“Sorry. I was on the phone with Misery. Still in morbid humor mode.” It would make sense, now that there are more seats, for one of us to move away. We don’t, and Koen’s gaze stays on me, the platonic ideal of the concept of a scowl.
“Feel free to stop acting with reckless disregard for your life.”
“Aw. Thank you. Anything else I’m allowed to do,
Alpha?”
His hand comes up to snatch my chin. “You could be fucking good, for once.”
“I can try?” I smile. My lower lip pushes against his thumb. “Why didn’t you tell me immediately that you suspect that I might be a child of the cult?”
Slowly, keeping his eyes on my mouth, he lets go of me.
“Let me guess: because you didn’t want to needlessly upset me in case it didn’t turn out to be true.” I sprawl against the backrest. “Withholding information to avoid hurting people. Reminds me of something someone was recently criticized for doing- “
His palm slides to my neck. Tightens in a threatening curve at my nape.
I laugh, unfazed. “It’s okay, Koen. I forgive you.”
“Aw. Thank you,” he says, parroting me. But his expression is somber. “Remember your interview? Those people outside of the studio?”
“Not really. What- ” I gasp. “The man with the sign. Yelling something about . . . reborn flesh?”
He nods. “His talking points hit a little too close. I asked Amanda to track him, but it was Human territory, in the middle of a crowd. She couldn’t shift and she lost him.”
“I see. How many children were there in the cult?”
Koen presses his lips together, clearly worried, and my entire body hurts with how much I care for him. I would give a year of my life, a year I don’t even have, to press a kiss against the corner of his lips. Lower, where the stubble is quickly regrowing. I would do illegal, maybe even unethical things, in exchange for the right to bury my nose in the crook of his throat, where the scent of him is densest. “Several. A handful were Weres, and they were taken in by Northwest families. But Humans reproduce more easily, and over two dozen minors survived the cult. We partnered with Human services, kept tabs as much as we could, but we didn’t have access to their records.”
That’s how it went, then. Dozens of orphans, just like me. I wonder if they kept their memories. If we used to be friends. Where are they now?
This is too much. I can’t process it, not tonight. “I should go to sleep,” I say.
“Okay. Which room?”
“Um, mine?”
“Okay. We’ll sleep there.”
“We?”
“We.”
My eyebrow lifts. “Uh- oh. Celibacy Threat Alert.”
His look withers me, and every garden on the continent. “I’m going to stay in human form and monitor your temperature. We’ll catch your fevers early, and they won’t get as bad as they did last night.”
I open my mouth to say,
I don’t want to put you out. I can take care of myself. It’s fine.
But maybe it’s not. Maybe I can take care of myself, but I don’t mind some help. Maybe he wants to be put out.
Maybe this is equally for him and for me.
So what I settle on is “Thank you.” I let my head roll back on the cushion. Meet his shoulder. Don’t bother hiding the way I’m burying my nose in the soft, worn flannel. He doesn’t mind:
I can practically taste his satisfaction and relief at not having to fight me on this. It’s a sweet, joyful flavor against the roof of my mouth. “You know, your room might be better.”
“Why?”
“Comfier bed. Tub.” I blink a few times. Leave my eyes closed. “Smells like you.”
He grumbles something low that I can’t make out. Before I can ask him to repeat himself, I’m already sound asleep.
Well, fuck.
MY FIRST THOUGHT WHEN SOMEBODY SHAKES ME AWAKE IN the middle of the night is that Koen was right.
Which is not something I necessarily love to acknowledge.
“Come on, killer.” A large, calloused hand pushes back the damp strands of my hair. The touch is warm and firm, should probably feel like too much, but I don’t mind it at all. In fact, when it moves away, I let out a small whimper. “Bath’s ready.”
I make myself murmur something unintelligible that’s half exhaustion, half gratitude. Opening my eyes takes more effort than a graduate degree. I wait for my body to inform me that yes, a lawn mower did just finish joyriding all over us and we do feel like utter shit, as per our regular programming.
Except, we don’t.
Yup. Koen really was right. Watch me drown myself in the tub to avoid admitting it.
I sit up slowly, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. “C’mere,” Koen tells me.
His arms close around me and carry me into the bathroom. He’s bare-chested, wearing gray sweats and nothing else- ready for skinny dipping. He sets me on the bathroom counter and pulls my leggings down my thighs, somehow managing not to touch me in a single inappropriate spot. He leaves my T- shirt on. Then he picks me up again and slowly lowers me into the tub. My toe brushes against the surface, and-
“No,” I say.
It’s a soft command, but Koen stops without hesitation.
“It’s too cold,” I explain calmly. Because I feel so calm right now. Why am I usually so full of doubt? I know what I need. I know how to get it. Always have. “I don’t want to be cold.”
Koen misunderstands. Gently sets me back on the counter. “Let me add some warm water to- “
“No,” I repeat, jumping to my feet. I feel weird. Like I’m both speaking and observing myself speak. Awake, but sleeping. The best part is, I’m not just not in pain. I’m actually . . .
I feel . . .
I feel fucking amazing. And I think I . . .
I step toward Koen, drawn by his heat, the texture of skin, his phenomenal scent. I don’t need cold water, because I have him. I didn’t know anyone could be so perfect, but here we are. I want to touch him, so much so, I’m not sure it’s allowed. There has to be a limit to how much we crave. Can’t approach infinity, or it’ll stretch us too thin.
I move closer and closer. The cotton of my shirt abrades my hard nipples all wrong, so I yank it off and toss it as far as I can. It lands in the tub, and I swallow a smile.
Oops.
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