Jesus.
Where the hell is my phone?
By the time we make it into the living room, Malachy and Patrick have assembled most of his other toys.
Lucky plays hard for hours, but even then, he’d skip dinner if we would let him. He acts a bit like Charlotte is torturing him when we sit down to eat, and as soon as he’s released from his booster seat, he runs back to play.
He’s tired and cranky as Malachy helps him dress following his bath, but I let them know I’ll take over for story time.
Charlotte already had a rough go of it getting him to behave in the bath. Once he’s clad in a Pull-Up and pajamas, he picks two books and settles onto his bed.
Malachy leads Charlotte from the room, and I sit on the floor next to Lucky’s bed, taking the books.
“Which one should we read first?” I hold them up so he can examine the covers as I read the titles, but he picked them, so I’m sure he knows what to expect. “This one is about two dogs who go on an adventure to find their missing crow neighbor. Or we can read about the elephant who learns the importance of having all kinds of friends.”
“Hmm,” Lucky says, squinting as he glances between them. “The friend one first.”
“Very well,” I agree, placing the puppy book on my lap as I get started. It takes a bit of practice to learn how to keep the book tilted so he can see the pictures as I read, but we get the hang of it.
After the first story, he grabs his plush dinosaur, looping his arm around its neck as he rolls to face me. His eyes get heavy but pop open again often, like he’s checking to make sure I haven’t moved.
“Um, Cormac,” he says, and I pause reading the story.
“Yes?”
“Does we live here now?”
“Do you live here now?” I put the book down, reaching over to run my fingers through his hair. “I think so. Would you like that?”
“Yeah, I guess,” he says. “Finish my story.”
I chuckle, shaking my head.
He’s quite demanding, but I think we’ve had a much smoother transition than if he were a few years older. At this age, he seems to be better at rolling with the punches, but I guess only time will tell.
The four of us spend our first night together in the pack bedroom, but we’re all exhausted. No one instigates anything sexual, and it ends up being a night of cuddling up to our omega. With three of us, one would have to be on the outside if not for Malachy suggesting Charlotte sleep right on top of his chest.
Not that it lasts all night—she eventually moves to lie between him and Patrick, but I don’t realize until morning. Itwas nice to fall asleep with my hand on her back and her sweet cherry limeade scent so close.
I avoided visiting my guest in my workshop on Christmas, which might be cruel, but I wanted him to spend a bit of time worrying what would happen to him if I never came back.
If he’s not willing to communicate helpful information, then I might as well just kill him.
Also, I’m bonded now.
Charlotte is officially mine.
That means it’s my responsibility to do what has to be done. He won’t like it once I stop asking politely and pull out my tools, but I don’t make idle threats. If he doesn’t speak during this session, I’ll inform him what’s coming this evening.
Placing down McCarthy’s food and water, I cross the room and take a seat in my chair.
He refuses to make eye contact, but he does peek at me more than he has in the past.
“I gave you an extra day to think about your loyalty.” I push my glasses up, quirking an eyebrow. “You have a choice to make between preserving your own life and trying to protect those who don’t even know you’re still alive.”
McCarthy says nothing.
I count out three minutes of silence before saying, “I’d like you to tell me about Candice.”
