Page 93 of Hidden Fates

Hot water soothes the tension from my muscles as I scrub my skin clean. My mind wanders, blissfully free of the darkness that usually plagues my thoughts. Is this an affect of my bond with Skye settling? Or is this temporary in the aftermath of a rut?

The door creaks open, sleepy footsteps shuffling in. They pause when they hear the shower running. “Caleb?” Bellamy asks, his voice unusually hesitant.

Well, that isn’t a great sign, is it?

“Yeah, it’s just me.”

The breath punches from his lungs and my worry grows. “Cool. I gotta piss then I’m going to make cereal. Want some?”

Pushing my wet hair away from my face, I make a noncommittal sound. “I can make us something real to eat.”

“Dude, not another cereal hater,” he groans. “It has tons of benefits. Fiber, carbs, calcium, protein. I don’t think a bowl of cereal at three in the morning is going to kill us when we survive on energy drinks during a tour.”

I mean he isn’t wrong. Caffeine is a lifeline for many bands, especially when they’re playing back to back shows and getting shit sleep in a tiny, smelly tour van.

“I have nothing against cereal.” Shutting off the water, I realize I didn’t grab a towel on my way in. Guess Bee’s getting a free show. “I don’t remember the last time I ate, so I need something substantial to get through the rest of this heat.”

The tiniest whimper slices through the room when I step out, steam billowing around me. I find Bellamy’s eyes hungrily roaming over my body as he pours a small mountain of soap onto his hands. Smirking, I take a towel from the shelf and wrap it around my waist.

“I’m gonna… I’ll see you downstairs.” He slips into Skye’s bedroom, the door thudding shut behind him.

There’s a basket of boxers sitting by the sink, all folded neatly and labeled in Quentin’s neat handwriting. Sometimes I question why he isn’t the pack leader with how thoughtful and persistent he is in taking care of all of us.

Foregoing anything else, I toss my towel in the laundry bin and head downstairs. My stomach pangs, growling loudly. A bowl of cereal waits for me, sitting beside Bellamy, who has parked his ass on the counter. “Thanks,” I mumble, shoving a spoonful in my mouth.

“So, I went into a rut. Obviously, Skye is fine. Was I a complete ass to anyone else?” I ask him as I open the fridge, silently thanking Quentin when it’s packed with easy heat meals.

He doesn’t answer right away, giving me time to set a few burritos inside the oven to warm.

Leaning against the counter opposite him, I raise one brow and dig back into my cereal.

“No one here is going to judge you for how you act in a rut. You haven’t had one in a while, right? So that’s like double points for getting away with being possessive or grumpy.” Bellamy rambles, spoon halfway to his mouth.

It’s so damn cute, it makes me want to kiss him.

“There is an issue though.” His eyes are locked on me, imploring me to understand what he’s saying.

I don’t get it though.

“Damn. Okay. You, uh, weren’t only interested in satisfying your rut with Skye.”

One blink, two, and then it finally sinks in. “Did we?”

Bee shakes his head. “Sterling helped redirect your attention to our Omega.”

Why does that disappoint me? It’s better that we have a chance to talk things out, and I’d rather be clear-minded if Bellamy and I take that step, but it still stings. On a primal level, like my inner Alpha is upset he didn’t get both his mates during the rut.

“Is that something you want?” I ask instead of admitting how I feel. Some thoughts are meant to stay in our heads.

“Duh. I can’t count the number of times I’ve jerked myself off imagining you bending me over the nearest surface and knotting me. Consent is important, and we’ve never talked about anything like that. I didn’t want to assume and cross a line you weren’t ready for.”

Taking his empty bowl from his hands, I set them in the sink. Framing him in is easy, his thighs slotting perfectly around my hips. My palms lay flat against the counter, our faces millimeters apart.

“I like you, Bee. A lot. I want to see where this thing between us goes. At whatever pace you want. Dates, kisses, sex. I want all of it. With Skye and with you.”

Not giving him a chance to respond, I push my lips to his, swallowing his groan. His hands scramble against my bare chest until they grip the sides of my neck, fingers teasing the baby hairs at the back of my skull.

The timer on the oven dings, pulling me back. I reach up and brush my thumb across his bottom lip, chuckling when he darts his tongue out to flick across it.