Our alphas will be mad, my Omega frets. They said to rest, eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner. They just want to court us, I correct gently. They aren’t our alphas. She flashes me an image of Bast licking into my mouth while his fingers plunged into my core. Then one of Dair’s shoulders heaving as he apologized. And Asher’s broad, bare chest… with that tattoo. His heart, wrapped in ivy.
