Everyone keepssayingthat. Abrams probably repeated it half a dozen times in the hour he spent here, checking me once and then again at Theo’s insistence.
I lost a year of my life. Surely there has to be some sort of averaging out.
Jake watches as I get to my feet, stretching until the tense muscles in my shoulders pop and I sigh with relief. “Bathroom.”
After I’m done, I make my way back. The lights are on in the kitchen, and my stomach gives a little grunt ofstop forgetting about me.
I can’t work out the sound at first. Not until I look down. “Hey.”
Oscar sits back on his ankles. There’s a bucket beside him, the floor ahead of us glistening where he’s scrubbing it. Something twists in my chest. “Do you want me to help?”
His mouth nearly drops open. “Absolutely not.”
I glance around. Everything is gleaming. While we’ve been resting, he’s been… cleaning. My heart squeezes again. “I didn’t know pack leaderscouldclean.”
My words are lightly teasing. But it’strue. Pack dynamics tend to work out so those with lower dominance do the bulk of the housework in most packs.
But not this one.
Oscar pushes his glasses up. His words are amused. “Good pack leaders do what they need to to keep their pack going, I like to think. You want a drink? Something to eat?”
“I don’t want to mess up the floor.” I shift on my feet.
“You’re not.” He’s up on his feet, curling his arm around my waist and lifting me effortlessly with one hand. “I am. What do you need?”
He settles me on the counter, my bare feet swinging down. When his hand slips free, I grab for it. “Thank—,”
“I believe you’ve been warned about that.” God, his eyes are dark. I’ve never seen eyes like his. Such a dark shade of brown that they appear black, the iris bleeding into the pupil.
He shifts closer. And I’m reminded again how much they’ve all changed. Oscar was always a little slighter than the rest… but not anymore. His shoulders block most of the light as he looks down at me. His hands rest on the counter on either side of my legs, and I swallow at the wave of scent that rolls over me. Blanketing me.
When I suck in a breath, his lips shift into a small, knowing smile. His thumb strokes the edge of my leg. “What are you looking at, mate?”
My eyes jerk up to his, my heart flip-flopping. “You’ve never called me that before.”
His eyebrows dip into a small v. Just a little. Completely and utterly focused on me. “Would you rather I didn’t do that?”
I consider it. “Why did you?”
“Because,” he says softly. “You are mymate. And I wanted to know what it would feel like to call you mine. Just once. I’m sorry if it was too much.”
My eyes trace his face. “How did it feel?”
Touch. That’s what Abrams said I needed. Lots of touch. Contact with my mates. Comfort, he called it. But… I’m not feeling especially comforted right now.
“Better than I ever imagined.” The quiet words bury into my heart, carving out their own little space. “But then… I’ve always felt that way when it comes to you.”
And I know. I know he’s going to step back. To give me space, because we have all this damned time, or so they keep telling me.
Maybe we’ve wasted enough time. Not that I’m ready for everything. But maybe… maybe something.
I almost lunge for him, toppling off the counter. Oscar grabs me easily, stopping me from falling. “Kenny—,”
I hook my hand around his neck, tug him down, and press our lips together. He inhales sharply, his lips soft against mine. And I… freeze.
What the hell do I do now?
The stiffness in Oscar’s body softens. He steps closer, until our bodies are pressed together. And his hands cup my cheeks, cradling them as he tilts my head and takes over. His lips caress mine, gently at first. When a noise sounds in my throat, his urgency grows to match mine as I press into him.
