I leaned on the table, bringing myself closer to her. She smelled like Caelum, of course, but also dread and fatigue and sickening anxiety. Something was bugging her, and it seemed like she carried the burden alone. Neither my wolf nor I would stand for that.
“What’s wrong with you?” I asked. “You seem…off.”
“I said I’m fine,” she damn near growled, her bright eyes shifting amber with her mountain lion. Unlike our father and me, she turned feline during the full moon. We were half-breeds, our mother having been human before her death. That didn’t make us any less shifters, but old prejudices died hard. Being a dominant wolf, I didn’t have it as bad as her growing up. But I knew she struggled with the stigma of being different, of not fitting the perfect standards some of the assholes in this pack still held dear.
“You don’t seem fine,” I said. “You seem like you’re about to fucking implode.”
“Ugh.” She grabbed her stuff and stood. “You don’t have to fix everything, you know.”
“Hey.” I grabbed her wrist to stop her, my hold tightening when she tried to yank it away. “I love you. I’m here for you if you need anything.”
Her features softened, and she nodded. “I’m sorry. I know. I love you, too.”
She came around the table as I rose to pull her into a hug. Even though pack was family, all we had left of our parents was each other. I loved her more than my own life, and I’d gladly lay it down if it meant her happiness.
“I know you’re trying to help,” she grumbled into my chest. “But this isn’t something you can do for me.”
“Just tell me you’re safe, and I’ll leave it alone,” I said.
“I’m safe.” She glanced up and smiled. “I’m okay.”
“Alright.” I conceded, but it didn’t make me feel any better. Something wasn’t right. It sat like a tiny splinter under my skin, annoying and persistent, but I trusted her enough to take care of herself, to let me know if I could do anything.
When she stepped back, she glanced to the right and waved. Caelum stood by the entrance to the cafeteria, his hands in his pockets, a mischievous curl to his lips. Mill may have threatened to kick my ass not three hours ago, but if that little shit did anything to endanger my sister, I wouldn’t care who his siblings were. Neither Mill nor Wyn would keep me from putting him in his place. Lyra waved goodbye and smiled at Caelum, and together they headed down the corridors leading to their designated patrol area.
I pushed my concern to the back of my mind, determined to pick it up later, before gathering Wyn’s meal and heading to her house.
I ignored the flutter in my gut as I walked up the steps to her porch, telling myself it had nothing to do with her. It was just residual magic from her heat. It was the anxiety for my sister and my conversation with Mill. I wanted the best for Wyn, even if that wasn’t me. And when I knocked on her door, I clenched my trembling fingers into a fist and ignored that, too.
The entry opened with a gust of her feminine citrus scent, and I swallowed the groan threatening to pour out of my chest. She wore a pair of leggings and an oversized sweater, her delicate feet clad in soft, fuzzy socks. She’d piled her mane of curls on top of her head with little pieces sticking out to frame her face. My fingers itched to brush them behind her ears, but I managed to restrain myself when her bright brown eyes twinkled, and she flashed me that beautiful grin.
“Fen.” She blinked and shook her head. “What are you doing here?”
I held up the bag of food. “Checking in on you.”
Wyn glanced at the parcel before looking up at me again. “Oh.”
Silence grew between us, one where I froze my ass off outside while she seemed to wonder if this was a trick.
“Going to invite me in, or should I?—”
“Oh, right.” She stepped back and sighed. “Of course. Come in.”
I stomped snow off my boots before entering her cabin and kicking them off by her shoe rack. I’d been in her house hundreds of times before, but never had her delicious perfume hit me so entirely. She was everywhere, and it filled my soul with a strange sense of completeness. Like she belonged everywhere in me. Like I belonged here with her. Like our lives were destined to intertwine, and this was a runaway roller coaster with no signs of stopping.
She grabbed the bag and headed to her dining table on the right, nestled in the center of her kitchen. I watched the light from the overhead lamp glint off her hair, making her seem heavenly and ethereal.
“You didn’t have to do this,” she said as she reached inside the insulated carrier to remove containers of chicken, vegetables, mashed potatoes, and dinner rolls. Hell, I’d gathered enough to feed a small army, but I couldn’t stand the thought of her starving. Nor could I tolerate her trekking through the snow toward the cafeteria to feed herself. I was the one who told her to get some rest. It seemed only fitting that I be the one to make sure she actually listened.
“I know, but I wanted to.” I glanced around her space, taking in all the little things that made it distinctly hers. Bookcases lined the walls, packed to the brim with medicinal texts and scientific anthologies. But my girl also liked fiction, a whole space devoted to Stephen King and trashy alien romances. Pictures of Mill, Caelum, and her parents lined the mantle, and comfortable, worn furniture decorated the walls. It felt homey in a way I’d never bothered to make my space.
“Snickerdoodles?” She squealed, returning my attention to her. “How did you know?”
“I have a narc,” I said.
She narrowed her eyes and grinned. “Gods, Fen. I can’t eat all of this.”
“Hmm.” Suddenly flushed and pleased, I stepped toward her and leaned against the table, crossing my arms. “I’m going to love seeing you try.”
