Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

D axton

The front door opens and slams shut, lights flick on out in the doorway, accompanied by whispered voices.

“Shit, our parents!” Harper gasps, her eyes wide like full moons, her panties down by her knees.

Yeah, shit. Big time shit.

I yank her panties and her shorts back up into place, grab her hand and drag us both onto our feet, wipe my slick-coated fingers on my pants, then stamp on the still buzzing vibrator and kick it under the couch, just as the lounge light flicks on and Harper’s mom and my dad come stumbling into the room. They’re giggling, arms wrapped around each other, sickeningly in love after all this time.

“Mom,” Harper says, just as her mom wraps her arms around my dad’s neck and they lean towards each other.

Both our parents leap up into the air, their gazes jolting our way.

“Harper!” Melanie says, laying a hand against her heart, my dad’s arms still wrapped around her. “You gave me a fright!” Her gaze flicks to me. “And Daxton. Hi. I didn’t know you were coming over.”

“He needed to collect something,” Harper says far too quickly. I’m sure the parents must realize something’s going on. Then again, judging by the look of them, they’ve had several glasses of wine tonight.

“In the middle of the night?” my dad asks me, looking confused.

“I, erm, needed it now,” I say, scratching the back of my head.

“I – we – thought you were in bed,” Harper says.

“Ethan took me out dancing,” Melanie says, squeezing my dad’s cheeks between both her hands. “He’s such a wonderful dancer.”

“So are you, darling,” my dad says, pulling her in closer.

And I really don’t need to see this.

“I’d better get going,” I say, hurrying to the door.

Five seconds ago I was hard as steel, fingering Harper and making her moan. There’s nothing like your horny parents to kill the mood. I’m now as soft as melted butter.

“And I need to get to bed,” Harper says, grabbing an armful of cushions and blankets and heading toward the door.

However, before either of us make it there, Melanie’s grabbed both of us by the arms and is dragging us back into the room.

“No, no, no. Now we’re all here, we might as well enjoy a nightcap together. We haven’t had a chance to be together, just the four of us, since Harper came home. Ethan, would you make us one of your famous Black Russians?”

“Four Black Russians coming up.”

“Mom, I’m really tired and–”

“Harper, I want to hear all about the cook-out. About Daxton’s heroic rescue.” She pushes us both down onto the sofa next to one another. My leg brushing against Harper’s soft thigh, a thigh only moments ago I had in my hand and–

“It was,” she says, turning to look at me and curling a lock of her hair behind her ear. “It was really heroic.”

Melanie lowers herself down onto the armchair in front of us and I suddenly feel like I’m about to be interviewed – possibly interrogated. This is what moms do. Dad has always taken a vague interest in my life – checked I was doing okay at school, had the obligatory birds and bees conversation with me when I was old enough, and took me to sports practice when needed. Having a mom around is completely different.

“So, tell me, when did you first realize something was wrong?” Melanie says. “Was it your alpha senses?”

“‘Alpha senses’, Mom?” Harper says, rolling her eyes. “He’s not Spider-Man.”

“I heard a scream, and immediately knew something was wrong,” I tell her, my pride dented by Harper’s lack of belief in my magical alpha powers. “I saw a girl–”

“Cindy Carlisle,” Harper’s mom says, “I’ve seen a picture. She’s stunning. Absolutely gorgeous.”

“If you like freckles,” Harper mutters.

“ Do you like freckles, Daxton?” Melanie asks me and I can feel Harper’s eyes boring into me.

“Well …” I begin, adjusting my collar which suddenly feels mighty restrictive.

Luckily, I’m saved by my dad arriving with a tray of drinks. He places them down on the side table and hands one first to his wife.

Harper takes her opportunity to nudge me in the ribs and point to the sofa. I give her a big shit-eating grin. She’s concerned about the hidden vibrator. She frowns at me and gives me the middle finger in return.

“I’ve always thought freckles were cute,” Harper’s mom says, making us both jolt like naughty children. “Harper has a cute little sprinkling of them on the bridge of her nose. Had you ever noticed that, Daxton?”

“I, erm …” I take the drink from my dad’s hand and swallow a large gulp. I wasn’t going to drink. Because then I won’t be able to drive home. Which will mean I have to stay the night. In a room only several along from Harper.

