My feet move toward the sound of voices in the kitchen.He’sthere. I can feel it, and my need to be near him is almost too painful to ignore.
I drift past the low couch and the wide windows, following the warm clatter of voices and cookware. On the far side of the room, a short entryway opens up.
On one side is an open room with a heavy dining room table and matching chairs. The other way leads to a hallway I haven't been down yet, and straight ahead is the archway into the kitchen.
The smell of food grows stronger as I tiptoe forward, curling into my chest and making my stomach ache again.
The second I step into the kitchen, I see that the whole pack is here.
Beck and Warren are at the stove, shoulders angledtoward each other, both of them mid-laugh like someone just said something genuinely funny. Beck is barefoot and rumpled in soft lounge pants and a loose T-shirt with a spatula dangling from his hand.
Warren looks as relaxed despite his pressed slacks and a crisp button-up. His sleeves rolled to his forearms like he just got off work. The sight sends a small pang of unease through me, making me wonder how long I’ve been out.
Cass sits at the kitchen island in worn gym shorts and a fitted shirt. One leg is stretched out and the other bent, his posture loose but alert as he reads a stack of paperwork in front of him. There’s a sleek, stylish cane leaning against the island within easy reach, matte black with a subtle metal handle, understated but unmistakably fancy.
Grason is at the little dinette, his broad shoulders filling out a long-sleeved shirt.
He sees me first.
The alpha’s eyes go wide when they land on me, and his chair scrapes back hard as he stands too fast. His long legs smack into the side of the table, making it bang loudly against the floor. The sound is sharp and awful in the otherwise quiet room. He freezes for half a second, like he’s realized what he did.
Then everyone turns.
Beck’s laughter cuts off immediately. Warren straightens, eyes snapping to me, then to Cass, and back again. The whole room feels like it’s holding its breath.
I’m suddenly very aware of what I’m wearing. The oversized shirt and short boxers suddenly feel too flimsy at best. I cross my arms, praying they can’t see my chest through the thin material.
No one says anything.
Except Cass doesn’t look surprised to see me. He liftshis gaze to mine, calm and steady, like he knew exactly when I’d step through the doorway.
Grason clears his throat, hands hovering uselessly at his sides. “Uh—” He stops, clearly unsure what to do with himself. “Good evening.” His eyes cut to Cass as he snaps his mouth shut, then drops his gaze. He looks…guilty?
“Hey,” Beck says with a little laugh, pulling my attention away from Grason. “You’re up.”
Cass doesn’t say a word. He just keeps looking at me like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
Warren takes a single step toward me, then stops. He looks so conflicted, like he wants to talk to me but can’t for some reason.
“Are you hungry?” Beck asks.
I nod, suddenly feeling very out of place. My stomach lets out an aching twist, and I press a hand over it. “Yeah,” I say, a little embarrassed. “I’m starving.”
Beck’s whole face lights up with immediate relief. “Good,” he says quickly. “Dinner’s almost ready. I hope you like pork chops.”
My mouth waters before I can stop it, and judging by the way Cass’s eyes drop briefly to my hand on my stomach, he notices.
Or maybe he can feel it through our bond…
I’m not sure. I can feel his presence in the back of my mind. Calm and steady. And I can feel the slight ache in his leg, but other than that, I can’t pinpoint anything specific in his mood. There’s no way an alpha is that tranquil.
He has to be blocking me out somehow.
“Can I help with anything?” I ask, but Beck quickly tells me that everything is already pretty much done.
Cass turns to Warren. “Set the dining room table.”
Warren turns on his heel, already pulling plates from the cabinet.
