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“Hi,” he says, imitating me. But when I don’t speak, he raises an eyebrow. “Griffin was first because he was here?”
“That’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean to cheapen what we did,” I say, and he nods slowly.
“I understand. So, when is it my turn?”
“I have no idea.” I say, biting my lip. “What are you doing this week?”
“Well, I did have nothing really planned, other than my normal activities. But now I heard that you guys are going to the pack, so I know you’re busy,” he says, and I groan but nod.
“Well, I want my date as soon as you’re back,” he says, and I smile. I get a little rush of endorphins. “Okay. I can do that.”
“Good,” he replies. “Now, come over here. I’ve missed you.”
I don’t walk. Instead, I rush over to him, and jump as soon as I’m in reach. He might be slim, but he’s 6’0” and has shifter strength and is easily able to catch me. He lifts me into his arms, and I wrap my legs around his waist.
This wouldn’t work with any of the others, not as easy as it is with Voss due to his thin frame, and I instantly press my lips to his.
Now that the small disagreement is out of the way, I’m just so happy to be home and here in his arms.
There’s a loud beep of a horn, and Voss groans, turning me so I don’t have to see Malachi getting out of his car. He’s the only one who would beep that rudely.
Voss walks us into the house, continuing to kiss me as we go, and it’s only when there is more coughing from the inside that he puts me down.
He’s not happy about it, though.
“Hi,” I say, blushing as I look around at Orson and Atticus. They’re spread out in the living room, papers everywhere, and they both have their laptops.
Orson’s in his favourite armchair, and Atticus is taking up the two-seater just to the left of him.
Their coffee mugs are empty, which is surprising since Orson normally refills those before they get to that point.
“Where is Fin?” Orson asks, raising an eyebrow at me.
“He shifted,” I say, and Orson frowns. “Once we got back, and I was with Voss,” I hastily tack on the end. His anger fades.
“Oh, okay,” Orson replies. “Did you have a good time?”
I nod, but catch sight of Atticus rubbing at his eyes from the corner of my eye. The messy hair, the rumpled suit, and the tension he’s carrying makes me think he’s a little stressed.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Of course I am, little queen. I’m just working on plans for our trip.”
I frown and go to reassure him that we don’t need to go when Orson snaps instead.
“What he means is that he’s just cutting us out,” Orson says. His tone might just be deadpan, but his face, that fake smile, the tightness around his eyes. He’s pissed.
“Who is getting cut out?” Mal asks, coming into the room and sitting down opposite Atticus.
“Us,” Orson says. But that doesn’t really narrow it down. Us as in him and Malachi? “Atticus is going to the pack with Nora.”
“As we expected,” Mal says.
“Who else is going?” I ask, and when everyone falls silent, I realise that’s where the issue lies.
Atticus obviously wants Orson here running the pride whilst we are gone, and Mal is an awesome second.
And I understand that. I fully expected not having either of them with me this weekend.
