As the echoes fade, my mind clears.
IrememberI was going to check the pantry, but now I don’t know why it was so imperative to do so. I’ve already taken stock of the food three times. Looking again isn’t going to change anything.
Ah.
That’s right.
My thoughts were spiraling. I couldn’t stop them.
“I’m so sorry, Orion,” Hestia says.
I blink and focus on her face staring up at me.
“I didn’t mean to do that. Or I did. But I didn’t really mean to. I don’t want to take control of you, but it looked like you were wearing yourself out. I just wanted you to stop for a second and listen. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hiss at you,” she says, talking so fast she’s out of breath.
“It’s okay, Hestia. You were trying to help. I’m sure he understands,” Charm says.
“Just give him a minute,” Magnus says, stroking her hair to settle her.
Now I realize my packmates were pounding on our bond before Hestia cut through everything. They were just background noise, the buzzing of an insect I ignored. It feels like I have a mental bruise from wherethey pressed so hard trying to break through and help me.
Hestia’s hiss finally releases me, and my body goes lax. It was peaceful being in her grip, not allowed to do anything but what she tells me to.
I pull her into a hug, cutting off another apology.
After a moment, she hugs me back.
“Thank you for helping me. I couldn’t make myself stop, but you did,” I say into her hair.
“Are you sure you’re okay? I didn’t want to hiss at you, but you wouldn’t listen to anyone,” Hestia whines.
“Yes, your hiss was a relief. It didn’t hurt at all, and it was…comforting to have you take control,” I admit.
“Oh,” she exhales.
That may have been too much information to drop on her, but I don’t want her to think she upset me.
I rub her back, and my purr stutters out, surprising me. I can’t remember the last time I purred for anyone.
Hestia freezes and I think she’s going to push me away. A purr can be an intimate thing. But then she melts into me, body so limp that I’m basically holding her up.
I purr for her until her fruity scent is no longer tart and anxious.
I reluctantly release her, and she sways for a second before steadying.
“Feel better?” I ask, and she nods.
“Good. Your hiss is a gift that you use to help people, so I don’t want you feeling bad about it afterward,” I say.
She smiles bashfully and says, “Okay, I’ll do my best.”
“You don’t need to hiss to get me to do what you want,” Cato says, sliding up behind her.
Hestia rolls her eyes, but her face flushes and her candied fruit scent bloomsaround us.
I inhale deeply, tasting the warm, rich scent on my tongue.
Of course, there are no air filters in here, and our descenters must be wearing off.
