Page 27 of Their Knotty Pack (Starbrook City Omegaverse #3)

Damien

F our nights ago, Bethany was being fucked in this bathroom. The same bathroom where I'm currently on my hands and knees scrubbing the tiles, because I have so much pent up sexual frustration I might literally explode if I don't do something.

I can't believe she slept with him. He's a complete and utter ass ninety-five percent of the time.

It's one thing to hear the noises coming from their nest every night, since Miles and Bethany are clearly much closer than any of us have been with someone else.

But she doesn't even like Kieran. And they've been going at it every night for the last four nights.

It must be their bond driving them together.

I'm sure that's it, even though nobody has said a word to me about it.

One whiff of the bathroom the morning after they did it for the first time, Hunter merely shot me a look that said "It's none of your damn business, Damien, don't you dare say a word. "

So I haven't, just like a good little beta.

Instead, I tell Bethany how ravishing she looks, and make flirty little comments to Miles every morning on the drive to work since we carpool now. Even if he immediately disappears up the stairs to take a shower every day when we get home and then I don't see him until dinner .

I take every opportunity to make sure they know that I want them.

They're my damn scent matches, even if I am "just a beta".

I scrub harder at the upstairs bathroom floor, my dick throbbing at the thought that a very naked Miles is just down the hall, showering off the de-scenter he's required to wear to work.

I know they don't owe me anything. I know I'm not entitled to them. But holy shit, a man can only take so much. I haven't had sex since Bethany's heat, and before that, I went four months. For a man that was used to having an affair every other day? It's like I'm being tortured.

And it's not like I want just anyone, either. It's them .

Bethany and Miles. If I thought they'd agree, I'd at least ask them to take pity on me and let me watch them while they make love.

I can't even call it fucking, with the way they look at each other.

It's clear that whatever they have between the two of them far surpasses the pull of the true scent match.

Soul mates.

So I scrub out my sexual frustration, deep-cleaning a new room each day, even though it doesn't really need it. My yellow rubber gloves, a tauntingly cheery color, drip water as I pull my sponge out of the bucket and clean the next tile.

Is it something I'm doing that's putting them off me? Am I being too forward? I can't help it if I'm naturally gifted at making my desires known. Though, nothing seems to have changed between Kieran and Bethany in the light of day. He's still a complete ass, and she bites back every time.

Hunter's told me not to get involved, but maybe next time they fight, I’ll jump in. Take her side. I've been wanting to anyway, considering she's in the right ninety percent of the time.

My phone starts to ring in my pocket, and I sit back on my knees to answer, taking off my gloves.

"I'm a little busy right now, Hunter. "

He snorts. "Are you stress cleaning the bathrooms again?

" I scowl. He knows my stress-habits better than anyone.

Growing up together will do that to you.

It makes me feel like even worse of a friend for not noticing his sexual orientation.

I just thought he was a prude. "It's either that or fucking, and I know you wouldn't step out on our omegas like that. "

Suddenly I'm not feeling as bad.

"None of your business. Do you actually have anything to say or are you just calling to interrogate me?"

I swear I can hear him roll his eyes. "I just wanted to let you guys know that I'm not going to be home for dinner tonight."

"Hunter?" I ask, my tone as sweet as honey. "You explained that you have to forge an emotional connection to someone to be interested in them physically."

"That's right…" he says slowly.

"So can you please explain how you plan on creating that connection if you're never fucking here?"

He sighs. "Listen, I know it's bad, but we just got a lead on that trafficking case I've been working on the last six months. I have to check it out."

We hang up shortly after, and I shake my head, putting my phone back in my pocket and pulling my gloves back on. I get that he needs to work, but I'd bet my left nut that he's at the station much longer than he's required.

Closing the bathroom door so it's only open a crack, I get the flooring behind the door as fresh and fucking sparkly clean as anything.

Except…that spot I missed just inside the room. A shoe print. Who the hell brought shoes upstairs? Grumbling to myself, I hunch forward, attempting to scour all traces of the damn shoe from my otherwise immaculate bathroom.

I bet it was Kieran. That giant man with his motorcycle boots and stupid grin. This print looks to be just his size too —

A flash of blinding pain in my forehead jolts me from my thoughts, and as I fumble backwards, my hand drops the sponge I was holding. "Fuck!" I gasp, immediately flinging off my glove and clutching my head.

