I raise my brows. “Why?”
A pink tinge creeps across his cheeks. “Our bond is not only extremely new, it’s not complete yet, so my instincts are going a little haywire,” he replies. “Doc—the guy whose house this is—he’s only part of my pack on a technicality. I don’t know him very well, and I’m not sure that my wolf won’t view Doc as a threat.”
“I see.” I slip off the bed, my bare feet thumping against the hardwood floor as I walk over to Luke. “So, what you’re saying, it’s a possessive alpha thing?”
Luke grins at me. “Pretty much.”
I give him a cheeky smile as I take the stack of clothes he hands me. “Then I guess I’ll have to cover up.”
As expected, none of the clothes even come close to fitting me. The bottom of the sweatpants pools on the floor and the shoulder seams on the T-shirt droop almost to my elbows, my torso swimming in fabric.
Luke’s gaze moves up and down my body, and my cheeks heat. “I like you in my clothes,” he says, his voice gruff as he steps closer. He leans down and takes a deep breath near my neck. “You smell like me, like us.”
A shiver goes down my spine and the back of my neck tingles as his breath brushes across my skin. If this is the kind of attention it gets me, I like me in his clothes too. Except for the fact that I’m probably going to trip over all the excess fabric and fall flat on my face.
Luke pulls back, eyes dark with hunger as he traces a finger over my collarbone. “How far down does this pretty blush spread?”
“Um… I have no idea.” I say, heat building low in my stomach. “But I don’t think we have time to find out now.”
He chuckles. “Well, we at least have time to figure something out so you can walk without tripping.”
He reaches toward my waist, pausing a moment to check in with me before gently tugging the T-shirt up. His fingers brush across my skin as he tightens the tie at the top of the sweatpants, sending a flare of heat through me, and his eyes darken again. He rolls the waistband a few times until the bottoms are no longer covering my feet, then releases me, letting the T-shirt fallback into place, the new bulge around my middle making it look like I just had a huge meal.
At the thought of food, my stomach growls, breaking the slight tension between us and making both of us laugh.
“Hungry?” asks Luke, eyes twinkling with amusement.
“Starving.”
“That might be a little more accurate than I’d like.” His lips turn down. “Let’s get some food in you.”
He takes my hand, giving it a quick squeeze, before leading me out into the hall. We make our way downstairs to the kitchen where two people—two beta shifters—are sitting at a small table. As we enter the room, my fingers involuntarily tighten around Luke’s and I slide slightly behind him, the comfort I feel with Luke not extending to the two strangers.
The female, Macy, who I caught a glimpse of earlier, rises from her chair and tilts her head to the side. She appears to be around my age with blue eyes and dark hair pulled back into a low braid.
The male is older, maybe in his late twenties or early thirties. He must be the “Doc” Luke was talking about. He also stands up and dips his chin.
“Alpha,” he says, keeping his eyes lowered.
Luke sighs. “I already told you to drop the formal crap. Just sit down.”
The formal crap? My chest tightens and I glance between Luke and the other two shifters. My mate isn’t just an alpha—a designation my brain tells me is held by maybe five percent of shifters—he’s anAlphawith a capital A, as in the leader of a pack. A flare of anxiety I can’t explain rushes through me, and Luke turns to me, brows drawn together. It takes all my willpower to fight my instinct to drop his hand and shy away from him.
Before either of us have a chance to question my weird reaction, my stomach lets out a loud gurgle and my strange agitation recedes.
Luke squeezes my hand, then turns his attention back to Doc. “My mate needs food. Do you have anything we can make a meal out of?”
“Oh, yes, of course.” Doc hops up again and scurries over to the cabinets, opening one and pulling down a single can of what might be soup.
Macy stands and walks over to Doc, taking the can from his hand. She rolls her eyes. “Do you have anything that’s not filled with sodium and preservatives?”
Doc's brows draw together. “Maybe?”
She shakes her head and walks over to the fridge. I can't see inside from where I am, but from the wrinkle in her nose it must not be good. She glances at Doc. “What do you normally eat?”
Doc's gaze slides to the can. “I'm not much of a cook.”
“Wait a second,” says Luke. “Are you telling me that you've been living off of canned soup since…”
