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Omega’s Daddy (Shifter Marriage Service #4)
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An omega on the run with triplets… how will she ever escape?
Constance is fleeing a controlling alpha that shows no love to her and her new triplets. And there is only one solution for a desperate omega on the run—the Shifter Marriage Service. But who would want a fake bride that already has children?
Tucker Rollins is a shifter who doesn’t want to be responsible for anyone. No women, no children. That’s always been his motto. But his pack and motorcycle are headed into dangerous territory through the leadership of his vindictive brother. The only way he can stop this mess is by claiming the pack alpha title for himself. Only one problem—according to pack tradition, he needs a family.
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“Damn it, Constance. Can’t you do anything right? I’m sick of having to do everything around here myself!” Blane barked at her as she cowered in the corner of the kitchen.
She looked at her husband, his six two frame towering over her menacingly. She could remember when she had thought he was the most handsome, virile shifter in the pack; when she had loved him and believed they would spend a long and beautiful life together. They were long past that now.
“You said you had six people coming. Now, it’s twelve. How was I supposed to know that?” she almost whispered.
“You are supposed to be prepared for anything. You should have made something simpler, something that could be stretched or that you could quickly make more of if needed. There’s no way we can feed twelve people with, what is that even? A fucking pot roast?”
His dark hair was combed back to perfection, in stark contrast to the ugly, red face that now stared back at her with utter disdain and contempt. There was no pleasing him. There had not been any way to please him since the time they had been pronounced man and wife. It was a death sentence – the kiss of death. She was just hopeful that it would be her actual death at some point.
“I spent all day making this food. I thought you’d be happy,” she replied, her tone still muted compared to the way he was roaring at her.
“You thought? I doubt that. You never think about anything,” he yelled, picking up a nearby plate and throwing it, not at her, but close enough that it shattered against the cabinet near her head.
The sound was enough to wake the sleeping babies laying nearby in their cribs. She had moved the triplets downstairs to make it easier to tend to them and work on dinner without having to hike up and down the stairs. Exhaustion had already set in before she had even begun the day. Blane had not given her a moment of peace between feeding their triplets and pawing at her when she was barely recovered from having given birth a little over a month before.
“Great. Now, they’re going. What do you plan to do about them during our dinner party? How can you be a proper host with three screaming kids going in the background and having to whip a tit out constantly to feed one of them?”
“I’ve pumped enough milk to feed them for the night and the Taylor girls are coming over to take care of them. They’ll be upstairs with them during the party.”
“Great. More bitches in the house. Bad enough that I’m married to one who seems to just spit out more of them. Was it too much to ask for even just one son? Instead, I get three worthless girls. More Omegas, and not an Alpha in the bunch.”
Constance didn’t respond to the remark. There was little she could say that wouldn’t escalate the situation even further. Instead, she tried to neutralize the situation before he got even angrier. He hadn’t yet reached the point where he was physically abusive, but if his ever-increasing venom was any indication, it was only a matter of time. Given his disdain for both herself and their girls, how long before his mean streak spread to them as well?
“Well? What are you going to do about this huge cluster fuck you’ve created?”
She smiled, knowing there was nothing good to come from arguing with him. Glancing at the pot roast and then at the clock, she had an idea.
“Mashed potatoes. Gravy. We’ve got the instant kind. I’ll mix up a large batch of that and put thinner slices of the pot roast on top, instead of serving it alone. It’ll stretch what we have without looking skimpy.”
“Instant mashed potatoes. Nothing says class like that,” he said, turning and leaving without another word.
Constance took a deep breath and let it out slowly before retrieving the broom and dustpan to clean up the broken glass from the floor. She tried to push everything out of her mind as she started a pan of water and milk for the mashed potatoes and a separate one for the gravy.
The doorbell rang as she was headed to check on the triplets and she paused to answer it, grateful to find the three Taylor triplets. They weren’t unusual in the wolf pack as Omegas like herself sometimes had sextuplets or even octuplets, but they were unusual in the sense that they were completely identical.
“Ah . . . Kara, Lara, and Mara. Thank goodness. Come on in. You are lifesavers. If you could do me a favor and get the triplets upstairs, I’d be so happy.”
“Sure, Mrs. Michaels. Where are they?”
“In the living room in the portable crib.”