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Orson even offered to let Mal beat him up, but I think that was a joke. I can’t imagine my bear shifter mate allowing Mal to get the drop on him, not with knowing how badly Mal wants to be second in the pride.
Voss has gone out to chase a lead, which is a bit worrying considering everything that has happened today. But I think that’s just me projecting. Voss is familiar with the darkness, and he’s been pretty much business as usual since the attempt.
He’s been the one least affected—which could just be a front, so I will check—and he’s been a steady support for me.
It’s after 10, so prime time for Voss’s work, and, as the earliest sleeper of the group, Fin has headed up to bed already. He’s exhausted, and, honestly, I think he wants some time to himself.
I don’t blame him, and I’m pleased he communicated that need to me.
Micah and I are in the kitchen. I had a cup of tea, courtesy of Orson, after dinner whilst Micah cleaned up. I truly tried to help, but I was shot down, and, instead, I’ve sat keeping Micah company. Not that I’ve been good company, too lost in my own thoughts.
I do think it’s settled his tiger having me in his vision, though.
Which leaves Atticus. My lion mate who is not acting like himself and can barely stand to be around me. It’s my own fault, I know. I don’t know if it’s worth giving him the night to himself, or if I should go and break down the door and demand to know what’s happening. But then, do I even have the right to ask those kinds of questions?
Do I have the right to make him talk about what is happening before he’s ready?
He clearly didn’t want to talk in front of everyone else, but should I try and approach him when he’s alone? Try and talk?
“What’s wrong?” Micah asks, kissing my shoulder again. There’s a warmness where he pulls away, and I smile up at him. It’s so easy here with Micah, something I don’t deserve, but something I’m taking anyway.
Easy is hard to come by.
“I’m just worried about Atty,” I say, and Micah nods, an understanding look filling his face. His features soften, and he gently rubs my lower back. More just letting me know he’s here than anything else.
“How about you go and try to grab Atticus, and the three of us can have a bath together?” he offers.
I grin because that sounds amazing. That way, there’s no pressure to talk. We’re just there, soaking up each other’s company and relaxing together, and if someone speaks, well… it’ll be good.
“I even have a present,” Micah says, winking at me.
“What is it?” I ask, glee filling my tone. I’m not sure why I’m so excited over a present.
Maybe because I’ve never really been given one.
He smirks and gestures for me to run along. It seems my tiger mate wants to keep this a surprise.
Who am I to deny him the fun?
So, I do as I’m told and jog up the stairs, holding my side because I’ve got a stitch. I try to slow my breathing to disguise how unfit I am, and I pray that as my wolf and I continue to bond, she’ll gift me some fucking stamina.
Because I really don’t want to have to start doing some cardio to improve my endurance.
Have you ever seen a fat wolf shifter? No? Well, if I don’t improve my fitness, my new-found appetite might make me the first.
I slowly walk along the corridor and knock on Atticus’s bedroom door. As expected, he wasn’t there, but I wanted to at least try. I’d have hoped he went to bed rather than go stew in his office… I was most definitely wrong.
I close the door and walk along to his office, my breathing back to normal by the time I arrive. I knock, and he doesn’t shout to come in, but I can feel him on the other side of the door.
Insulting my feelings again—because if I can feel him, he can feel me.
With a shrug, I gently push the door open and peek my head around the corner. In my defence, he didn’t shout to go away, so even deep down he wanted to see me. He might be denying it, wallowed too deep in his hurt, but that doesn’t make it any less true.
I see him sitting in his desk chair, a bottle of something brown—scotch, probably, but I can’t see the label from here—open, with some poured into a small glass. It looks untouched, but maybe he’s already had a drink.
He’s not facing me, though, and I can only see the tips of his ears, and some of his dirty blonde hair from where I’m standing. I creep into the room, feeling like an intruder, as the uncomfortable atmosphere increases.
“Atty,” I call, but he doesn’t react. I continue walking around the desk and stop in front of him. He’s got a dazed look in his eyes, but as soon as he focuses on me, that sharpens completely.
