Page 51 of Knight Life In Vegas

That had her blushing harder.

“Do you want to eat in bed or in the living room?”

“I don’t think there’s room for all of us if I go to the living room.”

She wasn’t wrong. “I’ll bring you a plate.”

I returned a few moments later with a plate in one hand, a water bottle tucked under my arm, and a cup of tea in my hand. I passed her the plate and set down the cup and bottle on her bedside table.

“I’ll help Dylan keep an eye on the boys,” Chico announced, extracting himself from the bed, leaving Charlotte and me alone.

She glanced shyly between me and her plate before patting the bed next to her.

Praise fucking god. That was an invitation I never thought I would get, and I wasn’t going to waste it.

What on earth was happening? Every time I woke up, I encountered some new mouthwatering scent. First Eduardo’s lemon oil and pepper, rousing me from an uncomfortable slumber on the living room floor. Then orange liqueur and clove from Francisco, and leather and cherries from Dylan, each of them tucked on either side of me in my bed with my boys wedged against me. And now bacon and pancakes.

I still wasn’t totally clear-headed, but I felt healthier than I had since I had first met Francisco and discovered the match. All my omega instincts were like a cat with a bowl of cream at having these men in my home and in my bed.

Eduardo settled next to me, leaning against the headboard and drawing me close. I nibbled a strip of bacon, daring to snuggle into him. His scent was sharp but relaxing. It reminded me of home-cooked meals and polished wood, like everything around me was meticulously cared for.

“How did you know where I lived?”

“Sammy called Dylan and you have your address on the fridge.”

I’d written down those details for myself because I could never remember our new ZIP code. At least it had come in handy. Why did they call Dylan instead of Ava, though?

“Eat as much as you can, but don’t push yourself,” Eduardo said, his voice smooth and his embrace warm.

I worked my way through the pancake slice, my appetite slowly returning the longer I was in the presence of my fated alphas. That was going to be a problem. How was I meant to functionandreject the match at the same time?

“I don’t mean to be such a disaster,” I said carefully.

“You’re not. You can’t help a biological reaction any more than we can. I don’t think fate was prepared for you to be so stubborn.”

I let out a small laugh.

“What I’m about to say isn’t to pressure you, but I do want you to take it into consideration.”

Trepidation flowed through me. “All right.”

“Trying to reject the matches is hurting you. Do you think you’re going to be able to be the mother you want to be for your kids if you keep pushing us away? Is the suffering worth not giving us a chance?”

Shame bubbled up instantly. He made a valid point. I wasn’t capable of taking care of my kids long-term in this condition, and that pissed me off as much as it made me ache to give in. My kids called and they had come. These alphas didn’t even know us, not really, but they were here and had stepped up when we needed help.

“I want to clarify,” he added, “I don’t think you’re a bad mom for your choices. In fact, I think you’re a great one. I just don’t want you to suffer and struggle. You don’t have to do either of those things, and even if you don’t want to give us a chance to be your pack, I do want you to know we’ll be there to help anyway.”

I stared at him for a long moment, my brain unwilling to form words. Instead of speaking, I set my plate aside and draped my legs over his lap, burrowing against his chest. His arms wrapped instantly around me, his purr vibrating through me, filling me with a sense of safety. What was I supposed to say? My instincts wanted me to have them. Fate wanted it; they wanted it…

Fury flashed hotly through me over a life with Andrew making me so uncertain. I didn’t know how to trust anymore. I certainly didn’t know how to be part of a pack. I had given a lifetime to my ex-husband and all that remained of it outside of my children were broken shards of myself I was desperately trying to piece back together.

“I… It’s not that I don’t…want to.”

“An easier question, then,” he said. “What’s up with your nest? Or lack thereof.”

I froze. “My ex-husband didn’t really like me being an omega, I don’t think. He said nests were childish. When my kids and I left, I didn’t have any nesting supplies to take with me, and I’ve tried to be frugal with myself so I don’t have to deny the boys.”

“Querida, let us help you.”

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