“This is it,” I tell them. “It’s not huge, but I like it.”
My apartment isn’t just a place I rent; I consider it a home. The front area has a cream couch with a bookshelf against the wall, filled with books, movies, and photos of me and my parents. Watercolor portraits of Marlin and Mervin hang proudly next to the shelves. A cat themed calendar is by the fridge in the small kitchen, and pumpkin scented candles Maeve made me sit on the coffee table in front of the couch. A tall, beige cat tree looms to the right of my television, which sits on a dark wood entertainment center.
My apartment is welcoming and comfortable.
It used to be Piper’s favorite place to go before she found her pack.
Rowan immediately makes his way over to my bookshelf, scanning the items that adorn it. “Cozy video games, huh?”
I forgot about those.
“Yeah. I used to play a little bit,” I shrug. “Not much, anymore.” I clear my throat awkwardly.
I haven’t played since the accident.
“Why not?” Rowan asks, holding the case to a restaurant simulation game I used to adore. “These are fun as hell.”
I look to Ryland, who’s been eyeing me carefully. “If you ever want to start playing again,” he says gently, “you know who to ask.”
I give him a half-smile. “How convenient that you own a video game company.”
But there’s understanding in his gaze that I appreciate.
Ryland has shown an abundance of patience since we first met at the rescue and I ran away.
Yet, when I saw him again, he made sure I knew that he would be happy to be in my life any way I wanted him.
Ryland is a genuinely good person.
Just like Rowan, who is going through everything on my shelf, skimming the spines of books and game cases with his fingers and whispering the titles to himself. It’s intimate in its own way, but I find I don’t mind.
“Good choices,” he says as he turns to me.
I raise an eyebrow. “Are you done inspecting my things?”
He cocks his head. “No, not really. We’ve got a lot of lost time to make up for.” His eyes blaze while Ryland rolls his eyes.
“So dramatic, Rowan,” he murmurs, and I smile. Two dark figures burst into the room and hurtle themselves under the couch. Tufts of black fur slowly fall through the air, the only evidence that a cat was even in the room.
“Rowan’s not the only dramatic man here,” I say, nodding at the couch. “Marlin and Merv say hello.”
I have no idea where the boys were before—but they decided to make their grand entrance and scare themselves in the process.
“I am not dramatic,” Rowan argues, narrowing his eyes and puffing out his chest. “I’m passionate.”
“Uh-huh,” Ryland mutters.
But I find myself joining at my bookshelf, standing next to him. “Any passionate thoughts you want to give after looking at my things?” I ask. “You’re worse than a cat, you know. Immediately digging through everything.”
Ryland joins us, surveying the contents of my bookshelf, and suddenly, I’m sandwiched between the brothers.
My inner Omega stirs to life, and a throbbing starts in my core that I try to ignore.
But my cunt flutters at our proximity, and I swallow, trying to keep my composure.
Their scents areridiculoustogether.
Delicious, welcoming, and arousing.
