Chapter Thirty-Six

Red

The difference is like night and day.

Two weeks ago, Eve couldn't be on her feet for more than an hour. But now, with all the extra attention we've been giving her, she's practically bouncing off the walls.

"Can we go to the market today?" she asks, staring up at Baxter with puppy dog eyes.

"Which market, omega?"

She frowns knowingly. "There's only one ‘market' out here."

"I'm down," I cut in, pinching her ass as I move through the kitchen. Marcus is at the hospital until five, which puts me on meal prep duty. Well, me and Eve, but my inner alpha won't let her near the knives, or the scalding dishwater, so she's mostly been delegated to taste-testing.

Baxter considers. "Alright. Take Thorn with you."

" Thorn ?" I groan.

He and Eve give me a look.

"Sorry. He's just so …" Controlling? Grumpy? Paranoid ? All things I give him plenty of credit for—but between the new security cameras, motion sensors, and protection details, he's hardly given us a second to breathe.

"Red," Eve frowns, "don't be mean."

I sigh, wrapping my arms around her. "Yeah, yeah. You say that now, but when he's ‘sweeping the perimeter' three times over, you'll thank me."

"No she won't," Baxter says, sternly, "because he's going."

I muffle any other complaints in the top of Eve's head, breathing in her sweet citrus scent.

***

Okay. Two sweeps.

Still, though.

We finally pull up in a shady spot in the local parking lot. It's busier than normal for early afternoon. Thorn helps Eve out of the back, me flanking her other side. Like he taught me.

"Know what you need?" he asks.

"Snacks," Eve says definitively.

Even Thorn has to soften at that, his lip twitching in a smile.

There are few things in this life that bring me joy quite like watching my omega deliberate on what kind of chocolate the pup is craving. When she's not looking, I slip the second option into the basket—can't hurt to have them both.

Thorn prowls ahead of us. His pheromones are like a bitter chill, warding off any shoppers who get too close.

"You're not thinking big enough," I tell Eve as she scrutinizes a packet of red licorice. She cocks her head at me, and I grin. "Savory ."

Her eyes light up. "But … I already have all this other stuff."

"Doesn't matter," Thorn says over his shoulder. Then, muttering, "I'd buy out the whole store if it meant avoiding these crowds."

Eve and I share a knowing look, noting an elderly couple wandering down the aisle.

"This is what you call a crowd?" she teases.

I smirk. "Our big bad second doesn't get out much."

I half-expect Thorn to retaliate. Protecting Eve is, like … his whole job. Any attempt to make light of that isn't normally met with kindness.

Instead, luckily, he stops, waiting for Eve to approach. "You think that's funny, omega?"

She nods innocently.

He pinches her chin. "Funny enough to get punished for?"

Eve turns bright scarlet. She glances frantically about the aisle, making sure no-one overheard him, but I don't miss the hint of arousal emanating from her scent.

Maybe she's remembering the last time we ‘punished' her .

Noticing the curious looks from passing shoppers, I hiss to Thorn, "Now who can't keep it in his pants?"

When I check his face again, something has changed. That playfulness from just a second ago is gone, replaced by something much more dangerous. My inner alpha springs to alert.

"Thorn—" I start.

He wraps his arm around Eve, driving her toward the exit. She half-chirps in surprise.

I drop the basket and follow, looking around our surroundings with a newfound focus. What can Thorn see, or smell, or hear, that I can't? I need to find it. Need to pinpoint it, so I can help him protect our omega.

"Red," Thorn says. I grab the door and the three of us burst out into the parking lot. He passes Eve to my arms. "Get her to the car. And stay there ."

"Wait," I snap, tucking her face against my chest, " why ? What the fuck did you see?"

He silences me with a snarl.

That snarl is the last thing we see before he slips back inside.

Alright. Fuck. Okay. Threat to our omega. Are we under attack? If so, our enemy must be doped all the fuck up on suppressants. Even now, I can't scent anything except my omega's fear.

Omega's fear .

"Hey, hey," I try to purr for her. "It's okay. You're gonna be okay."

"Thorn," she panics, "where's he—?"

"Thorn's got everything under control." And his last orders were for me to get Eve to the car.

I help her across the parking lot, my arm tightening around her waist until I can feel that precious little bump, our pup tucked safely inside.

Throwing the back door open, I lift her inside. "Okay, baby girl. Take it easy. I'm here."

I'm not a fan of the way she's breathing—only hoarse, shallow pockets of air reaching her lungs. My mind races, wishing more than anything that Thorn would get his ass back here. Or better yet, that Baxter would materialize out of thin air to tell me what to do.

"Inhaler," I blurt out. There's a spare in the dash, but before I can reach for it, Eve grabs my wrist.

"No," she shakes her head. "Don't—need it."

"Have you heard yourself?" I snap, then groan. "Sorry. That's not what—"

" Red ."

I finally meet her eyes. They're foggy and faraway—trying desperately to find their way back to me. I can tell by her scent—scared, but sweet, almost sickly sweet—that her omega has taken charge.

Just like that, my uncertainty dissipates. I don't need Thorn, or Baxter.

All I need is my inner alpha, who guides my hands to Eve's waist, slides her underwear to the side, and yanks down my zipper. She's panting above me. Already soaked.

She probably doesn't even realize what she's asking of me, nor does she give a damn that we're in the middle of a parking lot behind semi-tinted windows. All she's conscious of is fear, and stress, and how badly she needs relief.

The only way her omega knows how.