Beautifully Broken Omega: A Dark Reverse Harem Omegaverse Romance, page 18
“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” I ask, my voice rougher than I intended.
Nolan has that same barely contained tension I can feel thrumming through my own body. “Seems like you’re doing much better.”
Kit gestures toward the book on Griffin’s chair, her movements slightly unsteady. “I’ve just been reading. And exploring your home—it’s beautiful.”
“And?” Nolan asks, taking a careful step closer.
Kit reacts immediately to our proximity, her scent deepening and intensifying until I can smell her slick—sweet and musky and so damn appealing I can almost taste it in the air. But more than that, there’s no fear in her eyes as she looks at us—only invitation, a silent plea for us to come closer.
“Fuck,” Nolan breathes, stopping abruptly about three feet away. “I think it’s better if we stay back.”
I stop with him, not wanting to scare her or overwhelm her. We’ve promised to go slow, to let her set the pace. But then she’s the one stepping closer to us, closing the distance with deliberate intent.
Once she’s standing in front of us, there’s this quiet determination in her storm-gray eyes that takes my breath away.
She inhales deeply, her chest rising with the motion. “I can smell you both completely now,” she whispers. “Really smell you. No metallic scent, just... you.”
The wonder in her voice, the way she’s discovering parts of herself that were stolen from her—it’s beautiful and heartbreaking at the same time.
I can’t help myself. I reach out and touch her face, my fingers trailing along her jawline as I lean down to breathe in her scent. “Kit,” I whisper, my voice thick with emotion. “You smell like home.”
She leans into my touch, a soft sigh escaping her lips. Griffin moves behind her, his hands settling gently on her shoulders, and suddenly she’s surrounded by all three of us. The rightness of it, the way she fits perfectly in the center of our pack, makes something settle deep in my chest.
“Kit,” I say, my voice strained with the effort of maintaining control. “We need to talk.”
She looks between the three of us, confusion flickering across her features. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No,” Griffin says immediately, his hands tightening protectively on her shoulders. “God, no. You’re perfect, Kit.”
Nolan runs a hand through his hair, and I can see him struggling with the same internal battle we’re all fighting. “Your body is going through a lot of changes right now, Kit,” he says gently. “And the last thing we want is to take advantage of that.”
Her face falls slightly, and I can smell the shift in her scent—confusion mixed with what might be rejection. The idea that she thinks we don’t want her is physically painful.
“We care about you,” Griffin says firmly, turning her so she can see the sincerity in his eyes. “More than care about you. We love you, Kit.”
The words hang in the air, and I watch her eyes widen with shock. But it’s true—I’ve known it for a while now, even before understanding what she really was. The feeling has been growing steadily, beyond attraction, beyond protectiveness.
“We do,” I confirm, my voice soft but certain. “I love how brilliant you are—the way your mind works when you’re intellectually challenged, how you light up when you’re solving problems.”
Nolan nods, his blue eyes intense as they hold hers. “I love your strength—the way you’ve survived everything that’s been thrown at you and still have the courage to trust us. The way you work so hard, never complaining, never asking for more than you think you deserve.”
“I love your wit,” Griffin adds, a small smile playing at his lips. “Your dry humor that slips out when you’re comfortable—calling Steven’s contract a ‘personal ATM.’ The way you challenge us when you feel safe enough to speak your mind, correcting Declan on unconscionability like you were born to argue law.”
I can see tears gathering in her eyes, and I move closer, close enough that I can take her hands in mine. Her palms are slightly callused from work, evidence of everything she’s endured to stay independent, to survive. I bring them to my lips, pressing gentle kisses to each palm.
“These hands,” I murmur against her skin. “They tell a story of survival, of determination. You’ve built a life from nothing, Kit. Made yourself invisible to stay safe. That takes incredible strength.”
“We don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret,” Griffin says gently, his voice carrying absolute conviction. “Your omega nature is just beginning to resurface after years of suppression. The last thing we want is for you to feel like we pressured you into something you weren’t ready for.”
Nolan takes a careful step closer, his massive frame somehow non-threatening despite his size. “We’ve waited this long to find you, sweetheart. We can wait as long as you need.”
“But what if I want this?” she whispers, her voice small but determined. “What if I’m tired of being afraid, tired of running from everything that could be good in my life?”
The raw honesty in her voice makes my chest ache. I can see the war playing out in her expression—years of conditioning telling her she doesn’t deserve happiness warring with the growing certainty of what she feels for us.
“Then we’ll be here,” I promise, stroking my thumbs across her knuckles. “Every step of the way. But we need you to be sure, love. Not just your body responding to your returning omega nature, but your heart, your mind. All of you.”
“We’ll protect you,” Nolan adds, his voice carrying the weight of an oath. “From Roman, from anyone who tries to hurt you. But more than that—we’ll protect you from rushing into anything before you’re ready.”
Griffin’s hands slide down her arms to cover mine where I’m holding her hands. “You’re precious to us, Kit. More precious than anything else in the world. We won’t risk damaging that by moving too fast.”
