“It’ll be okay, Lucy,” Branson says quietly, ignoring the fact that the bond is a total tattletale that loves ratting meout. “You’ll see. Everything will be okay. We’ll stay close to each other, and we’ll find a way to make this work.”
It makes me deeply uncomfortable how much I like what he’s saying.
“I want to keep working,” I tell him with a little more heat than required.
“Of course,” he replies. “I want to keep working too.”
I turn my face and hide the start of a smile in my pillow. Not going to lie, I love Branson’s response. It’s such a green flag that he didn’t think I’d assume he’d keep working just because he’s the alpha.
As I lie in his arms, it occurs to me that we’ll have to sort something out regarding our living arrangements. We’ll have to live together. It’s something all mated partners do. We can’t be apart for any length of time for the foreseeable future. The bond won’t allow it.
“Where are we going to live?” I ask, panicking. I love my apartment. It’s the first place I’ve ever lived on my own, and I hate the thought of being forced to move. I hate new places and big changes, and being mated unexpectedly is already a minefield.
He snuggles a little closer, tucking his knees against the back of mine. “Where do you want to live?”
“I really love my apartment.” Though I try, I find myself unable to remove the consternation from my voice.Technically, as alpha, it’s up to Branson where we live. He can decide and use his alpha voice on me if I disagree. If he does that, I’ll have no choice but to comply. “It’s, it’s close to the office, and it has a nice view, and I like the kitchen, and even though the toilet and basin are olive green and ugly, I like them, and, and…”
“It’s okay. We can live in your apartment for as long as you want, and someday, when you’re ready, we can find a place that’s ours. I don’t mind where we live in town, but I’d like to come up to the cabin for weekends when we can. This is where I feel more at home than anywhere else.”
“Will we drive up here?” I ask.
“Yes.”
I roll over to face him and smooth the sheet between us, flattening it several times. “What’s your take on junk food on road trips?”
He considers the question briefly, eyes traveling up and slightly to the left. “I think that if you don’t have a good selection of junk food, then you can’t call it a road trip.”
“Exactly! If there’s no junk food, then it’s a drive, not a road trip.” I’m more buoyed by his response than I probably should be, but to me, enjoying junk food on road trips is a true and deep sign of compatibility. “What kind of junk food do you like?”
“I like savory snacks. Chips, jerky, and things like that. You?”
“I like milky treats and big nuts,” I tease.
Beside me, Branson laughs. A soft, gravelly rumble that makes the bond glow yellow and orange. “Did you just make a naughty little joke, Lucy?”
He sounds hopeful and sincere and so fucking sexy that I’m unable to temper my reply.
“Oh, there’s nothing little about it, alpha.”
Branson stops laughing and is quiet for a moment. Then he rolls me onto my back and leans over me, looking into my eyes. It’s a pose that’s so familiar from my heat—when he leaned over me like this and fucked me over and over—that it’s hard not to let my mind wander. No, not wander. It’s hard not to relive the toe-curling sensation of him moving inside me. It’s hard not to reach for him and pull him toward me. To wrap my legs around him and cling to him.
Confusion causes a solemn line to dip between his brows. “Omega, are you flirting with me?”
“I, uh, um…” I totally am. And not by mistake either. I meant to do it. I wanted to do it, and I wanted him to look at me the way he’s looking at me now. The worst of it is, I have no choice but to answer truthfully because I know the bond will tattle on me if I don’t. “Yes,” I squeak, ears going hot.
Alphas shouldn’t be allowed to have eyes like Branson’s. They shouldn’t. They already have so many advantages with all that muscle and brute force. To add soft amber eyes that drill into me and ripple with shadowy smiles and fondness seems exceptionally unfair.
“Lucien,” he growls, voice thick and gruff. “May I kiss you?”
It’s an odd thing for an alpha to ask an omega he’s had his dick in more times than either of us can count. His tongue too. We kissed during my heat all the time, and I’m not going to lie, I find it attractive as hell that he’s asking now. Say what you will about old-world manners, but they definitely have the potential to make a guy swoon.
My hand finds its way into his hair, fingers threading through thick locks as they slide to the back of his head. My jaw clicks and a little fission of nerves quivers in my belly.
It turns out, there’s something very different about kissing in heat and out of it.
I swallow hard.
“Yes,” I whisper.
