Chapter Thirty-Nine

Baxter

A good chunk of Eve's fifth month is spent in lockdown.

Now we know the press are out and about, staking out the regional packlands in case Pack Maddox makes an appearance, I've put everyone under strict orders: no leaving the den unless it's for work, essentials, or emergencies.

At least we know the den is secure. Thanks to Thorn's recent paranoia, we're safer than ever.

He tried to warn you , my inner alpha reminds me, and you wrote him off.

What else was I supposed to do? My second-in-command has a history of becoming volatile the second Eve is put in harm's way. He's been doing better, but with Eve pregnant? I didn't want to encourage him. Especially without sufficient evidence.

Then he dragged that sleazy photographer up to our den and gave me a look that might as well have read, This evidence enough for you ?

There was no way I'd let her leave with that shot of Thorn and Eve. So I bought her off. Son of a bitch charged me probably twice what the damn photo is worth, but I rationalized it by taking her camera, as well as the extra film. Can't be too careful.

Eve asked me if I was going to post it myself. I told her no—at least, not yet. We needed some time to go digging and find out if the photographer was talking out of her ass.

It took Thorn less than half a day to infiltrate the local press—digging around their forums, fishing for big cash rewards.

"Roughly fifty-five per cent of the jobs being listed have something to do with Pack Maddox," he announced grimly.

I decided in that moment not to ask why he hadn't discovered this sooner, remembering what he'd already explained. They'd been smart enough to keep him busy, directing all the higher-end jobs his way, flooding his channels so that he didn't have the need, or time, to seek work elsewhere.

No wonder he would even consider leaking that photo. If the press have gotten close enough to infiltrate Thorn's work , god knows what else they might figure out.

We need to take away their incentive. Give the people what they want, and hope that's enough to quell their interest once and for all.

Except I can't bring myself to do it.

For the dozenth morning in a row, I sit in my study, staring down at the camera screen. Eve looks so sweet in the market aisle, blushing innocently, even as her eyes betray a lustful knowing. She has one hand on her stomach, drawing my gaze down to her bump. Even as her head alpha, there's something oddly invasive about my viewing the image. I mean, I've seen Thorn balls-deep inside of her, but this is another level of intimacy altogether. Fleeting. Off-guard.

Knowing that, how can I possibly share this with the rest of the world?

A knock at the door snaps me out of it. I hastily put the camera away. "Yes?"

Riley enters. "Got a second?" I gesture her in and she sighs. "Eve's been sick again. And she's still feeling woozy."

I frown, keeping my face hard so she doesn't pick up on my alarm. "Marcus with her?" I ask.

"And Thorn." She smiles wryly. "They kicked Red out. He kept asking if she needed another, and I quote, ‘emergency knot'."

"Mm." I consider. "What does Marcus think?"

She eyes me strangely—maybe surprised that I'd still take stock in Marcus's opinion. He hasn't exactly bounced back to his usual bubbly self, so I don't blame her. But I know my packmate, and no matter how much Marcus sulks, he's not going to be making any fuck-ups like that again. It's important I make my other packmates see that, too.

"He thinks she's not getting enough air," Riley says, then clarifies, "fresh air."

Mine and Thorn's ‘lockdown' hasn't extended much further than the outdoor gym, where Eve is strictly forbidden. Perhaps we should've been more lenient.

"Tell Thorn he's welcome to walk her around the grounds for …" I sigh. "However long his alpha can take."

She nods understandingly and heads back upstairs. I sink back into my chair, glancing sideways at the camera still on my desk.

No. I've ogled that photo long enough. It's not going anywhere.

At least, not for now.

***

If there's one person especially pleased about the lockdown?

It's Eve's omega.

Occasional wooziness aside, her nesting instincts are in full force. If we didn't stop her, she might spend the whole day darting about from room to room, deciding which pillows suit which space, which ones need to be re-scented, and which need to be banished to the hallway cupboard.

"Can I, alpha?" she pleads, looking up at me with those gorgeous puppy dog eyes. "Please?"

I know my answer will be Yes, no matter what she's asking, but I decide to play along. "Can you what, little one?"

"Your room." She's practically twitching with anticipation. "Can I …"

My heart thuds. My room ?

Like most of my packmates, I've basically abandoned that personal space altogether. Eve insists on having all five of us in her nest every night, which makes my old bedroom nothing more than a glorified closet.

"What's so special about my room?" I ask. She's already put a nest in almost every communal space. Is her omega getting bolder? Testing the reach of her influence?

Eve frowns. "I–I'm not sure. Just feels like I need it."

"To nest?"

"I think … probably?"

Poor thing seems as confused as I am. She rubs her stomach as though asking the pup for guidance. That's when it hits me.

My room. It's the one right next door to Eve's nesting room. What she's feeling is more complex than simply building another nest, and it's definitely not about flexing her power … which means …

I wrap both hands around her waist, loving the warmth of her rounded stomach against the heels of my palms.

"Consider it yours," I tell her.

Her eyes light up. "Really? I mean, I don't want it to be mine , I just want to, I dunno, put it to use."

"Mm-hm." I smile, bowing into a kiss. "And I have just the thing."