“But?”
“But,” I agree.
“Breakfast first?” Nathan suggests. “Things usually look a little better on a full stomach”
Good advice, once I get out of smelling range of the cat food—but also, not a great idea because the delay doesn’t give me any more insight. I eat, or rather nibble and graze on, a pancake while the rest dig in until, finally, Corin grunts and flicks a fingernail against my still half-full glass of smoothie.
“Drink that up, and then, we’ll talk.”
“It’s too pink.” I wrinkle my nose. He added a bunch of strawberries and raspberries when I wasn’t looking.
“You love pink,” Corin points out.
“It looks like blood.” Not completely accurate, but the liquid’s dark ruddy swirls recall memories of blood dripping from the bite on Dan’s arm and Nathan licking it up—an act so much sexier in theory than reality; maybe I’ll find it more arousing if I’m the one being licked?
Corin huffs and snatches the glass. Turning to Nathan and Dan, he says “You have the freedom of the kitchen. Can one of you make this less pink? More yogurt and kale perhaps?”
Standing, he extends his hand in my direction. “Come with me?”
My fingers are cold or his hot as he leads me to the living room. He sits on the sofa and pulls me into his arms, half on his lap. One of the cats glares at us from the other end of the sofa, or glares at me, if not Corin. Then, it huffs and returns to licking its whiskers.
“What’s wrong?” Corin asks.
“I don’t know if I can bite you.” I climb over to sit astride him, bracing my hands on his thighs while his settle on my hips. “It never really came up with Max. He didn’t care about it—didn’t need it—and, at least for most of the time, didn’twantit either.” Not that Max and I talked about it often, but his expression the few times the subject came up had made me disinclined to introduce it.
“We’ve lived together for years without a bond.” Corin shrugs. “We can keep doing that.”
“But you want it.”
“Yes.” Intentionally or not, his face hints at how much, and as his fingers tighten on my hips.
“And …” Glancing back at doorway, I see Nathan and Dan hovering there, Dan holding a glass of a green-flecked-with-redliquid. The ease between them is almost palpable. “I want what it brings. I want to know what it means to have a bond.”
“You don’t have to be the one to bite for that,” Corin strokes my waistline with his thumbs.
“But otherwise it won’t be permanent.” I bite my lip enough to feel the pinch, but not to the point of hurt.
He shrugs. “True.”
“Remember, bites don’t usually come out of nowhere.” Nathan drags an armchair close and sits near enough to rub my shoulder. “None of us are going to sneak up and bite you while you’re reading or brushing your teeth or sleeping. Bites usually take place while making love, when you’re already feeling good, and the pain is fleeting.”
Which I knew, intellectually, and sounds much better than biting out of the blue, but I’m still not sure I can manage my half.
Not to mention, practically speaking, that though I’ve lived with Corin for ages, we’ve only beentogethera week or less—the same amount of time I’ve been reconnected with Nathan and Dan. Going on instinct is all very well, and supposedly, most alphas and omegas who pack up as adults do so within a matter of weeks if not days. Still, for all I was raised in a pack, I’m a beta, and I’ve not let myself follow my instincts for ages.
I’m rocking on Corin’s thighs, half turned on and half scared out of my wits.
Dan sits on the sofa next to Corin and holds the glass near my lips. “Drink—you need something to ground you.”
Holding the glass in shaky hands, I drain it slowly, mouthful by mouthful. Berries. Yogurt. Ice. Greens. The chill eases the throat I hadn’t realized ached and soothes my stomach. I set the glass on a side table at the end of the sofa and retreat to the other armchair. Perched there, I can watch them all at once.
Their perfumes have started to mingle, or maybe I’m just getting used to them. I gain no insight from the aroma eachexudes, except that I like the combination of the three—maybe too much, because, without bidding, I say, “I want to try, but maybe not all the way, not yet.”
For three very different men, alphas, they stare back at me with the same bemused expression, then exchange a series of shrugs and head shakes until, at length, they look back.
Corin, as head alpha, has evidently been elected to respond.
“Do you mind explaining that in a little more detail? So we can understand?”
