Page 72 of Breeding Clinic

Nested isan omega’s wet dream, including their air. Their pheromone filtration system is state of the art, and I swear the calm, sweet vanilla scent they pipe in has extra ozone in it or something. When the glass doors slide open, the frigid AC cools the sweat on my brow. I’m giddy with excitement.

“Oh, wow. This store is enormous,” Matthew says.

“You’ve never been in one?” I ask. Not even to buy a gift or something for someone? Nested is a huge chain and this store is a Plus version. It doubles as a warehouse hub for their distribution network. I like that it caters exclusively to omegas. It’s omega owned and omega staffed.

“No,” Matthew says. “My parents are betas.”

Liam grabs us a cart while Gabriel picks up a store map from the acrylic display stand. Whatever’s not on the floor can be ordered and shipped to your door within two days if it’s in stock. Efficiency is important when you’re dealing with heats.

“Divide and conquer?” Liam asks with a frown, looking around at the huge store. The showroom has displays and inspiration set ups designed to mimic real nests, but the back is the warehouse which contains every item they sell.

Matthew and I already made a list of what we’re looking for today complete with SKU numbers and prices. A few omegas who are checking out a display of cute, shaped pillows give Liam sideways glances, their nostrils subtly flaring. Trying to scent him. They practically eye fuck him as they search for a claiming mark on him first, then me. A side pony covers my old claiming bite. They glance at Liam’s temporary mark that’s fading on my throat, then my pregnant belly. I can practically hear their silent judgment from across the display racks.

Good enough to breed. Not good enough to claim for real.

A low growl vibrates in my chest, and I glare daggers at them. I should have fucked him in the car and rubbed my slick all over him. Let them know he’s taken even if neither of us is wearing the other one’s bite. At least not yet. The lawyers are still working on the paperwork, going back and forth over small details.

“No way,” I tell him. There’s zero chance in hell that I’m letting him wander off so that half the store can undress my alpha with their eyes. He’s handsome as fuck. A successful business owner. Genuinely kind. Good to his betas. And phenomenal in bed. I’m going to cling to him in this store like a baby monkey till I’ve got his ass locked down with a mating bite. “This store is big. Let’s stick together.”

I take one of Liam’s hands, holding it, and think really hard at the other omegas tofuck off. Too bad telepathy isn’t real. I try anyway. Just in case.You never know.A growl slips out of me by accident.

Liam glances at me with curiosity. “You okay?”

I dodge his questioning gaze and glare at the omegas who can’t take a fucking hint. “Yeah. But if they don’t stop undressing you with their eyes they won’t be.”

“Who?” Liam looks around to see who I’m glaring at.

“What’s wrong?” Matthew asks.

“I think our omega’s feeling a bit territorial,” Gabriel says with a grin. His expression is delighted. As if I’ve paid them the highest compliment. He tugs me closer and slips his hand down to squeeze my hip.

“What,” Liam says, “them?” He looks at the omegas who are suddenly busy studying whatever display they’re in front of. “I didn’t notice.”

“You didn’t?” I ask him.

“No.” Liam grabs the end of my hair and plays with it. “Why would I when the best omega’s right here with us?”

My heart flutters and embarrassment makes my cheeks heat with a blush. I clear my throat, but I can’t keep the tiny smile from my face. “I guess we should get started. You grabbed a map?”

“Oh, wow,” Gabriel says, looking up from the map he’s reading. “Did you see there’s a food court?”

“Really? What do they sell?” Matthew asks, looking at the map.

“International food. There are three dishes from every country where they have a store. Look, they havepastelfrom Brazil.” He hands me the map. One of the segments of the unfolded brochure has flags from around the world and the food items they sell listed next to each flag. “It’s a hand pie with beef and spices. You’ll like it.”

“Sounds good, but let’s furniture shop first,” I tell them. We follow the map’s complicated directions to the nest furniture area. The building is a maze—someone could get lost in for hours if they aren’t careful.

When we find it, I’m impressed by their selection and variety. They have all the various decor styles from Swedish modern minimalist to white fairytale princess canopy beds to mid-century modern. They also have round, oval, and a heart-shaped nest for omegas who want something different. I’mdrawn to the more traditional rectangular one with four posters. It comes with optional bed curtain rails and four wood stains to choose from.

“What do you think?” I ask them, running a hand along the poster’s ornate spiral carving. Wooden rosettes decorate the corner where each curtain rail meets another. The curtains go on the inside, leaving the decorated wood on display. “Oak? Or the walnut color is nice.”

“Walnut,” they agree, then debate the sizing. Matthew pulls up the house’s listing and finds the architectural drawing that was done when it was renovated in the nineties. They study the dimensions of the main room and discuss furniture layouts.

Once they’ve determined what size we need, Matthew takes the paperwork from its plastic sign and we move onto mattresses. It takes an hour of testing and debating to find one we all agree on.

“I think these go with the bed,” Gabriel says, holding up a white package. “It’s like mosquito netting.”

I glance at the bed curtains he found. “They are, but I don’t want white.”

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