Maybe the other night on stream had been a bigger step forward than I thought.
I hoped so, hoped that Cameo’s offer was as much the work of Indi and Joon as it was his. That they wanted me as much as he did.
As much as I wanted them.
There was something between the three of us, I knew that. And it was clear that they did too. It was just a matter of who was going to make the first move.
The porch lights clicked on automatically, bathing the white painted wood in a wash of warm light. A pair of rocking chairs waited to the side of the door, like this was the home of some seventy-five-year-old pack instead of a den full of late twenty-somethings.
A bit silly, but bit by bit I was learning that when it came to this pack, what was on the surface was only a fraction of the story.
Am I really going to do this? Have this pack’s baby?
I’d been trying to work out the answer since Cameo made the offer, but the more I thought about it the more confused I got. Sure, I wanted the money, but there was another reason that I’d finally broken down and agreed.
Four somethings, if I was totally honest with myself.
My eyes met Indigo’s, far too briefly as I crossed over the threshold into the pack house with a feeling like I’d already signed the contract. Standing there, on the immaculately clean hardwood in my scuffed up shoes… it felt like I was right where I wanted to be.
“Welcome to our home,” the alpha said as they moved to take my jacket, hands grazing my shoulders as they slid the fabric away.
“Thank you,” I said, clearing my throat against the squeak in my voice.
Minutes ago, I’d been so terrified of my own shadow I couldn’t even see straight. And now? I was standing in the front hall of a pack I barely knew, feeling safer and more cared for than I’d been in my entire life.
Was this the power of a scent match? The inescapable pull towards the salted caramel scented alpha and their kind, dark brown eyes that I just wanted to?—
"Of course, doll," Indigo said with a cheerful wink, the endearment rolling off their tongue like it was nothing as they hung my jacket, putting their hand out to do the same for Joon.
I turned to hide my blush and my breath caught. If I had to guess, the charming alpha and the complete shock of the house from the other side of the front door were equally to blame.
What the fuck?!
Where the outside of the Lombardi home was a pastel dream that made birthday cakes seethe with jealousy, the inside was,well, a goth’s wet dream.
The front hall, which looked to go the length of the house until it reached the kitchen on the far side, was broken up by a pair of darkly stained French doors on either side. Tall trim came up to my rib cage in the same color, met with a beautiful deep green wallpaper that offered a subtle sheen from the lamps dotting every flat surface.
Tiffany, I think the style was called. A bit like stained glass and offering something on the side of a low, warm glow instead of enough light to read by.
Moody.
A large, hanging light fixture was the room's centerpiece. It looked like it was made of wrought iron, coiling into different woven rods with warm-toned light bulbs at the ends that’d been left purposefully bare.
“Okay,” I said with a blink, taking in the beautifully carved railing of the staircase halfway down the hall. “Maybe I see what Joon was saying.”
"Do you want a tour?" Indi asked, the excitement in their voice obvious.
“They’ll only point out the friendly ghosts,” Joon said dryly, passing me with a playful nudge of their hip in their sock feet. “Promise.”
I laughed, even though I wasn’t entirely sure that he was joking. “Absolutely. You did this all by yourself, Indi?”
“Cameo and Marcus did some of the heavy lifting,” the alpha said, leading me into the set of double doors on the left, to a sitting room with a fabulous caramel leather sofa and high bookshelves. “But I did the design work and sourcing, with a little help from a friend of mine in antiques.”
The chairs sitting opposite, facing away from the stone fireplace towards the windows, looked more like they belonged in a museum than sat on. The avocado green velour played off the deep eggplant of the walls in a feast for the eyes that could’ve easily landed between the pages of a home design magazine.
They made magazines for people who hated Millennial grey, right?
“Have you ever thought about playing the Zims?” I asked, grinning as Indigo put their arm around my shoulders, Joon’s hand finding mine.
