Page 92 of Juliet & Her Romeos

“I’d never starve an Omega, or anyone.” Vito leans on the table, studying Swan closely. “Shit, did that happen to you in the academy, beautiful? Look, I’d starve myself, before I allowed anyone else to go hungry. I carried a tray up to Bec, when I first baked the pastries and rolls. He had a lovely treat breakfast in bed. He’s probably chilling out in his favorite spot in the library, all stuffed and happy on my cinnamon and apple sauce muffins. He can literally eat three of those at a time. That Omega can eat more than Amby and me combined.”

Swan hums, glancing away.

“It’s great that you’re looking out for him. He needs more of that in his life and he won’t ask for it. He just feels better spending time in his quiet space sometimes. Amby never forces him to share meals with us and shit. Bec needs to be the one who chooses when he socializes.” Vito slides onto the stool on the opposite side of the counter to Swan and me, before nudging the plate at us. “Eat up. Look, I found syrup and some of this chocolaty goop. I’m sorry that I didn’t have double chocolate ice cream. I blame my honey bee for eating the last of that. Anyway, I’ve ordered more in for you.”

A warmth is curling through me that makes me clutch my hands into the bunched material of the dressing gown on my lap.

Vito reaches over to push a pancake onto my plate and then Swan’s.

It's overwhelming.

It’s Christmas.

We have a pack.

This Alpha has kept his promise to make our favorite food. He’s even ordering in ice cream for me.

I reach for the syrup. “Shall I pour this on for you, Feathers?”

Swan shoots me a smile. “I want it swimming in it.”

“You got it.” I keep pouring syrup, until Swan is beaming.

When he takes the first mouthful of syrup soaked pancake, he moans and then hurriedly takes another piece.

“As good as you imagined?” I ask, softly.

“Better.” He answers, not slowing down.

Vito looks delighted.

“I can cook more, if you finish these. See, I can get better at Omega care too.” He picks up the chocolate pot and scoops out a spoonful. “Would you like some to make up for the missing ice cream, Jules?”

I jump, when Swan growls, knocking the spoon out of Vito’s hand.

The spoon lands with a wetsplatacross the pristine counter, smearing it in chocolate.

Shit, what’s Swan done?

A Beta can’t attack his Alpha, even in the most liberal families.

Is Swan trying to get himself beaten on Christmas day?

On our first day in this pack?

Then I notice that Swan’s gaze is fixed on the tattoo on the back of Vito’s hand that’d been holding the spoon.

Fuck, Swan’s been triggered. He’s trembling. And now he’s going to be punished.

“I can clean it up. Please, let me get a cloth and clean it,” I beg, pushing myself out of my seat and deliberately standing between Vito and Swan.

The Alpha will have to get through me, if he intends to hurt Swan.

“Leave it.” Vito sounds strained. “What’s a little bit of spilled chocolate between friends? That is what we are, right? Friends? Or have I fucked up somehow? Done something wrong? You can tell me.”

Why isn’t this Alpha angry?

He looks more hurt than anything.

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