Page 47

thirty-five

. . .

Six Weeks Later

Mia

“ Y ou should eat more,” Finn says from across the table, pushing the bread basket toward me. His gaze flicks down to my still-flat stomach, and I blush. “You need the calories.”

I roll my eyes but take a piece of sourdough anyway. “I’m eight weeks pregnant, not an invalid. The baby is the size of a raspberry right now.”

“Our little berry,” Jace says, grinning and reaching across the table to place his hand over mine.

“Please don’t call our child a ‘berry,’” Kane says with a small smile. “He’s going to be an alpha through and through.”

“Lighten up a little, jeez,” Finn growls.

“We still don’t know if it’s a boy or girl,” I remind Kane as I look at the menu.

Kane’s hand finds my knee under the table, squeezing gently. The simple contact sends warmth spreading through me, our bond humming with contentment.

“We should start looking at bigger houses,” Kane says after we’ve ordered, his thumb tracing circles on my knee. “With the pup coming, we’ll need more space.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Finn agrees, leaning back as the waiter places a glass of scotch in front of him. “Something with more land, further from the city. More secure.”

I take a sip of my sparkling water, surprised that they think their current home isn’t big enough.

“I mean, I’m happy where we’re at. But if you think we need a bigger home, I’m not complaining,” I say, and Kane’s hand tightens on my knee. “Somewhere with trees. And maybe a garden? I’ve always wanted to grow my own vegetables.”

“Ooh, I didn’t know you were interested in that,” Jace says, his face animated with the discovery. “I can see it now— you in your sexy overalls, dirt on your nose, as we rut you in the garden.”

“Excuse me?” I say, giggling at the image. “I’m going to be doing real work.”

“Real work is getting bred over and over,” Kane says, rubbing my belly and my pussy throbs.

“I’m already pregnant, though.”

“You’re going to get pregnant again very soon,” he growls, and butterflies swirl in my stomach at the thought. “Right after you give birth.”

The waiter brings our food, and I smile down at my plate, a strange fullness expanding in my chest. I feel so comfortable with my three men and the thought of the baby growing inside.

Halfway through the meal, I feel a sudden, urgent pressure on my bladder. Another fun pregnancy symptom—the constant need to pee. I place my napkin on the table and slide toward the edge of the booth.

“Excuse me for a minute,” I say, and three pairs of eyes immediately focus on me with varying degrees of concern .

“What is it, babe?”

“Bathroom,” I explain simply, grabbing my purse so I can hurry and pee.

“Do you want one of us to come with you?” he asks, half-joking and half-serious. My alphas were very serious about not letting me out of their sight for even a second due to their protective nature.

“To the women’s restroom?” I laugh, kissing his cheek quickly. “I think I can manage to pee on my own, thank you. I’ll be right back.”

The restaurant’s bathroom is as luxurious as the rest of the establishment—marble countertops, fresh flowers in small vases, and plush hand towels instead of paper.

I handle my business quickly, then wash my hands and study my reflection in the mirror as I dry them.

My cheeks look fuller than they did a month ago, a subtle roundness that speaks of the changes happening inside my body.

My breasts, too, have grown noticeably larger, straining against the confines of my bra.

Kane, in particular, has been appreciative of that development.

I’m just touching up my lipstick when the bathroom door swings open, bringing with it a powerful scent that makes my nose wrinkle.

It’s bitter and sharp, like over-brewed coffee mixed with a medicinal substance.

The smell is so strong it momentarily overwhelms my heightened senses, making me blink rapidly to clear the slight dizziness it induces.

A tall woman steps into the bathroom, her long black hair falling in a sleek curtain to her waist. Her lips are painted a deep, vivid red that matches her fitted dress. She’s beautiful in a severe way that puts me on edge.

Our eyes meet in the mirror, and something flickers in her dark gaze—recognition, perhaps, or assessment. She moves to the sink beside mine, her movements fluid and graceful, pulling a lipstick from her purse and uncapping it with manicured fingers.

“Excuse me,” I murmur, trying to edge past her toward the door. Something about her makes my skin prickle, and my instincts scream danger.

“No need to rush off,” she says, her voice surprisingly melodic despite the cold undertone. “It’s not often I meet another omega in the wild.”

I freeze, my heart suddenly pounding against my ribs.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say automatically. She’s an omega. What the hell is going on? I’ve never met another omega before, but it makes sense because of her strong scent. Scents that we can’t control as omegas.

“Of course, you know what I’m talking about,” she sneers. She leans closer, inhaling deeply near my neck. “I can smell it on you. Honey, isn’t it? Sweet little thing. And pregnant, too. How... traditional.”

My hand moves protectively to my stomach before I can stop it.

“I need to get back to my table,” I say, edging toward the door. “My... my boyfriends are waiting.”

“Boyfriends. Plural,” she laughs. “Let me guess. A pack of alphas? How quaint and very perfect.”

The implications of her words send ice through my veins. This isn’t a random encounter.

I abandon all pretense of politeness and bolt for the door, yanking it open and practically running into the hallway that leads back to the main dining room. My heart pounds in my ears, drowning out the ambient noise of the restaurant. I need to get back to Kane, to Finn, to Jace.

I need to tell them about the woman, about her warnings and veiled threats.

I’m so focused on getting back to the safety of my alphas that I don’t notice the figure lurking in the shadowed alcove near the bathrooms. Not until it’s too late.

Suddenly, strong hands grab me from behind, one arm snaking around my waist while the other clamps over my mouth, stifling the scream that instinctively rises in my throat.

He yanks me backward into the darkness, my back colliding with a hard chest as I’m dragged away from the main restaurant.

Terror floods my system, my body thrashing against the iron grip that holds me. The hand over my mouth is large and calloused, smelling of cigarettes and something metallic. Blood, I realize with mounting horror. The arm around my waist tightens, lifting me slightly off the ground.

“Stop struggling,” a male voice hisses in my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “You’ll only make this worse for yourself.”

I bite down on his hand as hard as I can, tasting blood as my teeth break skin.

“Fuck you,” he swears, adjusting his grip to push my head forward painfully, cutting off my airway for a terrifying moment. “Do that again, and I’ll knock you out.”

My mind races as I’m dragged through a service door into what appears to be a back hallway of the restaurant. No one is around to see us, to help me. I try to scream again, the sound pathetically muffled by his hand.

The man’s grip shifts again as he kicks open another door, and in that moment of adjustment, I drive my elbow back as hard as I can into his solar plexus. He grunts in pain, his hold loosening just enough for me to twist in his arms and rake my nails down his face, aiming for his eyes.

“Fuck!” he shouts, one hand going to his bleeding cheek.

I open my mouth to scream, but before the sound can fully form, his fist connects with my temple, sending me crashing against the wall.

Stars explode behind my eyes, pain blooming across my skull.

I slide down to my knees, disoriented and nauseous.

Through the ringing in my ears, I hear him cursing feel his hands grabbing at my arms, pulling me upright. My vision swims, but I can make out his features now—a square jaw, cold eyes, and a fresh set of bleeding scratches down his left cheek. Not someone I recognize.

This has something to do with what I am now. With being an omega.

“Kane,” I whisper, my voice weak and raspy. “Finn. Jace.”

The man laughs, a harsh sound with no humor in it. “They can’t hear you, sweetheart. And by the time they figure out you’re gone, you’ll be halfway across the state.”

No!

The thought of being separated from my alphas is more terrifying than anything this man might do to me. The bond between us, newly healed and stronger than ever, pulses with my fear.

They’ll find me. They always do.

Continue on reading to Book 2! Mating Mia