I can smell her scent shifting again—the confusion fading, replaced by something warmer. Understanding, maybe. Trust.
“So what happens now?” she asks quietly.
“Now,” Griffin says with a small smile, “we take care of you. We show you what it means to be cherished, protected, valued for who you are. And when you’re ready—if you’re ready—we’ll be here.”
“All of us,” Nolan confirms, his blue eyes soft with affection as they trace her face. “For as long as you’ll have us.”
I bring her hands to my lips again, pressing another gentle kiss to her palm. “No pressure, no expectations.”
She looks between the three of us, tears spilling over to track down her cheeks. But they’re not tears of sadness—I can smell the shift in her scent, the way jasmine blooms stronger around us.
“I...” she starts, then stops, her voice catching with emotion. “No one has ever said things like that to me before. No one has ever made me feel like I’m worth protecting.”
Her words pierce straight through me, the pain in them making my chest ache. Griffin’s jaw tightens, and I can see the way Nolan’s hands clench into fists at the reminder of how she’s been treated.
“Then we have all the time in the world,” Griffin says softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head.
She nods, leaning back against his chest as Nolan and I move closer, creating that circle of protection around her again. But this time, it feels different. Not just protective—promised. Like we’re making a vow without words.
Griffin’s expression grows serious behind her, his eyes meeting mine and then Nolan’s over her head. “Kit, we need you to stay with us. At least for now.”
“What do you mean?” she asks, though I can see understanding already dawning in her eyes.
“Roman,” Nolan says grimly. “He knows where you work, which means he probably knows where you live. It’s not safe for you to go back there alone.”
The fear that flickers across her face makes every protective instinct I have roar to life. She’s been hiding for two years, building a small sanctuary for herself, and now even that’s been compromised.
“We’re not trying to control you,” Griffin adds quickly, clearly seeing her internal struggle. “But until we figure out what Roman’s planning, what he wants—”
“We need you somewhere we can protect you,” Nolan finishes, his voice carrying the weight of absolute conviction.
She’s quiet for a long moment, and I can practically see her weighing independence against safety, pride against practicality. Finally, she nods slowly.
“Okay,” she whispers. “You’re right. I can’t go back there, can I?”
The resignation in her voice breaks my heart. She’s worked so hard to build a life for herself, and now she has to abandon it because a monster from her past won’t let her go.
“Hey,” I say softly, moving closer and taking her hands again. “This isn’t permanent. Once we deal with Roman, once we make sure you’re safe, you can make whatever choice you want about where to live.”
She takes a shaky breath, looking around at the three of us. “Okay. I’ll stay.”
“Good,” Griffin says, and I can hear the relief in his voice. “That’s settled then.”
“What about my things?” she asks hesitantly. “My clothes, my books... I don’t have much, but what I do have is important to me.”
I exchange a look with Griffin and Nolan. The thought of her going back to that apartment, even with protection, makes my skin crawl.
“We can go get them for you,” I offer. “If you’d like. You could make a list of what you need, and we’ll bring everything back here.”
She hesitates, and I can see the conflict playing out across her face. The need for independence warring with the practical reality of the situation.
“I...” she starts, then stops. “Would you really do that? Go to my apartment and pack my things?”
“Of course,” Nolan says immediately. “Anything you need, sweetheart. Just tell us what you’d like us to get.”
She’s quiet for another moment, then nods slowly. “Yes. Yes, I’d like that. There isn’t much—just some clothes, a few books, and my grandmother’s pendant. It’s the only thing I have left of her.”
“Then we’ll get it all,” I promise, squeezing her hands gently.
She looks around at the three of us, tears threatening again, but this time I can smell gratitude mixing with the jasmine and vanilla.
“Thank you,” she whispers. “For everything. I don’t know how to repay—”
“You don’t,” Griffin cuts her off firmly. “You don’t owe us anything, Kit. This is what people do when they care about each other.”
She nods, taking a shaky breath. “I’m not used to people caring about me.”
“Well,” I say with a smile, “you’d better get used to it. Because we’re not going anywhere.”
And just like that, everything changes.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
KIT
The heat inside me is getting stronger by the minute.
I stand at the marble kitchen island, stirring cake batter with more force than necessary, trying to channel my restless energy into something productive. It’s been three days since I moved into the estate, and the alphas have been keeping their distance—leaving early for work, returning late, speaking to me in careful, polite tones that make me want to scream.
I understand why they’re doing it. They’re trying to give me space, trying not to overwhelm me while my omega nature continues to resurface. In the beginning, their consideration warmed my heart. The knowledge that they wanted me so badly but were holding back to protect my wellbeing made my heart ache with gratitude.
But now? Now I’m starting to get annoyed.
The day after they brought my belongings from my apartment—along with my ancient mixer that barely functions and my collection of worn baking books—a massive delivery arrived. Professional-grade stand mixer, every baking tool imaginable, ingredients I’d only dreamed of affording. They’d noticed what mattered to me and made sure I had everything I needed to pursue it properly.
