez entertaining themselves outside, but no friends yet. I’m nervous. Way more than I thought I’d be. Are they going to like Pack Morgan? Will the pack like them? Does it matter if the answer to either of those questions is no?

Not being able to have my people over made me feel like an outsider in my own friendships. It created a barrier between I don’t want to return. Not to mention, I trust my friends’ opinions more than my own right now. If they don’t like Pack Morgan, then they’re not the ones for me.

But I think walking away from the men that are slowly healing me with every word would hurt more than I care to admit.

When Connor comes back in a new outfit, my brain trips.

“I want your clothes,” I blurt, feeling ridiculous for asking.

Wordless, he heads right back upstairs, only to come down with a hamper I take with greedy hands.

Connor pulls my face up, forcing me to stop huffing their pheromones and look at him. “How long have you wanted them?”

I hesitate, not sure answering is a good idea. “A while.”

“Daphne,” he growls.

“Fine, a couple weeks.” More like since I washed their clothes after our awful dinner. I haven’t had the courage to ask for more.

“Next time you want something, tell us. We can’t read your mind, angel.”

“You’re not upset that I’m being needy?”