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“Maybe we need a rotation for this,” Griffin says as he gets off the bench to start helping.
“What do you mean?” Orson asks, seeming worried they’re going to try and steal the cooking aspect of family dinners from him.
“Well, maybe on Mondays, I set the table. On Tuesdays, Kai does it. On Wednesdays, Kai does it. On Thursdays, Kai—”
“Fuck off,” Malachi snaps, throwing the cutlery down on the table with a heavy clutter. “Set the rest of it yourself, gammy eyes.”
“My eyes are not gammy!” Griffin snaps, but when he turns a pleading look to me, I can’t support him. “I’ll prove it tomorrow, and you’ll all owe me a damn apology.”
“Sure,” Atticus drawls. Mal steals Micah’s seat next to me, and the younger tiger brother pouts but sits opposite me with Voss.
Orson’s also pouting, since neither Mal or Atticus offer to move, and it means he can’t be near me.
Fin’s pout isn’t because he can’t sit with me, but because he’s in a huff.
“What’s that look for?” Voss asks.
“It’s nice not to be the one pouting,” I say with a giggle.
“I’m not pouting,” Atty says, and I look up at him with a raised brow. His face falls, and he quickly ducks his head. “Anymore.”
“Weak as fuck,” Mal murmurs, taunting his Alpha.
“So, how was therapy, baby girl?” Fin asks, passing me some buttered bread.
“Good,” I say slowly. “I was given homework.”
“Anything we can help with?” Orson asks.
“No,” I say before sighing at my lie. “Yes. I need to be admitted into the pride.”
“Shit,” Atticus says with a sigh. “We had that as a plan… and just never did it.”
I shrug. “I know.”
“We’ll get that sorted,” he reassures me.
“Anything else?” Fin asks, and I slowly shake my head. “Oh. I was over there earlier, and my dad gave me a prescription—”
“No!” Malachi snaps, turning to me in horror.
I move into his lap, without realising I even had the thought to move, and he wraps his arms around me. He inhales deeply, burying his head in my neck, and I purr softly, providing comfort to both him and his tiger.
My wolf knew he needed me, and I just… reacted.
As a mate should.
“They’re to give to Atty,” I soothe, glancing around the table, noting the varying expressions of panic. “I’m not even sure if I want them, but he wants me to try anyway.”
Micah nods, accepting that, and both Griffin and Voss seem fine about it. Orson is tense, and I can’t get a read on Atticus.
“What is stopping you from taking them?” Atticus asks. “I thought it was to keep your wolf drained, but you’re together now.”
“No, you’re right. That was a big part of why I didn’t take them at first.”
“So, why now?”
“I don’t like how they make me feel,” I reply, stroking Mal’s hair since he’s still hiding in my neck. “I took them when I first started working with the therapist, and they were… they make me feel groggy, I lose control, and I just hated how they made me feel.”
