“You tried to look at my tattoos this morning.”
My face heats. “I did not.”
“You tugged the blanket down,” he counters gently. “You could have just turned on the light.”
“I was trying to let you have your beauty sleep,” I laugh.
He feigns offense. “Beauty sleep? I’ll have you know I wake up looking this good naturally.” He gestures at himself with complete sincerity.
He's not wrong. It's deeply annoying.
Behind the lenses of his glasses, his green eyes sparkle with humor. When I was in seventh grade I watchedGone with the Windand became obsessed with Scarlett O’Hara’s bright green eyes. I cursed my omega mother for giving me her boring hazel ones and begged for colored contacts. But now I’d rather look at my mate’s eyes every day than have them myself.
I run my index finger over the lines on his chest. “I need to inspect these.”
He doesn’t hesitate. He turns slowly, giving me a full view of the ink stretched across his shoulder and chest. Up close, the details are breathtaking. Equations and chemical structures weave throughvines and curling leaves. Mathematical symbols dissolve into blooming flowers. Harsh lines soften into organic curves.
“They’re incredible,” I breathe.
He shrugs, suddenly shy, and it undoes me a little. “I’ve always liked the balance. Logic and growth. Structure and life.”
I run my fingertips lightly along a line of script that dissolves into petals. “Beauty and intelligence. Like you.”
He cups my cheek. “You think I’m smart and sexy?”
“I absolutely do,” I say. “I also think you’re kind, gentle, caring, and funny.”
He tips my chin up until I'm looking at him fully, his expression soft. There is something about him that makes my omega settle. He’s sweet and warm. My gentle giant.
Falling for him would be dangerously easy.
It hasn't even been two days. My brain keeps pointing that out like it's going to change something. My omega stopped listening to that argument approximately thirty-six hours ago.
Scent-sensitive mates don't follow normal timelines. I grew up knowing that. I just never expected to feel it.
And honestly… who wouldn’t fall for Graham?
We have a simple breakfast of avocado toast and some left-over bacon and then head into the large office at the back of the house. Graham walks around the space, pointing out unique features.
“We added this on to the original structure when we bought the house. Between the addition and the workshop we had built for Silas’ business, it left us too little room for a pool.” He stops and looks at me seriously. “You don’t need a pool do you? Because we could—”
“I don’t need a pool,” I interrupt.
He looks so relieved his shoulders actually drop two inches. “Good. We have a membership to the local club. It has three pools,tennis courts, golf. All the stuff. But you can’t just walk out the back door and cool off on a hot day.”
“I’m not much on lounging in the sun, anyway. But tennis sounds fun. And golf. I haven’t played since my dad passed.”
“Then you’ll want to go with Saint. He’s the golfer in our pack. Plays all the time when the weather is decent. It’s been hard for him with his injured shoulder. He can’t do firefighting, golf—none of the things he likes to do. Except coffee. That one he can still do. He's been roasting his own beans for years. Won't shut up about it, honestly. It's the one thing that still lights him up."
“How did the three of you end up in a pack?” I ask. Partly because I’m interested. Partly because I don’t like the uncomfortable feelings I have when I think about golfing with Saint.
Graham pulls out a maple office chair for me and I sit. I recognize the sleek lines as being one of Silas’ designs. It tilts and spins, just like mine at the apartment, but is so much better.
“Silas and I have known each other since childhood. I got moved ahead a few grades. Hit middle school when other kids my age were still in fourth grade. I was tall for a ten-year-old, but not tall for sixth grade. That made me a target. Silas took care of me.”
Silas is a caretaker. He worries about Saint, me, and his sister. It makes total sense that he would have taken Graham under his wing.
“So you became instant friends?”