"Oh my gods!" Bethany squeals, peeking her head through the door. "Damien? Are you okay?"

Shit. That hurts. I look at the hand that had been clutching my head and see blood. Geez, she was really hightailing it into the room, wasn't she?

She gasps, her eyes on my hand before I place it back on my forehead. "Damien, I am so sorry, I didn't realize you were in here." She gently pushes the door open enough for her to come in and crouch in front of me.

"It's alright, bright eyes," I grimace, wincing at the stinging in my forehead, "why wouldn't you come storming into a bathroom that you almost never use?" Maybe Miles is still in the shower?

Her cheeks flush bright red, but she doesn't answer me. Instead, her eyes roam my face, looking for any more damage before standing and grabbing a hand towel from the rack.

"Here," she gently moves my hand and presses the towel to my head, "hold that there, I have a first aid kit in the nest bathroom. Do you want to come with me or should I grab it and come back?"

She's inviting me into their nest? Maybe not in the traditional sense, but hey, a win is a win.

"I can come with you." I try not to sound too eager. Be chill, Damien. Be. Chill .

She does her best to help me stand, which is adorable considering I'm much larger than her and don’t need her help, but I like her fussing over me.

Especially when that involves her putting her arm around my back like she could actually support any of my weight should I suddenly collapse. I'll have to make sure to lean in the other direction if I do happen to pass out .

Fuck. Am I going to need stitches?

We fumble down the hall to her nest, and when she pushes the door open, my jaw nearly drops.

Blue of every shade—the navy of the bedding, which is obviously Miles' influence, to the lightest of blue throw pillows which match Bethany's eyes perfectly.

Heavy curtains cover the windows, but soft, twinkling lights are strung up around the room, as well as on the frame of the nest mattress.

A few potted plants hang from the ceiling, and more line small shelves on the walls.

It's like walking into an evening sky.

The bathroom door is open, the humidity in the air a stark reminder that Miles was in here not too long ago.

Bethany guides me to the bed, and my senses go into overdrive. I may not be an alpha, but my sense of smell is finely tuned to my omegas and I can't ignore the way raspberry, blueberry, dark chocolate and hibiscus swirl around me as she disappears into the attached bathroom.

Down boy , I adjust my cock in my pants with my free hand as I watch bright eyes flip through the cabinets.

I can't believe that I had gone so long without knowing what Miles' smelled like. Damn scent-blocker policy at work. One whiff of him at the beginning of Bethany's heat was life-altering.

It wasn't just the smell, either.

I'm not gonna lie, when Brody, Kieran and I entered that heat suite and I was met face to face with the omega I've been dreaming about the last three years, I was shocked—in the best way.

But then, when he moved aside and revealed the delicious, curvy, dark haired goddess?

And we were scent-matched to both of them?

The way they looked together during her heat?

Gods, it was the best five days of my life.

Even now, with blood dripping into my eye and the spot where the door hit me throbbing like motherfucker, I can't keep my eyes off her. Her strands of hair falling into her face. Her pouty lips pursing as she searches for the first aid kit. The way her ass curves as she bends over—

"Got it!" She calls out, holding up the little box and coming over to me. She has a wet rag in her other hand, and I hiss as she pulls away the towel to clean up the blood. "Sorry," she winces, "I'll try to make this quick."

Not too quick, I hope, considering with the way she's bending over in front of me, I can catch a glimpse of the tops of her perky, round—

"Shit!" I nearly jump as she presses a small, cold wipe to my forehead. That burns.

Can a man not finish a lewd thought around here?

"Huh." She looks at me for a second, "That sure was bleeding a lot from such a tiny cut."

Tiny? There's no way this thing can be tiny. It hurts like a bitch and there was more blood than I've seen from a cut.

Plus, she'll think I'm weak if that's the case.

Frowning, I take out my phone and open the front-facing camera. Geez. It'll bruise, that's for sure. But the actual cut? It's about the length of half my thumbnail. No stitches required.

Smiling softly, she pulls a butterfly bandage out of its wrapping and gently places it on my forehead, pulling the skin together.