I exhale, sinking into her arms. The tension in my shoulders melts the moment I inhale the scent of her—lush peonies and musk. It threads through me, calm and soft, the edges of the day dulling under it.
She tilts her head back, chin resting against my chest, eyes wide and sincere. “I’m sorry about your chair,” she says quietly.
I glance down at her, fighting a smile. “You’re forgiven,” I murmur, brushing a thumb along her jaw.
Her eyes soften, and the faintest frown tugs at her mouth. “I’m also sorry you had a rough day,” she murmurs.
That makes me blink. “Rough day?” I echo, brow furrowing. “My day was fine.”
She looks up at me with those soft brown eyes like she doesn’t quite believe me. “You know we share a bond,” she says softly, her voice all warmth and worry. “I can feel you even when you’re at work.”
I huff a quiet laugh. “I didn’t think it was stressful at all. Maybe a little tedious, but for the most part it was easy.”
Skyla frowns, studying me with that careful, searching look that makes my chest ache. Her fingers trace the hem of my shirt, like she’s trying to smooth the day off me one soft touch at a time.
I catch her hand, bringing it to my lips for a second. “You don’t have to worry about me,” I whisper against her knuckles. “I’m good, Sky. Really.”
Her shoulders relax a little, but not completely. “You always say that.”
I glance down at her, a small smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. “Yeah,” I admit quietly. “Because it’s true.”
Her bond hums soft and warm against mine—skeptical, but comforted—and I let it wash over me, grounding us both.
I pull my omega in closer, one hand sliding slowly down the full length of her spine. I feel each soft curve under my palm until it settles at the small of her back. Sky melts into me, her face pressing against my chest, her arms looped tight around my waist.
For a moment, I hold her there. My other hand rises to cradle the back of her head, fingers threading into her soft curls, keeping her close as I breathe her in.
The front door clicks open somewhere down the hall. Heavy footsteps, then the soft thud of boots being toed off. Skyla’s head snaps up, her entire face lighting up like someone flipped a switch inside her. That quiet, lingering worry vanishes in an instant.
Before I can blink, she wraps her arms around my neck, rising onto her toes. Her lips brush mine in a soft kiss that leaves the faintest hum of sweetness in our bond.
Then she pulls back, eyes bright. “Tadeo’s home!” And she’s gone—bare feet padding fast down the hall.
I stand there for a beat, watching her disappear around the corner, the scent of peonies still clinging to the air.
Then I hear her laugh—light, happy, unguarded—and Tadeo’s deeper voice answering. I feel so much better now that we’re all home.
The phone in my pocket buzzes as I start toward the kitchen. I pull it out and glance at the screen.
Robert.
Skyla’s dad.
My stomach sinks a little before I open the message.Normally, they text Dakota so that Sky and her mom can talk.
Knox. I’d like to talk.
I frown, rubbing the back of my neck. The last thing I want tonight is a tense conversation about boundaries or expectations. All I want is to sit in the kitchen, drink a beer, and watch my pack make dinner together.
Still, I can’t ignore him.
My thumbs move before I can talk myself out of it.
Everything okay? We’re about to start dinner.
The reply comes fast.
It’s not an emergency. Call me tomorrow when you have a minute.
