“I hope she can relax,” I rubbed my hands together, nervous energy coursing through my body. “I know it’s going to take time for her to settle in and trust us, but I also wish we could just press fast forward.”
“Would make a lot of things in life easier.” Mac glanced up from his book. “You said she was singing, Tray?”
“Humming,” Tray corrected, “But basically.”
“That’s a good sign, right?” Dixon lumbered out of the kitchen holding a shaker cup, likely filled with his normal post-workout cocktailof Alpha tonics, liquid vitamin, pasteurized egg white, yogurt, and frozen fruit. The contents of the clear cup were purple today. Probably blueberries. After he’d left the kitchen horny as hell, he’d jacked off, hit the gym, and showered. All of that in the span of about forty-five minutes. I’d accomplished exactly nothing except ordering the food and obsessively checking for delivery updates.
“I think it’s a fantastic sign,” Mac confirmed. “She’s letting her guard down a little.”
Dixon slowly nodded, shoulders relaxing a little. “Good.” He moved to the sectional and sat down, throwing his feet up on the coffee table and knocking back half the smoothie before swiping his forearm across his mouth.
Tray, swaying a little to rock his furry passenger, moved to the patio doors. “Look out there, Josie. Bet you don’t like that pool at all. So much water.”
“Do cats not like water?” I asked stupidly, wanting to distract myself.
“Cartoon cats definitely hate water.” Tray shrugged, lifting one of Josie’s paws and pressing her toe beans against the glass. She meowed. I didn’t speak cat yet, but if I were her, I’d be annoyed. “I’m going to FaceTime my sister later. She’s going to have a cow that I have a cat.”
“Your sister is the most easily impressed person on the planet.” Dixon belched. “Fucking blueberries. Got to tell the shopper to stop buying them.”
“Exactly why she keeps dating shitheads.” Tray nodded. “Thankfully she’s getting out of that stage. I think. And the blueberries weren’t bought for you anyway, Dix. There are two bags of iced-over frozen peaches in there.”
“I’m sick of peaches.” Dixon stood up, scowling at Tray.
“Then tell the shopper. The email comes weekly, Dix. All you got to do is respond with a list of whatever the hell you want.”
“Too much fucking trouble,” Dixon grumbled, before disappearing back into the kitchen.
“I really thought Tessa’s arrival had instantly cured him,” Mac mused. “But it seems not.”
“None of us are going to really get better until we’re properly mated,” Tray pointed out the obvious, physiological truth. He turned around, lifting Josie up against his left shoulder. The cat went limp noodle, curving around his body and closing her eyes. Now she was settling in just fine. Instantly at home like she’d been here all her life.
“I mean, come on.” Tray pressed. “We all took health in school. Dating doesn’t do it. Fucking doesn’t do it. The only thing that keeps us from going off the rails and turning feral is marking a mate. The right mate. And be marked in return. It’s not rocket science. Everything else might feel good, and you know I meaneverythingelse, but it solves nothing long-term.”
“We can’t hurry her.” I bristled, wondering if Tray was implying that we should move things along even if Tessa was unwilling. “Even if we want to, even if it sucks and our insides boil, and our Alphas go crazy.”
“Fuck, I know that. Tessa needs to be comfortable, and she has to consent, but until then, the going feral status quo stays in place.” Tray rolled his eyes. “Honestly, you act like you don’t even know me.” He held up one fisted hand then began lifting fingers. “Consent. Protection. Cuddles.” Turning back around, he unlocked and slid open the patio door. “Josie and I are going to explore the courtyard.”
Mac cleared his throat and stood. “You’re projecting, Ryder. We’re all willing to honor Tessa’s timeline. You saw Dixon this morning. Bursting at the seams, but he didn’t push. He was arguably the one suffering most, and he watched you kiss our Omega without losing control. You might have pined for this woman since that concert, but we have all yearned for a mate. We have all waited. Yet, so far, you are the only one who has had a proper taste.”
I roughly slammed my hands inside my pockets. The asshole wasn’t wrong. I just wish sometimes he’d give the high and mighty act a damn break.
“I’m going to set the table for breakfast. What’s that ETA?” Mac glanced at his watch, more out of habit than need.
“Last I checked it was maybe another half an hour. Estimate keptchanging though.” I tried not to sound bitter, but a little acid crept into my words. Mac didn’t react though.
“Lovely. Plenty of time to put the dining room in order and pull out the good plates.” He turned around, strolling away in that manner of his which broadcasted to onlookers that he couldn’t be bothered, even when he was.
I watched Mac as he was swallowed up by the shadows of the short, arched hallway leading to the kitchen. He’d likely arrange things as if we were about to have a photoshoot withBeta Homes & Gardens, a magazine which often featured Alpha estates as a source of inspiration. I wanted to shout after my stupid, rational band mate and remind him that our dining room was just fine, no fussing required. Sure, the table was cluttered with unsold merchandise from the last concert, there might have a half a dozen storage tubs stacked against one wall we’d inherited after Tray’s grandmother passed, and the floor might be fifty shades of slick, but he didn’t have to go fucking overboard.
Quickly, as the negative thoughts swirled, I realized I was only pissed at myself. Of course we should go all out for Tessa, especially after the takeout disaster last night. He was doing the right thing. They all were. And I was being a selfish bastard, per usual. Mac had called me out on my ‘transference’ of feelings, and I’d not liked being held accountable. I was the one who didn’t want to give Tessa time. I was the one who wanted to speed things up.
My lips tingled, as if they’d decided of their own violation to remember the kiss. Tessa’s lips against mine. Tessa telling me to just kiss her. When we’d parted, I’d seen the look on Dixon’s face and the way Mac was holding him back. I’d played it cool, but when Tray commented that Tessa was the only drug we needed, my inner Alpha had reared its ugly head and wanted to possess every part of her, sharing be damned. But this was what I’d wanted, what I’d all convinced them of doing. One Omega to keep our pack tightly knit. So eventually, they were going to kiss her too. They were going to hold her. Mark her. Knot her.
I fucking loved the guys. They were my best friends in the world,brothers, kindred spirits. Us all loving Tessa should be the most natural, amazing thing in the world.
What was Tessa doing right now? Was her body soaking wet, snowy bubbles crowding around her? Was she still humming? I fucking wanted to race to the pack suit, charge into the bathroom, and launch myself into the water beside her. I took a deep, settling breath. The jealousy. The overwhelming need. The flares of anger, and of pushing my own bullshit feelings onto others, wasn’t normal. Unlike Dixon who just broke shit—usually furniture or walls—I broke on the inside until I was a shit human being. How the hell was Mac as the oldest holding it together? How the hell was young, hungry Tray not falling apart?
My phone pinged. Thankful for the damn distraction, I fished it out of my pocket and read the notification. The delivery driver was one street away.
