By four-thirty, the Vesper thread is preserved, Dana has a clean export package ready for Baxter, Sloane has an internal timeline, and Marco has been told twice to go home before his Alpha starts calling the office. My phone stays facedown until I’m in the parking lot. Only then do I turn it over.
There’s no missed messages, some part of me wondering where Skylar is in all of this or if Emrys knows. The other part of me knows that Skylar already overstepped his duty as an officer and the confused look on his face as he left yesterday tells me everything I need to know.
Without meaning to, I stop by the store, grabbing some essentials out of habit. It’s become part of my routine, every few weeks, grabbing items I think Emrys would need and setting it outside his door in hopes it’ll bless him.
Some selfish part of me always wondered if it would become more as I took in everything I could about the doe-eyed Omega, including the ginger candies he once mentioned in the building chat when Mrs. Allen complained about motion sickness. By the time I reach our floor, the bags are cutting into my fingers, and his door has light under it. I tell myself I’ll set the groceries down, text him, and go to my own apartment. Then his door opens before I decide whether that lie is worth keeping.
Emrys stands there in a gray hoodie, sleeves pulled over his hands, his curls pressed to one side like he was just sleeping. His gaze drops to the bags and comes back to me. “You brought groceries.”
“Yes.”
“Were you going to knock?”
“No.”
His mouth trembles like it wants to smile before he takes one bag from my hand and steps back. “Come in anyway.”
I follow him in, set the bags on the counter, and barely have time to straighten before he crosses the kitchen and wraps both arms around my middle. His face presses into my chest. The first breath he takes against me shakes hard enough that I feel it in my ribs, and I get my arms around him slowly, one hand settling at the back of his head.
“Hi,” he whispers.
“Hi, Rys.”
He holds on until the last six days start to loosen in my body. When he finally pulls back, his face is red, and he wipes it with his sleeve before turning to the groceries. “I’m making dinner. You have to stay. I... you’re staying.”
I chuckle at the determination in his voice. I can tell he needs this, and I need to be able to take something from him without turning it into another kind of protection. So I sit at his small table while he cooks, and when he sets food in front of me, I eat. The meal is quiet, only forks scraping across porcelain and the soft movement of his chair when his knee brushes mine under the table and stays there.
The silence breaks when I gather my dishes to take to the sink. I twist to grab another when Emrys’ scent sharpens, the Omega already crying as he hits both hands against my chest.
“You were so stupid,” he says, voice breaking. “They put you in cuffs, and you just stood there. I kept telling them, and nobody listened.”
I catch his wrists before he can hurt himself and hold his hands against my chest. “If I fought, I would have given them the story they already wanted.”
His face crumples. “You were gone.”
“I’m here now.”
His eyes lift to mine, the redness in his eyes gutting me. Every reason for staying away, for keeping my distance vanishes as Emrys raises on his tiptoes and takes the one thing I’ve dreamt of giving him for months. His lips brush against mine before he starts to lower himself before I wrap a firm arm around his back and pull him back to me.
He gasps against my lips as I dominate the embrace, tasting every sweet bit of him, my tongue slowly slipping into his mouth. He answers me with a small moan as I lean him back against the counter, my free hand bracing against the surface.
He tastes every bit as sweet as I thought he would, maybe more.
My purr starts on its own rumbling through the both of us. Emrys shivers, and his scent warms bright enough that he pulls back, flushed and embarrassed. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” My voice comes out rough as I lower my head and run my nose along his cheek instead of kissing him again, scenting him lightly, letting the purr stay low in my chest. “You’re precious.”
His eyes close. “Don’t do that again.”
I know what he means. “I can’t promise that.”
“Kade.”
“I can promise I’ll try to be smarter.”
He looks like he wants to argue, but the tears have worn him thin. He steps back and wipes his face. “I’m going to change.”
I let him go and reach for my jacket because my apartment is on the other side of the wall, and if he wants me here, he has to ask. Then his scent sours from the bedroom. Worried, I rush after him to see that his nest seems to have exploded, if it can even be called that anymore. Blankets stacked wrong, cushions on the floor, hoodies abandoned where they fell. The closet door is open, a blanket inside with a cushion pushed against the wall.
