“I…what?—”
“I have a checklist saved in my phone,” Ivan interrupts, grinning. “If you want to go through every possible argument for not staying here.”
I place my head in my hands. “You are an unlimited well of patience.”
“Patience is my middle name, sweetheart. Now lie back down.”
There’s the smallest bit of command in his voice, subtle enough that I could push back if I wanted to.
I choose not to.
I burrow back under the blankets, but keep my arms out, extending my hands. On my left, Ivan laces our fingers together, and on my right, Fang does the same.
Rumbles fill the air, and I realize they’re both purring for me at the same time.
I’ve never experienced a double purr before, but it may be the closest to true peace I’ve ever felt.
Leather and apple aromas mix together, and it’s delicious and mouthwatering.
But there’s a certain scent missing, an Alpha I haven’t asked about yet.
I’ve been too lost in Ivan and Fang, desperate to be knotted.
Now that I have a few moments of clarity back, I can voice what’s missing.
My inner Omega longs for the bourbon-soaked vanilla essence that isLogan.
“He’s been waiting on you,” Ivan says, as if reading my mind. “Waiting for permission to see you.”
Oh.
“Of course he can see me,” I murmur. The longer I focus on that scent, the richer the aroma grows, and the stronger ache in my heart. “Why would he think he couldn’t?”
“All of this is unexpected,” Ivan reminds me. “And he’s not the best socially when somethingisplanned.”
“The guy is terrified of fucking something up with you,” Fang shrugs. “He’s scared.”
I frown. “Are you scared?” I ask, noticing a flicker in his expression.
His eyes soften, and he swallows. “Fuck, yeah, I am,” he laughs softly. “I’m really fucking scared, baby.”
I blink in surprise, then focus on the ink that runs down his neck and stains his chest and abs. I trace the patterns with my finger, stopping when I see a familiar image near his heart.
“That’s a kitten,” I murmur.
“It’s a baby Eevie,” he says softly. “The best picture I ever took of her.”
I smile softly. “So, I’m in bed with a big bad Alpha named Fang that’s covered in tattoos of cats and scared of his scent match?”
He grins, then grabs my finger and pretends to bite it. “Pretty much. You’ve got your work cut out for you.”
A subtle cramp aches in my womb, and I let out a small hiss.
The purring stops, and both Alphas sit up, concerned.
“Sweetheart?” Ivan asks. “What do you need?”
Bourbon. Vanilla.
