Still in the Fucking Meeting

Swanley

I ’ve been listening to this fucking beta drone on about our family history, pack dynamic, and psychiatric evaluations. She’s been picking us apart, judging us, at times even mocking us.

We’ve gone over everything, from Isaac’s slightly higher BMI—which I almost lost my shit over—to our annual household income. Kofi makes excellent money, but Isaac works part time at a daycare, and as far as our paper trail is concerned, I’m unemployed. What can I say? Working in security offers plenty of cash only opportunities, so it doesn’t look like we have much money. It’s one of the main reasons why we never pursued an omega before—you have to basically be a fucking millionaire to get one these days. But when Kofi came home smelling like Carys, I just knew she was ours. And now we have to convince a board of old-ass betas that we aren’t too poor to care for her.

Kenna drones on about the financial burden that omegas can be while I fantasize about Carys's wonderful aroma clinging to Kofi’s suits. That delicious little omega smells like fresh peaches, and the way her aroma mixes with Kofi’s scent always gets me hard in less than a second.

My cock begins to plump as I think about the last time Kofi came home smelling like her. He had kissed her, covering his face and neck in her delicious perfume. The three of us spent all night fucking like we were teenagers again. And the thought of having Carys pressed between us has me practically leaking.

“I see that you have a letter of recommendation from the CEO of Tabor Institutes,” Kenna lifts a piece of paper, scanning it. “And one from Finn Renard.” Her eyes widen with surprise. “We know Mr. Renard well.”

“He’s an old friend,” I say in a flat tone. Finn is actually my boss, but I keep that to myself. While he owns a pretty reputable art gallery, the work I do for him isn’t something I can file a tax return on.

“Overall, your pack’s last health assessment looks decent enough.” Kenna pulls a face as if she’s disappointed, then her eyes fall on Isaac once more. My hands curl into fists, ready to put this bitch in her place if she mentions his weight one more fucking time. “But your assessment was almost a year ago.” She gives Kofi a pointed look. “I recommend all three of you submitting yourselves for another one.”

Kofi smiles and nods, accepting her request, while Isaac scribbles notes like a madman. Thankfully, I don’t think he noticed her judgmental looks.

I wish I was half as calm as they were. But I’m too pissed. Carys is somewhere in this building, suffering, and we’re sitting here, discussing physicals. It’s bullshit.

“Mr. Mitzski.” Kenna narrows her dark eyes at Isaac.

I tense at the look in her eyes. Isaac is a gentle soul, not one that does well with a confrontational attitude.

“I see that you work part-time.” She scans the page. “At a daycare?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says eagerly, clutching his pen a little tighter.

“Do you plan to continue working after bringing Carys home?” Kenna glares as she waits for Isaac to respond, making him shift in his chair.

“No,” he says quickly. “I’m going to stay home with Carys.” He begins thumbing through his paperwork. “Omegas don’t fare well in isolation.” He stops at a page with a highlighted section. “Constant companionship staves off anxiety, depression, and bouts of distress,” he reads the passage, before looking up at Kenna. He looks so damn adorable with his dark hair falling into his eyes while he waits patiently for her to say something.

“You seem to have done your homework.” Kenna's lips twitch into a quick smile, and some of the tension in Isaac’s shoulders melts away. “I’m glad to see you’re taking this seriously.”

“Of course we are,” Isaac says, flipping back to his notes. “We’ve already collected all the materials for her nesting, I’ve read books on the benefits of cuddle piles and pack nesting, and I’ve even taken a few classes on handling omegas with behavioral health issues.”

“Really?” Kenna’s eyebrows lift. I love it when people underestimate Isaac. He always knocks them out with his intense organization. Honestly, he might be the smartest person I know.

Kofi places his hand on our beta’s knee, squeezing gently. “Isaac began preparing our home the second we started our phone calls with Carys.”

That’s a fucking understatement.

“And you, Mr. Pierce,” Kenna squints at me, the lines around her eyes etched deep. This woman must be a thousand years old. “You’re currently unemployed?” Her gaze falls down my chest to my hands. My knuckles are still busted from a job I pulled a few days ago. The bleeding has long since stopped, but I still have some noticeable scabs across both hands.

