“This isn’t the right color,” he says softly. “Does this look lavender to you?”
Hunching down, I stare at it. It’s supposed to be some type of cream, but it definitely has more purple tones to it.
“It does,” I confess. “Do you want me to go back to the store?”
“Ugh, I can’t do anything right,” he mutters, checking the label. “Maldita sea.The color I wanted is on the label, but it’s definitely not right.”
Usually, Izzy would be able to shrug this shit off and mix his own damn color to match what he wants, but he’s getting really worked up.
“Izzy,” I whisper, pulling him close to me by the back of his neck until our foreheads touch. “This isn’t healthy. I know youknow this, baby. Take a deep breath, or I’m kidnapping you with Kyren to have your heat.”
“I can’t. Not yet. I need her to let us in,” he whines.
Goddamn it. Closing my eyes against his pain, I nod.
“Breathe with me then,” I rasp. “The color is pretty, and it’ll add some dimension to the pale color we’re painting everything else. Inhale.”
I bark out the command, knowing it’s the only way to make him pay attention to me when he’s this strung out. His chest expands immediately, a tear sliding down his cheek. It’s not the paint that has him like this, it’s everything else.
He’s entering a dangerous territory, and the longer he waits, the worse his heat will be when he finally goes off his meds. I can already feel that his temperature is warmer than it should be, and his eyes are bloodshot, as if he’s high as a kite.
Maybe I’ll get him drunk tonight and give him a cigar. We’ll travel to the edge of town, build a fire, and just hang out. He needs to take the edge off before he explodes.
There were small warning signs before this, but nothing to worry about.
The front door opens in front of us, but my eyes are on Izzy as I lean back.
“What’s wrong?” Silva asks, her voice much softer than I’m used to. “Are you hurting him?”
“No,” I mutter. “I’d never fucking hurt Izzy.”
“My cameras are wired for sound. I heard you alpha bark him,” she explains.
“He’s fine,” I grunt. It’s not her business. She’s not pack, not yet.
Izzy makes a pained sound before I watch him begin to compartmentalize shit. Ugh. I hate when he does this because now he’s going to bury it all. This tends to make it harder for Kyren and I to monitor.
“I’m good,” he says, blinking. The tear is gone, probably wiped away when my attention shifted to her for a moment, and he’s back to fixating on the paint. “I got the wrong paint color. I’ll have to figure it out.”
Stepping out onto the porch in a pajama shirt and socks, she ignores the chill as she focuses on Izzy.
“Show me. What do you think is wrong with it?” she asks.
“The ground is too cold to sit down on,” I warn her as she begins to lower herself to the ground. We’re all wearing hoodies for now until it warms up, and I pull off mine to lay it on the ground for her to kneel on.
It’s hard not to want to protect her from herself. A part of me feels as if I should pour all of my attention into Izzy while he’s in crisis, as if I’m letting him down if I don’t. However, I effortlessly just offered her my hoodie, and it didn’t cost anyone anything.
Kyren is suspiciously absent, but I’m sure he’s allowing me time to help Izzy. Our omega tends to shut down when there’s too much attention on him, just like he is now.
Fuck.
“It’s more lavender than cream,” Izzy grumbles. “I looked up the colors you mentioned the other day, but this isn’t right. I think the store mislabeled it.”
“You remembered what I told you?” she asks, glancing between the paint and him. “I was mentioning real colors, but sometimes you have to swatch paint to make sure it’ll match what you see online. While this looks more lavender, I kind of like it. Lexi always tells me I need to embrace good change.”
“Omegas don’t like change,” Izzy breathes, frowning at the paint can. “I can probably mix cream into it until it’s right.”
“Don’t,” Silva says gently, touching his wrist. Her brow raises at how warm his skin is but she doesn’t mention it. “Why don't you use it on the front door?”
