Somewhere beneath the warm weight of Aubrey, my stomach twists hard.
Real hunger this time.
Lightheadedness blurs the edges of things, makes the colors in the duvet swim when I move my eyes.
The few spoons of soup must have reminded my body what food is. Now it wants more, urgently, and I feel the same shift in Aubrey. His breath has changed against my collarbone. His swallow is dry. We're starving. We’re both starving, but neither of us moves.
“We can stay. Under here. A little longer,” he says.
I want to. God, I want to. I want to burrow deeper into this cocoon we've made and pretend the rest of the world doesn't exist. Pretend there aren't four Alphas downstairs waiting for us to emerge. Pretend my body isn't a traitor that responds to their scents.
“You need to eat,” I say.
His brows quirk. “And so do you.”
“I’d rather have another orgasm,” I say.
His mouth curves and his whole face changes with it. “That’s an incentive after food. Come on. We have to face them sometime.” His voice is still rough, but I love how he’s talking now. Freely. At least, he is to me.
“What about…” I gesture to my pants, which are now dry but the scent of our release is unmistakable.
“They’ll already know about that too,” he says and I guess that’s true. He kisses my lips. “Believe me, they’re alphas. They know exactly what we’ve done. Food before orgasms, and then fresh clothes.”
I try to ignore my flaming cheeks as Aubrey draws the duvet off us and we sit. Dizziness hits. I guess he’s right. We do need to eat. His hand finds mine and squeezes, steadying me. I squeeze back, steadying him and we make our way to the bedroom door. I open it.
Lex is on his feet before the door is halfway open, his body unfolding from wherever he was sitting. Guilt prickles through me. Dark circles bruise the skin under his eyes, deep enough to cast shadows. His jaw is tight with exhaustion, his hair mussed like he's been running his fingers through it. He hasn't slept. That's obvious. He's been awake all night, sitting outside our door, and he looks like he's been through a war.
“Hey.” His voice comes out rough. “You're... are you okay?”
His hand goes to his hair, pushing through it again, and he mutters “stupid question” under his breath.
“Of course you're not okay. I just.” He takes a breath, pulling himself together. “Do you need anything? Water? Food? There's food downstairs. We have... Ezra made things. Smoothies. Things that won't be too heavy on your stomachs. If you're hungry. Or even if you're not, you should probably eat something, both of you should, your bodies need...”
He trails off, realizing he's rambling. His scent shifts, embarrassment threading through the Earl Grey, and he shoves his hands in his pockets.
I remember his hands in my hair. The bath. The way he worked the shampoo through my curls, careful, patient. The purr that rolled out of his chest and vibrated through my bones, making my shoulders drop. He expected nothing from me. Asked for nothing. Touched me like I was precious and then let me go.
My nerves are still shot, but Aubrey is right. We can't hide under that duvet forever. And these alphas… weknowthey aren’t like the others. Lex took over from Ezra, and whoever else had been there, and stayed. They’re looking after us the best they know how.
“Um. Breakfast would be good,” I say.
“Espie needs to eat,” Aubrey says.
Lex's eyes flare at Aubrey’s words.
“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “Yeah, okay. Kitchen's downstairs. I can... I'll show you. Or. I'll just.” He gestures vaguely toward the hallway and the stairs beyond. “I'll be right behind you. If you need anything. I won't. I'm not going to...”
He gives up trying to finish the sentence and steps aside, leaving the doorway clear.
We step out together. Aubrey's hand clamps on mine, our fingers laced. The hallway opens up around us, doors leading to rooms I hadn’t noticed on our way up here. More alpha scent here, layers of it soaking into the walls, into the carpet, into every breath. The house is bigger than I realized.
The stairs stretch down ahead of us. Two floors between us and the kitchen. Two floors of descent with legs that don't want to hold us up.
“You can do it,” Aubrey whispers to me.
“Take your time.” Lex's voice comes from behind us. Close enough to catch us if we fall, far enough not to crowd. “No rush. I've got you if you need me. And when we get down, I’m making enquiries into installing a lift.”
I peer up at him, looking for the joke, but he’s serious. He really will do that for us. I have to concentrate on walking though. The muscles in my legs tremble with each step, weakness I've been ignoring made brutally obvious by stairs. Aubrey's breathing goes shallow beside me, his grip on the bannister white-knuckled. We lean on each other, on the railings, on sheer stubbornness.