“That’s right.” I remain perfectly still, refusing to let her see how uncomfortable I am.

“You’ll excuse me for saying this.” Kenna leans back in her chair. It creaks just how I imagine her bones do every time she stands up. “But you don’t exactly look like the kind of alpha that does a lot of housecleaning.”

“I love a tidy kitchen,” I say, meeting her glare head on. “I love to bake too.”

“Bake?” She repeats the word as if it’s a foreign language.

“Kofi fucking loves my muffins.” It takes everything in me not to laugh when Kofi drops his head to hide his smile.

“Muffins?” It’s clear from the look on this woman’s face that she doesn’t believe a damn word I’m saying, but it doesn’t really matter. Because this woman wants to give us Carys. She wants to hand-over a rejected omega to a brand new pack, then brag to the whole world how she and her impressive hospital fixed someone so broken.

“Swanley takes excellent care of the house,” Kofi says, breaking the tense silence.

“Good to know,” Kenna glances once more at my hands. “I’m sure it will help Carys to have both an alpha and a beta with her at home. Rehabilitated omegas need a lot of care, and once?—”

The door flies open and a doctor rushes in, or maybe she’s a nurse. It’s hard to tell.

“Ms. Kenna,” the beta pants as if she just ran, “There’s a code yellow that needs your immediate attention.”

Both Kofi and Kenna jerk at that. Kenna rushes out of the room, and Kofi slowly stands. He looks stiff. Like he wants to run out of the room and help. He’s been like this since we first met. Kofi fixes people. He loves his job, assessing problems and taking away people’s pain. I used to wish I was more like him, but I’ve since accepted our natural differences. If nothing else, it makes us a good team—I break things, and he fixes them.

“Alpha?” Isaac whispers, acting as if we were in a library. “What’s a code yellow?”

Kofi walks slowly toward the door. He pushes it open, looking down the hall. “A patient is experiencing a severe medical episode.”

“What the hell does that mean?” I ask, sick of all the medical jargon. Why can’t people just say what they mean?

“Distress,” Kofi says, still staring down the hall. He squints as if trying to read something about a mile away. “It could be an anxiety attack or a depressive episode. Really any emotional state that requires supervision.” I know that everyone here is worried for some unknown omega, but all I can see is Kofi’s glorious ass in his tight black slacks.

“Distress?” Isaac cuts me a frightened look, and a faint wave of worry moves through our bond. He must be terrified if I can feel it. “Once one omega becomes distressed, it can easily affect the others.” Isaac turns to Kofi. “Do you think Carys could be?—”

“You really impressed that lady with all your research,” I cut in, trying like hell to distract my beta. Normally, Isaac is a pretty level-headed guy, but he gets easily upset when someone is hurt or in pain. And this is stressful enough without him worrying about some unknown omega.

“Maybe it’ll help us get Carys sooner,” Isaac smiles, his soft cheeks going round. “Do you really think we could have her by this time next week?”

“Yeah,” Kofi answers, but it’s clear he’s not really listening. He’s too busy eavesdropping on whatever the hell is going on down the hall. “Did she just say…” His voice trails off, then he gasps, “Carys?”

His big body jerks, and he’s suddenly gone.

Isaac looks at me, then we both race after our pack alpha.

Kofi runs through the long, white hallways, cutting up one corridor then down another. Kenna isn’t that far ahead of him, but she’s moving much slower. A wide set of white double-doors loom at the end of the hallway, and I grab Isaac’s hand.

“Hurry up,” I command, practically dragging the beta as I run.

Kenna scans her badge and one of the doors pops open. Kofi rushes in with her, and we sprint, catching the door right before it can close.

“You okay?” I ask Isaac as he jogs past me.

“I’m good.” He grabs his side, panting hard. “Where did they go?”

I scan up and down the long hallways, finally finding Kofi. He’s standing next to Kenna and several other betas in white lab coats, looking into a patient’s room.

“We shouldn’t be here. We should go.” Isaac grabs my hand, but I ignore his protests, walking quickly toward our pack alpha. We pass several rooms with large windows next to the doors. Each one has a stripped-down bed and dark machines hanging on the walls. I don’t know what kind of ward this is, but it appears to be completely empty, except for one room.

