I can’t exactly give him grief for that considering it means we can give it to Robin, but I’m a little bit mad that he took the last bit of that other bar away from me earlier now.
“Let’s go sit down,” I suggest, motioning to the huge leather sofa.
“Sure,” Robin agrees, moving toward the couch and sitting down close to the furthest away arm.
Her emotions are a little more stable now, and a lot less ruled by the desire my perfume pushed her into. I’m going to have to be careful. It’s not exactly an easy thing to control, but I can be a bit more conscious of my body, enough to keep my instinct to perfume under wraps until she really wants to be claimed.
This is why Omegas shouldn’t be in control of these situations.
We’re too ready to rush headfirst into whatever feels best.
There are other things to consider here.
So, Jay’s the one who should set the tone.
He’s the Delta. He knows best.
I need to remember that.
With that in mind, I sit on the corner section of the L-Shaped sofa, leaving a decent sized space between me and Robin. Distance feels like the smart move here.
Kicking off my shoes, I curl up in that corner space, feet on the edge, knees up, arms around my legs. I rest my chin on my knees while we wait for Jay.
Robin slips out of her shoes and curls her legs under her, elbow resting on the arm of the couch, head resting on her hand.
Good. We’re getting comfy.
That’s never bad news.
Jay steps back into the room, with three big bars of chocolate in his hands.
“Hey!” I complain, realizing he really has been holding out on me.
He gives me a warning glance, and I push back the tirade I want to unleash.
Being a drama queen isn’t always cute.
I don’t want Robin to think I’m a whiny little bitch.
“I have a few varieties,” Jay explains, before he takes up the space between us.
Robin sits up straighter, legs dropping back down as her eyes light up.
“There are different kinds?”
Jay presses his lips together, and I can feel that spark of anger in him as if it’s mine, partly because I’m feeling the same thing at the same time. The difference is my anger is quickly doused by sadness. Our new mate has missed out on so much.
She’s spent most of her life so far sheltered from everything the outside world has to offer.
So many experiences were stolen from her.
At least we can help give her some of them now.
“Salted caramel is next level,” I tell her. “But you should try the plain milk stuff first. It’s the classic, and it’s really the best if you ask me.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” she says.
Jay passes me the salted caramel bar, and the dark cherry one.
