“Of course they count! I wrote ‘Have a sweet day’ on their boxes and circled my business phone number. That’s practically foreplay in my world.”
I keep giggling, holding my stomach. “Freya!”
“What? I’m just saying, some of us have to work for it. You sneeze and alphas appear with tissues.”
A knock at the door makes us both jump.
“Speaking of alphas...” Freya wiggles her eyebrows and throws open the door.
Carver, Asher, and Oliver fill the doorframe.
My heart stutters.
“Why are you here?” Oliver asks softly.
I wrap my arms around myself. “Giving you all some space.”
“We don’t need space,” Oliver replies.
“We need you,” Asher adds.
“And does Parker?” The words slip out before I can stop them.
“Of course he does.” Asher’s voice is firm.
I hold my hands out to them, throat tight. “Will you claim me?”
“Here?” Carver’s eyes darken.
“No, not here and now, but will you?”
Carver stalks forward. “I’ll do it right now. I’ll fuck you in front of anyone. Let them listen to your screams as I knot you and claim you forever.”
Heat pools between my legs, and I press my thighs together.
“Did I make you wet, baby?”
“She’s wet,” Freya tells Carver. “How could she not be with you three begging?”
“They are not begging,” I grumble.
“They are definitely begging.” Freya sing-songs, as she dances around. “Three gorgeous alphas at my door, pleading for their omega to come home.”
“They are not begging.” I roll my eyes.
“Really? Because from where I’m standing—” Freya gestures dramatically at the doorway, “—it looks a lot like begging.”
“You’re delusional.”
“Of course I am, honey. That’s why I’m going to get knocked up by some mysterious alpha during my next heat and do this whole thing alone.” Freya flops onto her couch with a theatrical flair, like she is suddenly exhausted.
Asher and Oliver exchange a look before turning to her. Asher’s voice softens. “They’ll find you. Your alphas. They might have already come for coffee or grabbed a cake from your bakery, but you just can’t see it yet.”
Tears well in Freya’s eyes. “Don’t be nice to me.”
“We’re not,” Oliver says. “I waited for Harlow. I knew she was mine, but she wasn’t ready to be mine.”
My heart does a little flip-flop at his words, warmth spreading through my chest.