Ragon nods once, decisive. "Food and shade."
He leads the way toward the main café. Inside, it's cooler, the air-conditioning humming, smells more contained. The food isn't anything special—burgers, fries, salad in plastic bowls—but it's quiet enough that my instincts settle again.
We find a booth in the corner, Ragon taking the outside seat, me tucked safely between him and Eli. Drake sits across from us, spreading ketchup packets across the table like playing cards.
"Here." Eli pushes one of the water bottles toward me. "Drink."
"Yes, doctor," Drake says, mimicking my tone from earlier. "Hydrate the omega. It's the law."
"Not the law. Common sense."
Drake leans toward me conspiratorially. "The law of Eli."
Ragon clears his throat, eyes narrowing just enough to make Drake sit back and pretend to behave. But his scent is amused.
I take a long drink, feeling it wash away the dryness in my throat. Eli steals one of my fries. When I raise a brow at him, he actually looks sheepish.
"You weren't eating them."
"I was getting to them."
Drake nudges my foot under the table. "You should eat the fries before they mutiny."
"This is a deeply unsafe environment."
"This is a pack environment," Ragon corrects, his knee bumping mine. His voice goes a shade softer. "Means we take care of each other."
My chest squeezes in that sharp-sweet way that feels almost like pain. I focus on my food to hide it, my mind skirting the edges of that five-year mark again.
After lunch, Eli taps our schedule with a fingertip. "We've done flamingos, small primates, aviary, lions, the seal pool, and lunch. Next on the agenda—"
"Bookstore," Drake declares.
My heart does a little skip. "There's a bookstore?"
Drake gasps like I've just said I don't believe in gravity. "Have I failed you so wholly as a mate-adjacent figure?"
"You are not a mate," Ragon says automatically.
"Not yet. Have a little faith, sir."
Heat creeps up my neck at the reminder.Not a mate. Not bonded. Not officially anything, on paper.
Not yet.
Five years, the traitorous part of my brain whispers.One more month.
Eli sees it. I can tell by the way his expression softens, the way his scent warms like honey. "You'll like thebookstore. It's small, but it has nesting journals. And the soft-backed editions you like."
"Soft-backed editions," Drake repeats. "Truly, your ability to make everything sound like a research paper is unparalleled."
We pay and step back into the heat.
By the time we leave the zoo gates, the crowds are thicker. A cluster of alphas near the exit gate laughs too loudly, smelling like cheap beer and bravado. One of them glances over when he catches my scent, eyes tracking me a second longer than is polite.
Ragon steps forward in that effortless way of his, broad shoulders blocking me from the stranger's view. Drake squeezes my hand. Eli shifts closer on my other side.
The alpha looks away almost immediately.
