Page 45 of Pack Plus Three

The tightness in my chest eased slightly at her approval. I needed this omega's approval more than anything. Was my behavior logical? Some may say no—but to me, I was thinking the most clearly and logically I had in years. Daisy was my omega. There was no denying that now. My reaction to her scent and rabid need to protect her spoke for itself.

“Come on, let’s get you settled down on a couch.”

Or the nest?

We had a nest in the omega suite, and it had never been used. It was intended for our future omega. I couldn’t imagine any other omega in our future other than Daisy—so, surely, that nest was hers? Her own bed was threadbare and only had one blanket; when I’d been adding some extra security to her apartment, I had been horrified at the state of it. She deserved a gigantic nest full of all kinds of silks and velvets.

At the packhouse, I could make that happen.

Leading her out of the garage and through the kitchen, her head was on a swivel, taking in the fixtures.

“This kitchen is downright pornographic!” she muttered.

“You’re welcome to use it whenever you want.” I grinned at her. “In fact, I encourage you to use it. I’ll stock the pantry with every cookie ingredient you could possibly need.”

“I bet that oven would also be good for baking cakes,” she mused with a knowing grin.

“My kitchen is your kitchen,” I said, leading her down the hallway.

I found myself worrying as we wandered through the house. Was it clean enough? Did she like it? Could she see herself living here full time? I had no intention of letting her go back to her apartment. Even if she did decide one day that she didn't want to live with me anymore, it definitely wouldn't mean going back to that place. She should be set up in a nice area. One with a good school district for the little one.

Coincidentally enough, we lived in an excellent school district; some of the best preschools in the country were conveniently just down the road. Maybe I could use that to convince Daisy to stay?

Instead of leading her straight up to the omega suite, we stopped by the informal sitting room. I gestured toward the overly stuffed couch that we’d had since we were teenagers living in a tiny two-bedroom apartment. It was old, but it was damn comfortable.

“Sit down and get your feet up,” I instructed. “How are your feet feeling? They're not too swollen, are they?”

“They feel a little sore, but I'll be fine,” Daisy assured me as she took her seat.

Fine wasn't good enough. I wanted her to feel better than fine. Sitting down on the couch next to her, I gently lifted her feet until they were in my lap, sliding off her little slip-on shoes and digging my thumb into the arch of her foot.

“Oh, holy fuck, that's amazing.” She groaned, throwing her head back. Her feet were a lot more swollen than the last time I’d seen them. What would help reduce the swelling in her feet? Maybe a bath? Staying off her feet for a period would certainly help.

I gently worked over both her feet until she was completely relaxed, sinking into the couch cushions.

“Did somebody order pizza?” Devon shouted as he walked through the front door.

“We’re in here!” I shouted back. Daisy didn't even move. Clearly, the foot rub had done wonders.

Devon rounded the corner, arms full of three pizza boxes. “Hello there, flower. How are we feeling?” he asked Daisy, setting the boxes on the coffee table and placing his focus on her.

“Sleepy,” she admitted.

“I don’t blame you after the day you’ve had. Is it true you went for groceries without telling Jeremy?”

“It won’t be happening again,” I muttered grumpily. Why had she done that? She could have hurt her back further or fallen over—she had been getting dizzier and unsteadier by the day. She was too independent. It would have been easy for me to drive her to the store. Fuck it, I would have enjoyed driving her to the store. Looking after her made my alpha bang his chest with pride.

“I can go to the grocery store! I’m not an invalid,” she cried. I got the distinct impression that, were I not rubbing her feet, she would have been stomping away.

Foot rubs keep her in place. Good information for future use.

“We aren’t saying you’re an invalid, flower. You’re pregnant, and all pregnant women could use a hand,” Devon reasoned with the grumpy, heavily pregnant omega.

“But I’m not your responsibility,” she grumbled, pouting adorably.

I couldn’t help it. I laughed. When she turned to glare at me, I leaned forward, kissing her on the cheek. “You became my responsibility the day you turned up at my apartment, feral for Korean food.”

Chapter 20

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