Chapter Twenty-Five

Red

We're still taking photos when Marcus gets home. Apart from the occasional break for meds and snacks, we're relentless. I want to see her face-on, on her side, sitting down, lying down, topless, pantless, and everything in between.

My alpha is out in full force. Eve is full of us. Completely, totally, perfectly bred.

"You're such a good girl," I groan, scenting her vigorously.

Of course, this is the moment Marcus walks through the front door, still in his scrubs. He stops.

"Woah, what's going on?"

He takes note of Thorn with his camera, Baxter preening, and me and Riley either drooling or hard as diamonds.

He locks eyes with Eve. "Everything okay?"

"They wanted a little photoshoot," she says, her pheromones billowing with embarrassment. "Of me and the pup."

"You and the …" then he casts his gaze down, finding Eve's stomach—her little pup bump—exposed beneath her bralette. He swallows. "Oh. Wow."

"Isn't she pretty?" Riley sighs.

"She's beautiful," Baxter agrees, rising. I think I might even catch him adjusting himself before he picks up Eve's shirt, helping her put it back on. "But I think that's probably enough for the day."

My alpha huffs. Way to kill the mood .

I feel Thorn's eyes on me like he's expecting a snide comment. But no. I've pissed Baxter off enough in the last couple days—I'm not gonna push my luck.

Then, suddenly, it dawns on me. Shit. Marcus is home! I was supposed to meal prep, like, a hundred things before he got back.

"Sorry, man," I say, "I guess I lost track of time."

Marcus looks between me and Eve. I can tell he disapproves, even when he covers it up with a smile. "No worries."

He disappears upstairs to take a quick shower while I scramble to get everything ready. Onions … garlic … bell peppers. And the meat. I groan inwardly. Which was meant to be marinating hours ago .

"Need a hand?"

Eve rounds the kitchen counter. Oh, god, suddenly all I can see is that pup bump, like a miniature sun in the center of her body, glowing brilliantly.

She's already peeling garlic when I snap out of it. "Here you go—" she says, passing me the naked cloves. "You can do the crushing."

I grin. "My favorite part."

If I'd guessed cooking could be like this—teasing, listening to music, talking about nothing with my omega—I would've made Marcus teach me years ago. I know Eve's still not feeling totally herself, and I'm not feeling totally myself, what with everything that's happened lately, but that just makes moments like these that bit more important.

The song picks up. I twirl Eve into me, threatening to dip her, and she muffles a squeal into my shoulder.

"Jesus, Red—are you crazy?"

Marcus swoops in, hair still damp from the shower, and whisks Eve right out of my arms.

"We're just cooking," Eve says innocently.

"You've been on your feet too long," Marcus insists. His eyes slash up at me, an icy sapphire. "Red knows that."

If it were Thorn, Riley or even Baxter telling me off, I might've snapped back—at least their reprimand I'm used to. But coming from Marcus, it hits different. Sharper.

I clear my throat. "Yeah. My bad."

For a second I think Eve is going to resist. But then Marcus sits her on the barstool, and she puts a hand on her stomach, as though reminding herself, and me, why he's so high-strung.

What he's protecting.

***

Eve talks to her sisters every day. At first, she locks herself in the study, but then she starts to get bold, carrying her phone around the den.

"Doesn't it freak you out?" I mutter to Thorn as Eve turns on FaceTime, showing Flora around the living room. "Letting them see inside the den?"

He quirks an eyebrow. "You expecting a raid?"

"Well … no." But aren't you ?

Then it occurs to me that if Mr Paranoid, I-have-a-gut-feeling-at-all-times Thorn isn't losing his head over this, maybe I shouldn't be either.

Some days are better than others. One afternoon, Eve prances into the office and puts herself on my lap, beaming brightly.

"Hey, you." I grin, dropping everything so I can wrap my arms around her. "Something good happen?"

She nuzzles me like she's trying to spread the joy through her scent. "Turns out Flora's due date is only a month after mine. Which means our pups are going to be very close in age!"

"Oh …" I glance over my shoulder at Riley, sitting at her own desk, who shrugs. "That's great."

"It is great! It'll be a lot easier for them to become friends, and play together, and even have birthday parties together."

Woah, woah, woah … birthday parties? Just how close is she planning to get with Pack Coffs?

Eve frowns, noting my hesitation. "You're not happy."

I try to remember what Baxter said. Marcus, too. Eve needs to make her own choices. More than that … she needs a family. That includes other omegas and, apparently, their pups.

I sigh, tucking her hair back. "You're happy, I'm happy."

Then, of course, there are the days where she isn't so happy. Barely twenty-four hours after the birthday party incident, she slinks into the office and puts herself in not in mine or Riley's laps, but in her makeshift nest on the carpet.

We spin around, regarding her worriedly. "You okay?" Riley asks.

"Yeah." Eve shrinks into the blankets. "Just need to rest."

I want to ask more questions, but even more than that, I do want her to rest … so I drop it.

It doesn't take me long to figure out the pattern. When Eve talks to Flora, her mood skyrockets, but when she talks to Lucille—or tries to—it slumps back down.

"—just want to help," Eve speaks lowly in the other room. I peer around the doorframe, seeing she has FaceTime open, an icy-looking omega I assume is Lucille on the other line.

" You've helped enough ."

God, that venom—just hearing it is almost enough for me to rip the phone right out of Eve's hands.

"You'll find another pack," Eve insists. "Alphas who are kind , and strong, and—"

" Christ, Evie, you know as well as I do that no-one's going to look at me twice without Pack Carson in my corner ."

So it's true—Carson really has turned their back on her. For a second I feel a pang of sympathy, remembering just how shitty life can be for an omega, but then she goes on.

" Peter won't answer my calls. Brennan's gone radio silent, too. They probably figured out what you've been up to." A sneer in her voice. " Turning me and Flora against them. "

Eve hardens. "They turned against us first, Lucille."

" I'm nothing like you ."

Maybe you should be, I want to snarl. At least then I'd be more inclined to help her, and less inclined to snap Eve's phone in half.

I lose track of the conversation, caught up in my inner dialogue and all the things I wish I could say to this omega who has no right being Eve's sister.

Suddenly Eve hangs up the phone. I scramble to disguise myself, pretending I haven't been eavesdropping. Turns out I don't need to bother. Eve sinks right back into the couch, hands on her stomach.

Brow creased in thought.