Great. I should have looked at the caller ID.
“Hi, mom.” Everything in me deflates as I prepare for the onslaught. We’ve reached my car, and this time Caspian gets right in.
“Don’thi momme! First, you don’t return my calls, then I hear from Branson that you’re still moving forward with your doctorate. At least tell me you dropped thatridiculous thesis idea. The lost city of Ocearus is a myth, not a respectable academic pursuit.”
My mother would know. The woman has three doctorates and a Nobel Prize in literature. It’s a lot to live up to. Her expectations for me were never that high, but she’s made it very clear that there are only two acceptable paths for me to take. Either settle down with a respectable, intelligent, ideally wealthy pack. Or become so well renowned on my own that she can justify my unbonded status to her friends.
With the phone wedged between my shoulder and my ear, I circle around to the driver’s side and get in the car.
“Ocearus isn’t a myth, mom.”
Caspian perks up. I feel bad that he had to sit through that lecture—the worst Dr. Anderson has ever given—but I couldn’t leave him at home alone. The bond separation nearly made me sick when I went to get Thai last night.
“Hogwash! Even if it did exist, you’ll never find it. You’ll end up the laughing stock of the academic world like your aunt. I won’t have it. You’re coming to dinner with your father and I on Friday night, so we can talk some sense into you. Eight o’clock. Le Petit Palais. And don’t wear those scent blockers.” I can practically hear her nose wrinkling. “You know how your father hates not being able to scent someone.”
I sigh into the phone, but she’s already hung up.
“Sorry about that.” I toss my cell on the console between the seats and pull out of the parking lot.
“Would… you like to… talk about it?” His English has improved remarkably even since last night, but he still speaks slowly like he’s trying to come up with the right words.
“No. I really don’t want to talk. Let’s just go get you some proper clothes.”
The only things I have that would fit him are from my ex-pack, and there’s no way I want to see my mate in anything that touched those assholes. Which is why he’s wearing my clothes and looks absolutely ridiculous. I’m surprised Dr. Anderson didn’t comment on the getup. He definitely gave Caspian a condescending look.
Personally, I still think he looks hot. I don’t know how a guy like him can pull offleggings, but he’s making it work. I have to force my eyes away from the very noticeable bulge between his legs to focus on the road.
Caspian is quiet on the drive, and my mind feels like it’s playing a ping pong match. Thoughts of Caspian and my mom and my dissertation bouncing off each other as quickly as the car wheels spin. And then, there’s Dr. Anderson. What was with him this morning? He looked rough. I mean, the man’s always attractive, but he looked like he hadn’t slept a wink last night. I’ve never seen him so disheveled. And he’s definitely never gotten curt with a student before. I could practically feel the anger radiating off him when I asked if Caspian could sit in on the class. It’s not an unusual request, people audit classes or visit all the time. I could have taken some bond leave, but I don’t want to pause my research.
And last night when Dr. Anderson was upset about my supposed lack of suppressants? What gives him the right to act like that anyway? I wasn’t even sure the manlikedme much less cared about what went on in my personal life. He almost acted jealous, but that’s ridiculous. No matter how much I daydream about that man seeing me as an attractive woman worthy of being desired, it’s notgonna happen. He’s my professor. He doesn’t see me that way.
A large hand comes to rest on my thigh, jerking me back to the present. My knuckles are white with how hard I’m squeezing the steering wheel. I hadn’t noticed. Caspian is now looking at me, head tilted to the side like a curious puppy.
“Are you… okay?” Genuine care and concern flows through the bond, and my death grip loosens.
I sigh. “Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry.”
Luckily the next strip mall has the store we’re looking for, ABO Mart. It’s nothing special, just one of those big box stores, but it should have everything we need in one stop. Since Caspian has quite literally nothing, it’s what I can afford for now.
Pulling into the parking lot, I park as close to the entrance as I can. I don’t mind a little walk, but Caspian is still unsteady on his feet, and I’m not sure how he’ll do over longer distances. Shopping can be a marathon sometimes.
Once parked, I pop out of the car and go around to let my mate out of the other door. He hasn’t quite figured out that you need to pull the handleandpush simultaneously. His hand fits smoothly into mine and a sense of contentment fills me. Whether it's his or mine, I’m not sure. Possibly both.
We haven’t even done anything special. My ex-pack—if I can even call them that—never would have gone shopping with me for anything. They had other people to do that for them.
A tug on my arm has me looking back at Caspian, who’s frozen, looking at the automatic sliding door. Okay,yeah, if the car windows shocked him, I imagine this is ten times that. I push reassurance at him through the bond, and he tentatively follows me in.
This is where I usually shop, so it lost its luster a long time ago, but not for Caspian.
“Okay, let’s get you some new threads.” Caspian looks at me, confused. “Uh, new clothes,” I amend. “Like, pants and shirts and stuff that’ll fit you. Maybe some shoes that aren’t my too-small flip flops.” He follows my finger as I point to his nearly-bare feet.
Taking his hand again, I grab a cart and tug him toward the men’s section. I’m gonna guess he's a large, so I snag a few plain tee-shirts and shorts, then head to the dressing room. Luckily this isn’t one of those stores with an attendant so I find an open door and usher him in.
“Try these on to make sure they fit, please.” I hand him the clothing and step back. He looks confused for a moment or maybe hurt, but then grabs my arm and tugs me into the room with him before shutting the door.
“I want you here, starfish,” he says simply before pulling off his shirt.
I can’t help but ogle his lean, muscular chest. When my eyes lift back to his, I swear the air sparks around us. His gaze goes heavy lidded, pupils blown wide. Before I know what’s happening, I’m pressed against the mirror, his lips crashing to mine.
