Page 5

Chapter Five

I wish I could say the scent of bacon woke me for Sunday brunch, but of course, it didn’t. Instead, it was the incessant banging of pots and pans that roused me from Dreamland. The loud clanging is purposeful, a not-so-subtle reminder that my mother would love my presence downstairs, helping her instead of snoozing the morning away.

Omegas take care of the family. The glue that spreads love everywhere.

And in this home, we show our love through food. A fact that’s become stranger and harder for me since losing my sense of smell. I used to love cooking with my mother, sliding my white stool next to her as a child so that she could teach me all her secrets. Bubbles at the top of the pancakes mean it’s time to flip. Bake the bacon instead of frying it so you don’t get burned by flying grease. And most of all, hum while you work—it bakes the love right in.

Now, though, food only brings me stress. With every bite, my parents watch me, wondering if today will be the day that something clicks and returns to the way it used to be. The doctors have all said there’s a good chance I’ll get my sense of smell back, but it hasn’t happened yet. So, eating kind of sucks. Yes, some foods still have a flavor, but few are anything like my memories.

Only churros and caramel sauce remain untarnished.

The ruckus below gets louder, and I watch the blades of my fan spin overhead, rotating around and around like my swirling nerves. The soft blue-and-pink cotton sheets surrounding me feel like heaven on my sensitive omega skin, and truth be told, I don’t want to move. My eyes flutter shut, and the image of Miller, his eyes wild and vengeful as he stared down those assholes yesterday, comes to mind. His thick thighs, taut butt, and all that silky black hair I want to rub my fingers through until the end of time.

Desire writhes within me like a livewire, and my clit lights up, pulsing with need. Slick dampens my silk sleep shorts, and my eyes dart to the doorknob, making sure the lock is firmly in place before I let my hand glide over my belly.

The swell quivers as I move lower, slipping my fingers below the elastic waistband.

It’s wrong. It’s so freaking wrong. He’s my brother’s best friend. And he fucking hates me.

Blue eyes flash in my mind, and I thrust my fingers between my soaked folds to coat them in my juices. A desperate moan climbs up my throat when I bring them back to my aching clit. My skin flushes, heat crawling through my veins as I circle the tender bundle of nerves. Slick pools between my legs, and a faint pleasure flows through me with barely any stimulation. This is going to be a quick one.

Allowing my eyes to flutter closed, I conjure the image of Miller—hips thrusting as he went through his stretches yesterday. My mouth waters instantly, and I spread my legs wider, bringing a finger down to my aching core.

“Posie! Are you awake yet?” my dad shouts, banging on the door. The sound makes me jump, and my cheeks heat with embarrassment, even though there’s no way he could know what I was doing. Yanking my fingers away, I stare at the door, willing the knob not to turn. Thankfully, he doesn’t go that far, instead knocking again. “Posie. It’s almost breakfast. Time to get up, lazybones.”

Clearing my throat, I finally manage to answer.

“I’m up. I’m up,” I call back, hoping he mistakes my rough voice for sleep instead of lust. There’s no damn privacy in this house. Just another reason I need to get out of here.

With quiet resolve, I reluctantly slip from my bed and head toward my ensuite bathroom to get cleaned up. Although I can’t smell myself, I’m still an omega, and I don’t need my scent to give away my secrets.

“Posie! Come on!” Owen shouts, “We’re starving!”

“I’m coming!” My feet stumble on the stairs. I wasn’t aware he was even joining us for breakfast today, and I bite my lip, trying to decide if I should run back to my room quickly for my de-scenting lotion. I rarely use it around the house, but it’s my best armor when we have guests. If I can’t scent them, they shouldn’t be able to scent me. An itch breaks out at the mere thought of slathering it on, and my skin screams at me for a break.

“Let’s go,” Crimson shouts, adding a little Alpha power behind his words. I’m quite sensitive to commands, so my feet rush to obey, and I trip down the last two stairs, pinwheeling my arms in an attempt not to fall flat on my face.

A shrill shriek leaves me, and I struggle to keep up, finally losing the battle and pitching forward. Reaching through the air for the banister as a last-ditch attempt, my hands come up empty, flailing through the air.

My breath gusts out when I smack into a hard wall of muscle, and two strong arms band tightly around me. The touch instantly soothes my nerves, and my head falls against a broad shoulder. A simple save shouldn’t feel this good, but my omega’s riding me hard, needing snuggles more than air .

