Page 37 of Building My Pack

"You, too," I reply, thinking that he smells even better before adding, "Aren't you hot in this heat?"

He shrugs with a small smile while leading us into the house, "This is typical work wear most days. You get pretty used to it."

"Speaking of ‘pretty,’" Santiago says, looking freshly showered coming down the set of spiral stairs as we walk in. "Or should I say beautiful?"

Wasting no time, he strolls over to us, pulling me in for a hug and kissing my cheek. Kennedy tucks his hands in his pockets as Santiago puts my hand through the crook of his elbow to tow me along with him. It bothers me more than it probably should to have Kennedy walking beside us like a third wheel, so I reach out with my other hand and link it through the arm closest. He smiles down at me and my cheeks flush. I turn just in time to see Santiago's signature lopsided smirk facing forward.

"You guys have a gorgeous home," I tell them. And it truly is. There's a somewhat open floor plan that's totally unexpected considering the exterior.

"Thank you," Kennedy says, leaving me to assume he had a major hand in the place.

"Kennedy had some of the walls busted down and we put a lot of work into making it modern while trying to keep as much of the Victorian feel as we could," Santiago says, confirming my suspicions. "Would you like a tour first or shall we have dinner?"

I'd absolutely love a tour. Especially when there's a chance they'll kick me out afterward, but I'm so ready to just get this over with that I tell him, "We can do dinner first, if you want."

"This way then," he says with the flourish of a hand.

We head toward the direction of a swinging door and my nerves ratchet up another notch. Having been in bed with him already, I should be loving every touch and small look he sends my way. Yet, all I feel is massive anxiety. Fear of the unknown is worse than the outcome, honestly.

We walk into a kitchen that is a realtor's dream come true. The dark marble counter with splashes of silver throughout meshes nicely with all of the stainless steel appliances. It's almost better than my own kitchen that I personally had remodeled. Before I can do more than ogle the space, we're detouring off to the side where a dining room is set up. A heavy, rectangular table made of dark-cherry oak by the looks of it, dominates the space with soft-white place settings.

"Kennedy has this weird thing about sitting at the head of the table," Santiago says just loud enough for Kennedy to hear, letting me know he's poking fun at his friend. Who in turn, just shakes his head at the antics as Santiago pulls out the chair to Kennedy's right and pushes it in for me.

He takes the seat across from me and says, "Hope you like pasta. It's practically the only thing Kennedy ever cooks."

"We have a rule," Kennedy tells me. "Whoever makes it home first makes dinner and I'm pretty sure Santiago is late on purpose so that he doesn't have to but loves to complain about it all the same."

Santiago winks at me with that crooked smile as Kennedy calls him out, making it seem that he's not entirely wrong. I laugh nervously before they start ladling out food onto our plates.

"Wine?" Santiago asks, holding up a bottle of Chardonnay.

"No, thank you," I reply, my voice a little shaky.

I feel like a deer in the headlights as he studies me for a second. Wishing it wasn't so, I know that I'm not going to make it through dinner unless I tell them now. "I need to talk to you about something," I start, looking at each of them in turn.

Santiago's elbows come up on the table and he locks his hands in front of his face while Kennedy leans back in his chair with a neutral expression. My breath hitches in my chest and I have to swallow hard before I can say anything.

"I'm not a beta," I admit, afraid to make eye contact. "I've pretended to be one since I was a teenager because I didn't want to be an omega."

All of the bad things I've been picturing in my mind. The two of them getting angry, possibly yelling or kicking me out and saying not to come back. None of it happens.

Kennedy relaxes and Santiago lets out a breath he must've been holding as his shoulders drop. "Is that it?"

I nod, "I'm sorry I wasn't more forthcoming before now."

He waves my apology off. "I'm just glad you didn't say that you found a pack and don't want to see us anymore. It's never good when someone says they need to talk in that tone."

"You're not angry or upset with me?" I ask quietly.

Smirking, he says, "Nope. You?" The last is directed at Kennedy who agrees with him with a short shake of his head.

Forgetting the food a little longer, Kennedy asks, "Why didn't you want to be an omega?"

I shrug. "My parents are both betas and always had strong feelings against pack life. They'd always told me that omegas were spoiled, little princesses who were never able to make their own choices in life. I really don't think they meant any harm by it. It was just their way of trying to push me to be more independent."

"That makes sense in a way," he says. "How are you able to hide it? Suppressants?"

"Yes," I confess. "Though, they aren't working like they're supposed to right now."

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