Page 118 of Feral Alphas

The bored-looking man in his twenties barely glances up. “Delivery for Nesters?”

“That’s us.” I open the door, swallowing down on the rush of adrenaline as I double check there’s no threats behind him. The only scent in the air is Rose’s, so I move aside. “Want to sign for it?” I ask her.

She beams and grabs the contractor’s device. “What do I put?” The guy outside glances up, surprise wreathing his face as he catches her delicious scent.

“Just your name, ma’am,” he offers, scanning her. I straighten in warning, and he looks away.

Oblivious to our posturing, Rose giggles and scribbles with the stylus. A happy swell rushes through my chest as I watch her enjoy such a simple pleasure; is it legal to be this proud of my omega?

I take the padded mail bag and watch as the guy walks away, turning back once to steal another look at Rose.

“I wrote Rose Nesters. Is that alright?”

I wrap my arms around her shoulders and turn her into my chest. “Yes, because that’s who you are.”

She beams up at me. “I love you!”

Like Colt, she has a heart of gold, and she’s so willing to throw that word around.

I clear my throat before emotion chokes me. “While we’re on the topic, do you want a different name? I know the bastards from the kennels named you Rose, but if you want to change it, we’ll be happy to help you find one you like.”

She tips her head, sending dark blonde hair cascading over her shoulder. My dick hardens from that tiny gesture.

“I did think about it, but I like the name Rose, even if I don’t like the people who gave it to me. I was already Rose when I met Zane and Scar, so it feels more like something they gave me.”

I press her head into my chest and kiss her hair, wondering if she can hear my heart thundering for her. She’s so precious, I just want to wrap her up in a bow and treat her like the queen she is.

“So long as you’re happy,” I murmur into her hair, rocking back and forth as I hold her tight. “Now, what do you want to do today?”

She pulls back and gets this wild look in her eye. “I was wondering . . . would it be okay to plant some flowers along the path?” She points out the still-open door to our bare front yard. “I’ve been wanting to ask since the day I arrived.”

My first instinct says we can’t afford to buy plants and soil improver, and I hate the fact that’s my response. I cup her jaw and drop a kiss on her cute bow of a mouth. “Of course, sweetheart.” How much can a few plants cost, anyway?

Kye’s car smells like cow manure as we drive back from the nursery, and I can’t resist grinning into my fist. He seems to tolerate having his expensive Audi treated like a landscaping delivery van remarkably well. But, like me, he’s probably just happy we managed an outing with zero nasty surprises.

I squeeze Rose’s hand as we pull into our street. She squeezes back once, then goes back to clutching the boxes of petunias and daisiesnestled on her lap like they’re precious children. The look on her face replaces every concern I had about messing up my housework schedule.

As we pull up in the driveway, I spot a stranger walking across our front lawn. The internal calm flicks to instant rage as I throw open the car door and leap out. “Who are you? Why are you here?” I shout.

The man spins, and the camera hanging around his neck swings with the motion. Shock tugs at his features, but he recovers fast. “I’m a reporter with the Davinian Times and I was hoping to speak to Mr Romdine about his new omega.

My ears pop and a tremor runs down my arms. I curl my fingers into fists, and step forward. How dare he invade our safe space like this? “I’ll kill him,” I mouth to myself, adrenaline stinging through my veins.

“Luka?” Rose wraps both hands around my elbow. The concern in her voice snaps me out of the tunnel vision.

I tuck her under my arm and glare at the intruder. “You have ten seconds to be off this property before I call the OCB.”

“And you won’t be getting any interviews,” Kye adds, folding his arms across his chest. “I’ve made that clear already.”

The reporter bows apologetically. “Alright, I’ll go. Sorry to intrude.” As he grips his camera, something about his roughened hands strikes me as not very office-worker-like, but what would I know about desk jobs these days?

I quiver with tension until he disappears into a car parked down the street.

“Frick!” Kye says, pressing his fingers into his temples. “I’m sorry, guys.”

Motherfucking reporters! A snarl slips through my lips and I jerk away, doing a full sweep of the house in an attempt to settle my fury. I catch a whiff of unfamiliar male scent by the back sliding doors and through the glass I see Zane going mental against his bars.

“Same,” I murmur as I unlock the door. “Easy, Zane, we’re here now.”

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