Melanie turns to my dad.

“The kids were just telling me about the rescue today. Do you know how many women have messaged and called me today about your son?”

“I’m not surprised,” my dad says with genuine affection, “it’s about time the omegas of this city realized what a catch my son is.”

“Now we just need the alphas to realize what a catch my daughter is,” Melanie says, smiling at her daughter with equal amounts of affection.

I look at Harper and she looks at me.

“Were there any nice alphas at the cook-out today, Harper?” my dad asks her.

I snort. She fidgets on her seat.

“She can be rather fussy,” Melanie whispers loudly, swaying a little in her seat. “But don’t tell her I told you.”

Now Harper snorts. “If I was fussy, I wouldn’t have ended up with an asshole like Laurent.”

“Why did you end up with an asshole like Laurent?” I ask frowning, wondering if I might be able to track the asshole down. Isn’t that what big brothers are meant to do? Beat the shit out of men who treat their sister badly?

I take another gulp of my drink.

Does that mean I have to beat the shit out of myself?

“He wasn’t an asshole at first, but also, I guess, I was lonely, in a new city, not exactly great at the language, and like I said, he was nice, at first.”

“Oh, sweetie.” Melanie leans in and covers her daughter’s hand with her own. “If you were lonely, why didn’t you come home?”

“Because I wanted to show the world that an omega can make it on her own. And anyway, apart from the asshole, things got a lot better. Paris was really special, Mom.”

I look at Harper and realize it’s one of the things I’ve always liked about her, her determination, her bravery – I mean, fuck, how many omegas would come rushing at an intruder armed only with a sex toy.

“I’m so glad you’re home now though, Harper, after your adventures.” Melanie squeezes her daughter’s hand, and then mine. “And I’m pleased you’re home too, Daxton. It’s so lovely to have you both here.”

“Most certainly is,” my dad says, lifting his drink to salute my step-mom’s words.

Melanie smiles, her gaze falling to our hands.

“Oh, dear, Daxton, I think you spilled something on your pants.” She leans forward, squinting at the slick stain on my pants. “What is that?”

Beside me, I can almost feel the heat from Harper’s cheeks.

“I don’t … I mean … it could–”

“Ice cream,” Harper snaps. “It must be ice cream. I was eating it on the couch earlier and must have spilled some. Sorry, Mom.”

“Not to worry, let me fetch a cloth to clean that up.”

“No!” Harper and I snap together.

Melanie looks a little alarmed. “It’s no bother.”

“I’ll toss them in the machine when I get home,” I assure her.

Her eyes flick back to the stain and she frowns.

I’m not sure she’s convinced it’s ice cream, but luckily our parents are both betas with an almost non-existent sense of smell. I rest my hand over the stain, resisting the urge to inhale the scent of Harper’s slick on my pants, and change the subject.

“Where did you kids go tonight?”

Luckily that does it. Melanie launches into a long description of the restaurant and the salsa bar they went to afterwards. I nod along, trying to listen and not steal furtive glances towards my step-sister, her cheeks still flushed from her orgasm, her mascara slightly smudged and her hair all disheveled. She really looks like she ought to be fucked, on the nearest available surface.

“Daxton?”

Everyone is staring at me.

I cough. “Yes?”

“Mom wants to know if you’re going to see Cindy again?” Harper says. Her voice sounds a little stretched.

“Do you think I should?” I say, directing my question at Harper.

“If you like her, then of course you should. Even if you didn’t, you probably should anyway,” Melanie says. “Sometimes people improve on the second date. For example, do you know your father ordered garlic prawns on our first dinner date? Garlic,” she shakes her head and addresses him, “what were you thinking?”

“Probably that my chances of kissing a beautiful, intelligent, amazing woman like you, were very slim.”

“Well,” my step-mom smiles at him, “you were wrong, and very lucky I like garlic.”

“What do you think, Harper?” I say, meeting her gaze. “Do you think we should see her again?”

“I think …” Harper chews on her cheek, “it might be for the best.”

She turns to look back at our parents and I do the same.

Jeez, this is complicated, and maybe she is right. Maybe the sooner we find another omega, the better.