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I check the clock, and I’m surprised to see it’s actually just before one, and we’ve been in here for hours.
“What do you want?” Voss asks, and his impatience makes me grin. I doubt he’s in a rush to get back to our book, so, clearly, he just wants me to himself again.
“Well, Nora has got her appointment with my dad soon, and Orson wants to get some food into you both before then,” Fin says. He smiles, and like Voss this morning, there’s no judgement when he adds, “I was just coming to check if you wanted food brought up, or if you were going to come down.”
“How are you feeling?” Voss asks, looking up at me with his sparkling jade eyes.
“Let’s go downstairs,” I say. Voss nods and gets up off my lap. Before I can even attempt to get out of bed, Griffin lifts me into his arms, and I let out a little shriek. He’s cradling me into his chest, and he’s purring lightly.
I’m not sure why I love this manhandling thing so much. Maybe it’s the closeness, and it’s coming from my wolf, maybe I’m lazy… whatever. I don’t think it needs examined.
He carries me downstairs and sets me on my feet in the dining room. I greet the others, getting kisses and cuddles as they’re shuffling around, helping set the table. As I take my seat, the other’s rush to follow, and it’s not long before a plate of food is thrust in front of me.
“Wait… what is this?” I ask, looking at the meat in dismay.
I sniff it, but all I can tell is that it’s not chicken.
“Venison,” Orson says, and I grin.
“I’ve not had deer in years,” I murmur, picking up a piece.
“Well, I’m grateful I’m not being forced to eat it,” Voss says, shaking his head in dismay. “Poor little prey. I feel for it deeply.”
“Didn’t I see you scranning a rabbit last night?” Fin asks, rolling his eyes.
“Didn’t I see you putting drops in your eyes this morning?” Voss counters without missing a beat. “I’d stop rolling those baby blues if you want to continue seeing.”
Mal snorts before smiling at me. “How are you feeling? A morning with doom and gloom over there—”
“It’s not her fault she’s so doomy and gloomy,” Voss quips, dodging a shove from Fin. I giggle, and Mal is torn between wanting to throttle Devoss and being happy that I wasn’t upset.
“I’m feeling a little better,” I say.
“Good,” Atticus murmurs, squeezing my knee under the table.
“After your therapy session, will you come somewhere with me?” Orson asks, and I blink in surprise, but nod eagerly.
“Where are we going?” Voss asks, smirking.
“Can someone please gut the fox?” Mal asks, glaring at him.
“Too afraid to do it yourself?” Voss replies.
Mal sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.
I smile, listening to them bickering causes some of the darkness within me to ebb away. I’m glad I came downstairs. Being around my mates, nurturing our bonds, helps.
Sometimes.
* * *
“Are you up for a walk?” Orson asks, spotting my red-rimmed eyes immediately as I slowly walk down the stairs. His lip curls up in a snarl, his anger causing his pupils to dilate, as he steps forward.
“I’m fine,” I say softly, but I’m not really sure it’s the truth.
My therapy session with George was a hard one. He took all the unfinished discussions from last time, arranged them in a nice little pile, before launching them at me one by one.
Asshole.
