She nodded, and he repeated swishing the water around in all three cups before discarding it.
From the tin, she scooped two large spoonfuls of fragrant leaves into the pot and raised it to her nose. She took a deepbreath and smiled. “Jasmine. It was my mother’s favorite. Every time I make it, every time I smell it, it’s like she’s still with me. Still here.”
Pierre would buy her jasmine tea every day—hell, he’d buy the damn company—to see that expression on her face again and again.
Melinda ran the tap until she liked the temperature, then covered the leaves with water. “You don’t want to shock the leaves by hitting them with boiling water,” she said, the wistfulness gone from her voice. “This way, you release their full flavor by gradually exposing them to heat. It stops the tea from tasting bitter. See.” She pointed into the pot, and they both leaned forward to peer in. “The leaves are unfurling.”
That she didn’t back away with them both so close, Pierre counted as a win. A step in the right direction.
“Then you rotate the pot to aid the infusion.” She gently turned the pot twice. “Now we can add the boiling water.”
As she talked, as the tea steeped, the subtle hint of jasmine in the air, her shoulders loosened. He shared a look with his twin. It had been a good idea to make the tea.
She poured them each a cup. Pierre was more of a coffee person, but he would drink a cup of hydrochloric acid right now if it made her happy.
Cradling hers, she backed away, putting space between them, and leaned against the cupboards. The wariness was still in her eyes, but the horror was gone. She opened her mouth to speak, but sipped on her tea instead.
“Ask your questions, Melinda.” They would answer them. To the best of their ability.
“Would you ever have told me?”
“Yes,” they both replied in unison.
“But…you barely know me.”
Louis chuckled. “Chouquette, I think we know you quite well.”
Pierre scowled at him. He wanted to punch his twin right now. Theydidknow her well. They knew almost everything about her. From their deep dive into her past and from the security feeds. Hell, they knew what brand of toothpaste she used.
“Are you forgetting that time in Pierre’s bedroom?” Louis ran his gaze down her body, mischief sparkling in his eyes. “Or on the plane?”
A pretty flush spread across her neck and cheeks. She frowned into her cup of tea. “Why would your brother say you would have died for me today?” She pinned him with her stare.
Putain.Right to the heart of things. Their little cipher mate was smart. And bold. He liked it, but was she ready to hear she was their mate?
Pierre set his cup on the counter and moved toward her. She stiffened, but didn’t run. “Melinda,” he said, shaking his head a little. “You feel thispassionbetween us,non?”
Her breath hitched a little and her heart beat a little faster, but not from fear.
“More thanpassion.” He sidled closer, dropping his voice. “A connection.” He reached out, taking the cup from her hands, setting it aside and placing her palm on his chest. “We feel it, too. And we want to explore it, as far as it will take us.”
Louis skirted the counter, and they crowded her against the bench.
His twin ran a gentle hand down her cheek. “We’re werewolves, Melinda. That’s who we are.”
Pierre nuzzled her neck, and she dropped her head back, granting him better access. “And if we’re going to go all the way with this, you’d need to know.”
“All the way,” reiterated Louis.
Her body softened. “All the way,” she whispered.
He slipped her hands around his neck, cupped her ass, and she wrapped her legs around his hips. “Oui.”
Louis pressed against her from behind.
She shivered, her thighs clenching against his hips. “Oui.”
His wolf wanted to howl his triumph. It prowled in his mind, urging him to bite, mark, claim and turn her. Now.Non.He forced it down. They must tread softly. Tonight was for gentleness, wooing, worshiping. Easing her fears. Not the rough, urgent rutting of a turning.
