Page 9 of Double Delivery
Why did it matter what my alphas called each other? Wait… My alphas???
I felt the blood drain from my face, and I stumbled back a half-step.
“Whoa, you ok?” Axel asked.
I sucked in a breath and righted myself. “Y-yeah. I’m fine.”
He studied me as I forced myself to appear calm—rather than the ball of anxiety I’d suddenly become.
“Do you want me to call someone for you?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No. I’m good.”
“O-kay,” he replied, unsure tone to his voice.
I forced a smile. “I’m fine. You can return to your route.”
His eyes remained on me for several more seconds. “Ok. See you next time.”
“Sure.”
He turned and walked off, and I immediately closed and locked the door behind him. Then I leaned against it and slid down to sit on the floor.
My alphas.
“My alphas…” I whispered, breathless.
My entire body shook as I tried to argue with my instincts, but no matter how much I tried to push the thought aside, I couldn’t.
I’d long suspected that I had a fated mate. But two? Was that possible?
My cock was hard as a rock, another sign that something inside me recognized the men I’d just met as my mates.
But… the overwhelming urge to fuck that I’d always heard about was absent.
And they knew each other. But was there any attraction between them?
What did it mean? Were both of them really my mates? Was I supposed to choose one?
What was I supposed to do?
Chapter 7 - Axel
Isat behind the wheel of my truck, simultaneously waiting for my erection to go down and wondering if I needed to call a wellness check for the omega inside: Ollie Planche.
I’d never seen somebody blanche like that. He’d been fine, Shy, but fine. Then he was pale and unsteady.
My idle monitor alerted me that I’d been sitting for too long. I growled at it, but decided that the only thing I could do was trust him.
Ollie had assured me—twice—that he was ok. I would be a real asshole if I let my concerns override that.
Still, I wished there was a way I could return to check up on him without coming across as a creeper.
I reached for my phone. Maybe Tripp had a delivery there.
I froze. I didn’t have Tripp’s number.
“Fuck!” I shouted as my idle alert went off again. I slammed my hands against the steering wheel.
