Page 166 of Captive Omega

My steps slow. “Why would you need to do something?”

“Presumably, there are ways we can make you comfortable.”

Naturally, my mind goes back to my sex dream, which I’m positive is not what he means.

Blushing, I stare at the white polished floor. “Uh, no. Just resting mostly.” That’s not entirely true. She encouraged my men to spoil me and for me to enjoy every minute of it. For a beta, Isaura acts a lot like an omega. “And she said she doesn’t need to see me again until next month, but I should call her in case I have any questions.”

Outside, the sun is bright in the sky, and Vaughn is leaning on the side of the Hummer. He lifts his hand in a wave. “Wanna get ice cream?”

“It’s still breakfast time,” I remind him.

“Well, I’ve decided ice cream is now a breakfast food. What do you say to a scoop of mint choc?” He opens the back seat with a flourish.

He’s relaxed and joking, yet he has his right hand close to his pocket, and his eyes never settle on anywhere for long. This clinic is down a quiet street with no one in the parking lot, but he never stops being alert.

Garrison is the same. Walking beside me, he looks calm, on the surface at least. He matches his longer legged pace to mine so we’re always side by side.

He must feel my attention to peer down at me. “Something wrong?”

“No. Just wondered what ice cream you would choose.”

“Vanilla,” Vaughn says with a wink.

I get in. Vaughn opened the door, but it’s Garrison who moves to close it. “Incorrect. I’m partial to sweet ambrosia and wild honey.”

I have a flashback to sitting on Vaughn’s drum kit with his face buried between my thighs, as an alpha listened down the phone.

Garrison wanted to know how I taste. Vaughn told him.

Sweet ambrosia and wild honey.

Garrison holds my gaze for a beat longer as my heart spikes and I fight the need to squirm in my seat. He isn’t talking about ice cream flavors.

He’s talking about tasting me.

We eat our ice cream in the car, returning to a house that smells so good, there’s no silencing my growling belly.

I press my hand over my stomach as Vaughn and Garrison pretend not to notice how it sounds like I’ve never eaten a day in my life.

Blaine swings the door open as we approach, smiles at me and says, “Be prepared. Lex did the dinner.”

“Oh no,” Vaughn breathes. “And I stuffed myself with ice cream.”

He had four scoops of mint choc chip. I settled for three of chocolate but wanted four, and Garrison had one scoop of pistachio. Clearly, he’s the only one of us with any restraint.

“What’s the dinner?” I ask, following Blaine inside.

“You’ll see.” Blaine slows his steps, catching my eye. “Are you okay? Garrison texted to say everything was okay, but is it?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Good.” His concern melts away, and he leads the way to the kitchen.

I grind to a halt in the doorway, struggling to make sense of what I’m seeing.

Lex, wearing a white apron, is standing beside a kitchen island laden with food, grinning proudly as he brandishes a wooden spoon. “Prepare to feast.”

“What the hell is this?” I breathe.

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