“Thank you,” I say, lifting my head to see who my savior is. Two shockingly blue eyes stare down at me, and I gasp when he smiles. “Miller…”

Slick soaks my panties instantly, and my pussy throbs with desire. His nose flares, scenting my need, and he frowns, placing me on my feet and stepping back like he’s just been burned.

“I’m so sorry,” I begin, completely mortified, but Miller waves it away and moves toward the dining room.

“I’m used to you being clumsy, Puff,” he jokes, using the hated nickname, and I want to run back upstairs, lock myself in my room and never come out again. “Let’s get some food before Crimson and Damien eat it all.”

Should have gone back upstairs for the scent blockers.

Knowing everyone inside the dining room is waiting for me, I take a deep breath, square my shoulders, and enter. Everyone is already sitting and passing food around. There’s only one seat left open—the one directly across from Miller . Of course .

Hanging my head, I slip onto the hard wooden seat and do my best to avoid eye contact. A croissant is placed gently onto my plate, then some eggs. I look up appreciatively, but a blush burns my cheeks when I realize it’s Miller making me a plate.

“Yo, you okay?” Damien asks, jabbing an elbow into my side. He’s taking his role as pack sibling very seriously lately, but even his antics don’t calm my racing nervous system. Still reeling from my embarrassment, I simply nod my head.

“No. She’s not,” Miller snaps, the silverware clinking in his hand as he stops serving himself. “Crimson’s stupid bark sent her catapulting down the damn stairs. Be more careful with her. ”

His tone causes everyone to freeze, and tension seeps into the air. I don’t need to smell it to know everyone is stressed. The silence in the room is deafening.

“It’s all right. I’m not hurt,” I whisper, unable to lift my head with so many eyes trained on me. All my people-pleasing instincts just want everyone to move on.

“My poor baby. Crimson, no more barking in the house,” my mom admonishes him, and he gives me puppy dog eyes in apology.

Embarrassment lodges like a ball in my throat, and tears prickle in my eyes. Slouching, I try to disappear into my chair, wishing the world would swallow me whole. I’m so fucking sick of everyone looking at me like I’m pathetic. A child.

And it’s long past time for that narrative to change.

It’s time to grow up and live your own life. If not now—never.

“I’m moving out,” I blurt, my voice quiet but strong. A fork clatters onto a plate, breaking the spell.

“What did you say? What did she say?” my mother’s shrill voice screams from the other end of the table, and I swallow hard before raising my chin. Channeling my frustration, I roll my shoulders back and project a confidence I don’t feel.

My insides quiver at my parents’ frowning faces, and I want to take it back just to keep them happy, but Owen snickers, and it’s enough to have me pushing forward.

“It’s time for me to move out. I’m a senior in college, practically an adult. I’m moving in with Emma and Mari.” I clasp my shaking hands in my lap, ready for the explosion, and I’m not disappointed .

“Absolutely not,” Papa says, shoving his chair away from the table and standing.

“It’s not safe, Posie,” Dad agrees. “You’re an omega. Do you know what can happen to omegas?”

“Other omegas live on their own,” I point out, standing too. If we’re going to have this out, we might as well make the ground as even as possible.

My brother snorts out a laugh, and my eyes narrow on him. Crossing my arms over my stomach, I stare down the room and dare them to speak up.

“Sweetheart, you’re not other omegas, though,” my mom cries, covering her eyes. Guilt makes my stomach clench. I hate upsetting her; she’s been so fragile since the accident. “You’re my daughter. My baby. And I need you here.”

“But that’s the thing… I’m not a child anymore. I’m a fully functioning adult. Omega or not. I can live on my own!” I appeal to their logic, wincing at how loud my voice comes out. My eyes fall on Miller, who gazes at me, a soft smile quirking his lips.

What the hell’s so amusing, buddy?

Swallowing hard, I try to rein in my volatile emotions all while I seethe. No one in this room understands my need for independence. A chance to get out of my father’s Hall of Fame shadow and my brother’s elite status. I don’t need to be controlled, and they only want me to be the well-behaved omega I’m supposed to be. Sitting patiently at home under my parents' watchful eyes until I find a mate.

“No, you cannot,” Papa thunders back, rounding the table to loom over me. I lock my jaw and stare up into his eyes.

“It’s not your decision to make,” I hiss, spinning to leave .

Stomping across the room, I’m almost home free when a bark stops me dead in my tracks.

“Posie, sit.”

Though I try to fight it, my knees buckle at the command, and I flop down onto the floor.

Fucking omega biology…