The room Kofi just went into.

“You can’t go in.” A tall, black-haired woman holds her hand out, stopping me. “How did you get back here?” Her dark eyes slide from me to Isaac, but my beta is too busy staring into the patient’s room.

“Is that Carys?” he whispers, as if in awe. I follow his gaze, then freeze.

Kofi approaches a small lump on the bed. It shifts as he speaks, then the blanket slowly falls away.

I’ve seen pictures of Carys Day already. I had a friend of mine pull everything he could find about her. Of course, I never told Kofi or Isaac. I was sure they would have disapproved, but I had to know everything I could about the “Alpha Eater”—at least that’s what they called her in the media. I spent weeks poring over that report, including several photos from her trial. She was a tiny little thing back then. Boney and frail with dark circles under her eyes. And even though I found her to have a very pretty face, I couldn’t get past how broken she looked, and how ridiculous her charges were.

It wasn’t until we started talking to her that I began to fall for the sweet omega. And now, standing outside her hospital room, watching my pack alpha gently pull her into his lap, I can admit that I’m completely enraptured by the gorgeous omega.

Despite her curves, she is very small, and stunning . Her dark sleek hair falls into her face. She has pouty lips and big gray eyes. Kind of like those porcelain figures with fat faces and sad eyes—they’re always praying for some reason. And even though she looks very weak as Kofi cradles her in his arms, she still looks healthy. Plush. Beautiful.

I’ve thought about this moment hundreds of times. About how I’d have to hold myself back to keep from rutting her in the fucking lobby, but right now, my cock is the last thing I’m thinking about.

I just want to hold the precious omega clinging to my pack alpha. I want to kiss her face and touch her hair. I want to whisper that everything will be okay.

“She’s so beautiful,” Isaac whispers.

“She really is.” I stare at Kofi’s big hands as they caress her full hips, and around her back. I wonder what she feels like that close. Warm? Sweet? Delicate?

Isaac lets out a contented sigh as he leans into me, wrapping his arms around my waist. I hug him, kissing the top of his head. I’m not normally one to show gentle emotions in public, but my heart is practically bursting right now. It’s a bizarre feeling.

“Do you think fated mates are real?” Isaac asks.

“What?” His ridiculous question makes me want to laugh. Fated mates are for fairy tales and tv shows.

“The way we all feel about her?” Isaac looks up at me. “I know you feel it too. Do you think we’re fated?”

“That’s natural,” someone says right behind us, and I snarl at being caught off guard. I’m never caught off guard. A bald beta walks up next to us, staring right at Carys. Deep worry lines his forehead. “Is Dr. Blackwell your alpha?” he asks. I eye his badge. He’s another doctor.

“Yes.” Isaac says, his voice soft and unsure. I concentrate hard on our bond, feeling his deep worry. He's probably scared that we’ve broken some rule, and we’ll be kicked out.

“You’re all mated?” the bald man asks, eyeing the two overlapping mating bites on Isaac’s neck. “Dr. Blackwell has already built a relationship with Carys. He clearly has feelings for her, and you’re feeling that through your bond. You’re in love with the love he already has. It’s basic biology.”

Something like sadness settles in Isaac’s eyes, and he nods. It enrages me to no fucking end, and it takes everything in me not to snap at the bald asshole for destroying his lovely moment.

“That’s bullshit,” I say forcefully, then I pull Isaac to me. “We’re clearly fated.”

“Do you really think so?” my adorable beta asks.

“Yes.” I look down at him with all the confidence I can muster. “I do think we’re meant to be, and anyone that says otherwise doesn’t know what the hell they’re talking about.”

Isaac gives me a happy hum, as he turns his attention back to Carys. “I think we’re meant to be, too.”

“You can’t be here.” The bald beta mutters under his breath, as he crosses his arms.

Not wanting to cause a scene, I take Isaac’s hand and slowly walk with my beta back down the hall. I don’t really give a shit if I’ve offended the bald fucker. In fact, I hope I did.

There are some people in this world that need a bit of magic in their lives. They need fairy tales and true love, and even fated mates. And if my beta, or my new precious omega needs that, then I’m going to fucking give it to them.