The gesture was so thoughtful, so generous, that I’d nearly cried. But when I tried to thank them, they’d brushed off my gratitude with those same careful smiles and polite distance that’s driving me slowly insane.
I pour the batter into prepared pans, my movements sharp with frustration. My skin feels like it’s on fire, hypersensitive to every brush of fabric, every shift of air. The simple white dress—one of the dresses they bought for me—feels constraining, too heavy against my heated flesh.
The worst part is being surrounded by their scents all day. Dark cinnamon, cedar, and brown sugar from Griffin’s office, smoky sandalwood, leather, and clove lingering in the hallways where Nolan passes through, whiskey, rain-soaked earth, and wood smoke from Declan’s spaces. Their presence is everywhere, teasing me, making my body respond with increasing intensity while they maintain their frustrating distance.
It’s like slow, sweet torture.
The ding of my phone snaps me out of my brooding. I glance at the screen and see a text from my mother.
Treatment is going well. Doctor says I could be in remission soon. I miss you, Katie. I really want to see you.
A complicated mix of emotions washes over me. Relief that she’s responding well to treatment, genuine happiness that she might beat this. But underneath it all, that familiar hesitation. The memory of her telling me to go back to Roman, to try harder to be a better omega, still stings. Even knowing she’s sick, even wanting to forgive her, part of me isn’t ready.
I type back a simple response: I’m glad you’re feeling better. Let me think about it.
Another ding interrupts before I can put the phone away. This time it’s Becca.
Miss you! Haven’t heard from you in forever. Everything okay?
Guilt twists in my stomach. I texted her yesterday with some vague excuse about being busy, but I haven’t told her anything about what’s really happened. About Roman finding me, about the alphas, about everything that’s changed. She deserves to know, but every time I try to figure out how to explain it all, the words get tangled in my throat.
I’ll tell her everything during our catch-up call tomorrow, I promise myself, typing back: All good! Talk tomorrow?
Can’t wait! Love you.
I slide the cake pans into the oven and glance at the clock. Four PM. They won’t be home for hours—they’ve been working late every night, probably trying to avoid me. The thought makes my chest tight with hurt and want in equal measure.
I need to cool down. Literally.
The pool area calls to me like a siren song. I make my way through the estate’s winding corridors, past expensive-looking artwork, toward the sanctuary I’ve discovered in their indoor oasis.
When I step through the glass doors, my breath catches as it does every time. The space is magnificent—a lap pool surrounded by ambient lighting that dances across the water in hypnotic patterns, creating an atmosphere that’s both luxurious and intimate. Floor-to-ceiling windows showcase the manicured grounds beyond, but strategically placed frosted glass ensures complete privacy.
Comfortable loungers line one side of the pool, with a cozy seating area in the far corner. Everything speaks of wealth, but also genuine comfort rather than show.
I slip off my sandals and settle on the pool’s edge, slowly lowering my feet into the cool water. The contrast against my heated skin is immediate relief, making me sigh with pleasure as the temperature soothes my overwrought nerves.
The water feels incredible—perfectly maintained, neither too chlorinated nor too warm. I watch the gentle ripples my feet create, mesmerized by the play of light across the surface. The estate’s security means I’m completely safe here, completely alone, free to let my guard down in ways I’m still learning to allow myself.
Before I can second-guess myself, I stand and pull the white dress over my head, letting it pool on the smooth stone beside the pool. My bra and panties follow, leaving me completely bare in the soft, intimate lighting.
A full-length mirror lines one wall beside the pool—probably meant for checking form during lap swimming—and I catch sight of myself in its reflection. My breath hitches at what I see.
The woman staring back doesn’t look like the careful, controlled Kit Ellis who scrubbed toilets and kept her head down. This woman is flushed with arousal, her skin glowing in the ambient light, her curves soft and inviting. My breasts are full and heavy, nipples peaked from the cool air and my own arousal. Between my thighs, I can see a hint of slick, proof of how thoroughly the alphas affect me without even touching me.
I step into the pool, gasping as the cool water envelops my overheated skin. The sensation is incredible—like silk sliding against every nerve ending, soothing the fire that’s been building inside me for days. I sink deeper, letting the water rise to my shoulders, closing my eyes as it laps against my throat.
But even here, surrounded by cooling water, my mind drifts inevitably to them.
Griffin’s midnight-dark eyes, the way they deepen when he looks at me when he thinks I’m not paying attention. The controlled strength in his hands when he touched my injured leg, so gentle despite the obvious power in his strong fingers.
Nolan’s protective bulk, the way he makes me feel delicate and cherished instead of weak. His blue eyes softening with tenderness when he talks to me, the careful way he modulates his voice so he won’t startle me.
Declan’s easy warmth, the way his accent thickens when he’s affected by something. The memory of his mouth on me in that server room, the way he’d worshipped me like I was something precious.
My hand drifts down my body without conscious decision, fingers trailing over my breast before moving lower. I’ve been aching for days, empty and wanting, craving their touch with an intensity that borders on desperation.
