“All of you can come and go as you please, why do I need to stay here? Is it really for my safety? Or is it something else?”
Piers’ hazel eyes sharpen on me and he carefully sets the knife next to the cutting board before rounding the island. “What else would it be, sunshine?”
I shrug, not meeting his gaze as he stops in front of me, crowding into my space the lightest bit. “I don’t know. You tell me, dimples.”
His knuckle taps under my chin, lifting it until I’m looking at him. “You’re asking if we’re hiding you.”
“Yes.”
His thumb strokes along my bottom lip. “I wish I could tell you that’s not what’s happening here, Ren, but I don’t want to lie to you. And the truth is I don’t know. I don’t know what the planis for the long term. But I do know that what we’ve been doing this week isn’t tenable. I know you need more than this.”
I swallow around the tightness in my throat. “Do you think this is what it would be like if I stayed?”
“Ifwestayed, you mean?” He smiles softly at the wide-eyed look I give him. “I meant it when I said I’m choosing you, Florence. I’m so grateful for the time you’ve given me with them, given them to get their heads out of their arses, but if that doesn’t happen… Whatever you decide, wherever you go, I’m with you.”
He kisses my slack mouth softly, lingering long enough for me to kiss him back. He sighs and tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. “I don’t know if this is what it would be like. We’ve never had a normal relationship. We spent so much time hiding what we were to each other, that it just became habit. And I don’t want that anymore. Not for me, and certainly not for you. So if it looks like this,” he motions around the apartment with one hand, “is the way it’s going to stay? We’ll leave.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.” He kisses me again, a sweet lingering thing that has my toes curling and my scent rising. “Now,” he says, turning me gently by my shoulders. “Go bother someone else so I can finish making you lunch.” He smacks my ass, making me yelp and glare at him as I rub the spot.
The grin he gives me is unrepentant and reminiscent of Courtland.
“Fine,” I grumble. “But you have to let me help at some point.”
“Says you,” he calls back as I move through the apartment. I poke my head into what has become my work room, taking in the stacks of fabric, the partially draped dress form. Really the fact that all of this has made it into this room in a week isimpressive, and I know a lot of it is because of the Ashbourne pack. Most of it, actually.
They’re trying to make this someplace I can stay, can live. But no matter how many sketch books or dress forms or boxes of fabric they bring me, no matter how many plush pillows and soft blankets wind up in my bedroom, it just doesn’t feel right.
With a sigh I abandon my workspace and continue down the hall, toward the only other pack member currently in the apartment.
Thayer looks up when I enter his makeshift study, a smile already on his face that lets me know he scented me before he saw me. That seems to happen a lot recently. I can’t seem to help it these days.
Being around my pack makes my omega incredibly happy… and incredibly horny. It's becoming a real problem.
“Killer.”
“Professor.” He leans back in his chair as I get closer to him, cock half hard and pressing against his zipper, thighs spread in invitation. It's one I take, perching myself sideways on his lap in a move that I wouldn’t have dared to do before we came here.
He lets out a slow breath as I settle, tension leaking out of his muscles, even as he pulls me closer, head dipping to take an inhale of my scent. “How are you feeling today?” he asks against my temple.
My fingers fidget with the buttons on his shirt, as I shrug. “Fine. Good. Just like I have been since you all came to get me.”
He hums like he’s not convinced. “You seem a little off today, though, love.” His tone is knowing. “You sure there isn’t something I can help you with? Any aches you need me to ease?”
Asshole knows exactly what's wrong with me. It's not as though I can hide it. Well, I could I suppose if I wanted to start taking my suppressants again, but my doctor warned about therisks of prolonged medicating, especially since I spent so much of my early years as an omega taking them to schedule my heats around ballet seasons.
She strongly recommended that if I was able to spend time with my fated mates, that I shouldn’t medicate myself.
So this is the result, the more comfortable I am with them, the more my body and scent signal it. I just wish Thayer wasn’t being such an ass about it. A gentleman would ignore my near-constant horny state.
“Nope,” I say, popping the p. “I’m fine. What are you working on?”
His hum tells me he knows I’m lying, but he’s not going to call me on it. “Nothing much, just getting my notes together for my lectures for when classes start up again in the fall.”
At the mention of it, of his future plans to still be here in a couple months’ time, intending to carry on with his life, makes any lust I’d been feeling dry up. I know my scent turns a little sour, tinged with my own bitter emotions.
“What just happened there, omega?” He asks, voice a low rasp. “What upset you?”
