He looks like an omega. Lithe and ethereal and gorgeous, and I belong to him, and he belongs to me, and the bond hums warm and bright behind my ribs. It’s everything.He’severything.
My whole body hums with the need for him. His eyes are bright with mischief I haven't seen from him before. He's enjoying this. He's enjoying me looking at him.
“You're staring.”
“I am.”
“At what.”
“You.” I swallow. “Just you.”
His hands find my waist through the soft wool of the jumper, and the warmth of his palms burns through the fabric. He bends his head and kisses me. I want to rip the sweater off. I want to rip the Henley off him. I want to drag him back across the room to the nest and stay there until neither of us can move. The slick between my thighs grows thicker and I press myself against him, my hands sliding up under the back of his shirt, finding warm skin.
He pulls back. His forehead rests against mine. “If we don't go downstairs now,” he murmurs, “we're not going downstairs at all.”
A laugh shakes out of me. “That's a problem?”
“It is. There's food. You're hungry. We're both hungry.”
As if to make his point, cooking smells drift up from downstairs. Garlic. Onion. Something rich sizzling in a pan. Butter, maybe. My mouth waters. My stomach growls, demanding attention.
He's watching me, reading my face. “If you don't want to go down there, I'm sure one of them will bring something up to us.”
“I want to eat something that isn't toast,” I admit. “And I want to sit at a table while I do it. Like a person. I haven't done that in... I don't know how long. Years, maybe. Is that stupid?”
“It's not stupid.” He reaches for my hand, threads his fingers through mine. “It's human. I want it too.”
He's quiet for a long moment, his thumb tracing circles on my palm. I study his face, waiting, giving him the space to find his own answer.
“They never stopped trying. At the OHC. Even when I gave them nothing back. Even when I was...” He shakes his head. “I don't want to be like that anymore. And I won’t. Because of you. Thank you, Espie. For everything.” He lifts our joined hands, presses a kiss to my knuckles. “Shall we go down?”
“Okay.” I squeeze his hand. If he can do this, I can do this.
We walk down the stairs hand in hand. The cooking smells grow stronger with every step. My hair is still wet at the ends, dampening the collar of the jumper. The bite on my throat throbs with every heartbeat, in a good kind of hurt. Aubrey's thumb moves slow and steady against my wrist, and the bond hums underneath my skin, a low warm note I feel in my sternum.
We pad down the stairs, turn to the kitchen and pause in the doorway as all four alphas turns to pin us with their gaze.
Chapter Twenty-One
Espie
The hallway behind us is dim when we stop at the threshold.
The kitchen beyond glows warm.
Lamplight pools across the table, and the pendant over the sink throws gold over the tiles. Beyond the window, the garden is sinking into dusk, the horizon bruised purple-blue.
The room smells of butter and garlic and something rich simmering beneath it. Gas hisses softly under Ezra's pot.
Aubrey's grip locks. His hesitation flares before it shows on his face. The bond's only hours old and yet his emotions are a bright star. He looks down at me, checking, and I lean into him, gripping his bicep with my free hand. Our scents have layered. Clover. Gardenia. A depth underneath that wasn't there before. There is no beginning nor end between him and me anymore, and I can’t find it within myself to care.
Ezra stands at the stove, stirring something that pulls saliva into my mouth. Garlic. Herbs. His dark eyes find us, and his nostrils flare. His whole body goes still. The spoon stops moving in the pot. He draws in another breath, slow, deliberate. His lips quirk and there’s heat in his gaze. Heat and need and longing.
I perfume. Just a little, because thatlook…
He shakes his head as though throwing off a thought. One short jerk. Sends a knowing look across the kitchen at Lex, at Kev, at Sera. Their nostrils flare too. They're scenting us, knowing what Aubrey and I have become to each other.
Aubrey's pulse jumps where our wrists press together. Then his clover lifts beside me. He's perfuming too. Reacting to my reacting. The bond tugs. His. Mine. His. Mine.
