Page 26 of Two For the Show (Trapped On The Tightrope Duet #2)

Quinton doesn’t know how close Alex is to falling in love with him.

She may not even be aware of it yet. But I can feel it. I can recognize it in her bond, because it’s exactly the way I feel when I look at him.

That’s the thing about Quinton Black. It’s impossible not to love him. There is something about that man that is undeniable.

I knew he’d be the first one to capture her heart. From the moment he explained to me what nest shopping together meant, some part of me knew. Her Omega needs his Alpha, and it has nothing to do with the Foresaken Omega Syndrome or Rot.

There is a piece of her that breaks the norm and has been waiting for someone like Quinton to cherish it.

Quinton is not a stereotypical Alpha. He’s smaller, gentler, calmer. He’s got this aura about him that draws people in and puts them at ease. I saw it in action right when she joined us, and I see it now in the way they lazily kiss one another .

Piece by piece, thread by thread, they are weaving themselves together, and both will come out stronger for it.

I could watch the two of them together for hours.

Alex probably doesn’t want to hear it yet, or maybe she doesn’t need to because she can already feel it through our bond, but I’m absolutely crazy about her, too.

I think what cemented it is the way she so easily took care of Quinton when I fucked up and cut him. I was careless, not considering how a new sound crew would impact our act, and he paid the price for it.

But Alex didn’t judge me for my mistake. She immediately jumped into action, fixing him up with ease and commanding me around in a way that was so natural it was like we’d worked alongside one another for our whole lives.

While things with Quinton immediately felt like the beginning of forever, with Alex, it feels like our souls have always known each other.

The moment I realized what she was to me had previously been the worst of my life.

Quinton was nearly gone to the Rot, passed out, and I wasn’t sure if he’d be able to come out of it.

And then she came barrelling in, even though she was sick, even though she was a complete mess, and there was nothing medically she could do. She came, and she tried anyway.

Because she tried, we realized what we are to one another.

She saved my Alpha and became my Omega in one breath.

A soft sound reaches me from the couch. Alex and Q are still entangled, and while one of Q’s arms braced awkwardly behind the couch to not stress his healing stitches, the other is wrapped around her waist, pulling her snug against him .

I don’t want to interrupt them. I want to grab my sketchpad and some charcoal and capture the beauty of this moment so I can carry it with me forever.

Despite what I want, dinner is ready, and the breading on the chicken parmesan will get soggy if we wait much longer to dig in, so I have to be the bad guy and cut their fun short.

I clear my throat. “Dinner is ready.”

The two throw themselves on opposite sides of the couch like teenagers caught by their parents, and I stifle a laugh. They both look deliciously rumpled, cheeks flushed, and their hair a mess.

We chose Quinton’s trailer tonight instead of mine simply because he wanted to capture her scent here. He thinks if he locks this place up tight, it will stay forever.

Though it is thick in the air right now with her arousal, it won’t, but I’m not going to begrudge him the attempt.

They slide into their seats, opposite sides of the square table, and I sit down between them.

“This looks delicious. Thank you, Matteo,” Alex says as she picks up her fork. “I can’t believe you were able to put this together in this tiny kitchen.”

Her compliment has me feeling like a proud peacock.

Betas are often said to be the ones who support Omegas, nurture them when Alphas are too dominant.

Providing a meal for her is an instinctual way of showing her how well I will be able to care for her.

“It was nothing, really. I’ve always liked to cook. ”

“Matteo’s dad is a chef,” Quinton says around a bite of food. “He practically grew up in the kitchen.”

“Really?” she asks, after swallowing a bite. “What kind of stuff did you cook?”

“I mean, we did a little bit of everything, but my favorite was when my grandmother would join us in the kitchen.” I twirl some pasta on my fork. “My grandparents are from El Salvador, so learning the history and culture of my family through food was important to all of us.”

“Oh, I love that! I can’t say I’ve ever had food from El Salvador.” She cuts into the chicken and looks at me curiously. “What’s it like?”

“Delicious,” Quinton sighs. “I would use a pupusa as a pillow if I could. Oh, and he fried yucca for me once. I prefer it to fries now. So fucking good.”

“Too bad it’s not a good idea to deep fry in one of these trailers,” I say with a laugh. “But I’ll make you some one day.”

She smiles, and it’s so lovely it almost makes me dizzy. “I can’t wait!” After taking a few more bites, her face turns contemplative, and she puts her fork down.

“What’s on your mind?” I ask.

“I was thinking about how there really aren’t any recipes that have been passed down in my family. I don’t think I have anything to teach our kids how to cook.”

Our kids.

Our kids.

Our kids.

Not her kids.

Our kids.

She seems to register what she said the same moment Quinton does, and they talk over each other.

“You want kids?”

“Not to say we’re having kids!”

They laugh awkwardly, Alex rubbing the back of her neck. “It was a slip of the tongue,” she says softly.

“So you don’t want kids?” Quinton’s never mentioned wanting kids to me before, but he’d be a fun dad, I think. I have always wanted a big family, but whether that’s through a pack or children never mattered to me .

“There is so much I want to see and do,” Alex says thoughtfully. “I would like children, I think, but I’m in no rush and I don’t think I’d be upset if it never happened. The… other three were insistent that I was going to give them pups, and it really turned me off to the whole idea.”

I place my fork on my plate and rest my chin on my palm. “But it’s on the table now?”

“This feels like something we should’ve talked about before I went all chain chomp on you and tethered you to me forever.”

Quinton snorts. “I’m never going to look at Super Mario Bros the same way again. I’m gonna see you as the chain chomp and let it get me every time.”

She balls a napkin up and throws it at him childishly. “I’m serious! We’re a pack now. These are the sort of things normal people discuss before bonding, but I’m over here, all ‘bite first, ask questions later’, and I don’t even know why I’m doing it!”

“Because you like us,” Quinton teases. “You realized how tasty my Beta is and took a bite out of him. Now you’re coming for all of us!”

“Like you’d complain if she latched onto you right now,” I say, standing up and gathering our empty plates. “And don’t make her feel guilty about it. I’m flattered that her Omega felt so safe with me, so quickly, that she locked me down immediately.”

“I still can’t believe you’re not mad at me about it,” she says, following me to the sink. “I feel like you should be mad at me.”

“Why?” I ask, turning on the warm water and squirting some soap in the sink. “Do you want me to be mad about it?”

“Maybe!” She grabs a kitchen towel and waits for me to hand her a plate to dry before saying quietly. “Yeah, I think I want you to be a little mad at me.”

“Why?” I ask again. “Why do you need me to be upset that you chose me?”

“Because I would be mad if it happened to me,” she answers honestly. “I don’t like having my choices taken away from me, and I feel like that’s exactly what I did to you.”

“I always had a choice,” I remind her. “I could easily have pushed your bond out, refused it. I knew what I was doing. You don’t need to feel bad about it.”

“Logically, I know that. It’s just that lately, I feel like logic has no place in my brain. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m sort of all over the place.”

Before I have the chance to reassure her, again, that I’m not upset, Quinton pops up beside me, startling me into dropping a fork in the sink and splashing bubbly water on my shirt. “I think I know what she needs,” he purrs.

“What?” Her tone is incredulous, like there’s no way he could possibly know the validation she seeks.

But there is a glint in Q’s eyes that I’ve seen before, and I have a feeling about where this is going. I have to bite my tongue to keep from interjecting.

I need to let this play out.

He scoops up a few soap bubbles on the tip of his finger and plops them on her nose. “It’s simple. You need to be punished.”