"Don't be." He picked up his fork, then set it down again, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his napkin, his amber eyes dropping to the table. "They're part of why I left. Them and... everything else."
"Everything else?" I took a bite of the chicken, and it was incredible — tender and flavorful, the sauce rich and perfectly balanced, the mushrooms earthy and savory. I made a small sound of appreciation, and his face lit up, some of the tension draining from his shoulders, his scent brightening.
"You like it?" His voice was eager, hopeful, like my approval was the only thing that mattered, his amber eyes searching my face for any sign of dishonesty.
"Kol, this is amazing." I took another bite, letting my eyes close to savor the flavors, letting him see how much I meant it. "Seriously. This might be the best thing I've ever eaten."
When I opened my eyes, he was staring at me with an expression I couldn't quite read — wonder, maybe, or disbelief, his lips parted slightly, his eyes bright with something that looked almost like tears.
"Thank you." His voice was rough, thick with emotion, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. "That means... that means a lot."
We ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the food incredible, the candlelight warm, the music soft in the background. It was romantic in a way I hadn't expected — thoughtful and intimate and clearly planned down to the smallest detail.
"You were telling me about why you left." I spoke gently, not pushing, giving him space to decline, my fork pausing over my plate. "You don't have to, if you don't want to. But I'd like to know."
Kol set his fork down, his appetite apparently forgotten, his amber eyes going distant, his fingers resuming their restless movement against his napkin.
"I was always too much." His voice was quiet, reflective, so different from his usual bright energy, his shoulders curling inward like he was trying to make himself smaller. "Too loud, too eager, too needy. My parents were overwhelmed with five kids — I was the youngest, the accident, the one who was never supposed to happen. They didn't have time or energy left for me. And my brothers..." He shook his head, a bitter smile twisting his lips, his jaw tightening. "They made it clear I was a burden.The annoying little brother who wouldn't shut up, who followed them around, who just wanted someone to pay attention to him."
My heart ached for the lonely little boy he must have been, desperate for affection he never received.
"I presented as Alpha when I was sixteen, and I thought — finally. Finally I'd be like them. Finally I'd be enough." He laughed, but there was no humor in it, just old pain poorly hidden, his hands clenching on the napkin until his knuckles went white. "But I was the wrong kind of Alpha. Too soft, too emotional, too eager to please. My brothers were all traditional Alphas — dominant, aggressive, competitive. And I was..." He gestured at himself, his expression self-deprecating, his smile not reaching his eyes. "This."
"There's nothing wrong with this." My voice came out fierce, protective, my hand reaching across the table before I could stop it. "There's nothing wrong with you, Kol."
He looked at me, his amber eyes vulnerable and hopeful and so desperately wanting to believe me, his fingers twitching toward mine like he was afraid to reach back. "You really think so?"
"I know so." I took his hand, feeling his fingers tremble slightly in mine, feeling the way his pulse raced against my palm. "You're kind and thoughtful and you light up every room you walk into. You make people feel welcome. You make me feel welcome. That's not too much. That's exactly right."
His breath caught, his eyes going bright with unshed tears, his throat working as he struggled to find words.
"I left home when I was eighteen." His voice came out rough, strained, his fingers tightening around mine like he was holding onto a lifeline. "Couldn't take it anymore. Spent years drifting, never fitting in anywhere. Pack after pack turned me away — said I wasn't Alpha enough, wasn't serious enough, wasn't...enough." He swallowed hard, his jaw working. "And then I found Longhorn. Found Reid and Nolan and Sawyer. And they actually wanted me. Not despite who I am, but because of it."
"Of course they did." I squeezed his hand, my thumb tracing circles on his skin, feeling the tension slowly drain from his grip. "You're amazing, Kol."
"But I'm still scared." The admission came out barely above a whisper, his eyes dropping to our joined hands, his voice cracking on the words. "Even here, even with them, I sometimes feel like the extra one. Like they're the real pack and I'm just... tagging along. And now with you..." He looked up at me, and the vulnerability in his expression stole my breath, his amber eyes swimming with emotion. "I see the way you look at Reid. The way you trust him. And Nolan makes everything calm and easy, and Sawyer understands you in ways I never could, and I'm just... I'm just Kol. The one who talks too much and burns the bacon."
"Hey." I stood up from my chair and moved around the table, sinking to my knees beside him so I could look up into his face, my hands finding both of his. "Look at me."
He did, his amber eyes swimming with tears he was clearly fighting not to shed, his jaw tight with the effort of holding himself together, his whole body trembling slightly.
"You are not extra." I took both his hands in mine, holding them tight, willing him to feel the truth in my words. "You are not less than. You are not just anything. You're Kol. You're the first one who made me laugh after I got here. You're the one who brought me offerings for my nest and actually told me what they meant. You're the one who planned this whole beautiful evening just to make me feel special." I reached up and cupped his face, feeling his stubble rough against my palm, feeling him lean into my touch like he was starving for it. "You're not tagging along. You're essential. Do you understand me?"
"Aster..." My name came out broken, reverent, his eyes searching mine like he was looking for the lie and couldn't find one, his hands coming up to cover mine where they cupped his face, his fingers trembling.
"I mean it." I stroked my thumb across his cheekbone, watching his eyes flutter at the touch, feeling the wetness of a tear that had escaped despite his best efforts. "I want all of you. Not Reid or Nolan or Sawyer instead of you. All of you. Including you. Especially you."
Something shifted in his expression — hope warring with disbelief, want warring with fear. His hands tightened on mine, his breath coming faster.
"I've been so scared to hope." His voice was barely a whisper, cracked with emotion, his amber eyes locked on mine. "Scared that you'd never look at me the way you look at them. Scared that I'd always be the afterthought, the consolation prize."
"You're not." I leaned in closer, close enough to feel his breath on my lips, close enough to see the way his pupils dilated, the way his lips parted. "You're not an afterthought. You're not a consolation prize. You're Kol. And I want you."
"Aster." My name came out like a prayer, desperate and hopeful and aching, his whole body leaning toward me.
I kissed him.
His lips were soft, warm, tasting faintly of the wine we'd been drinking and something sweeter underneath. He made a sound against my mouth — something between a gasp and a whimper — and for a second he went completely still, like he couldn't believe this was happening, like he was afraid to move in case it turned out to be a dream.
