Zeke sniggers.
Allen's lips twitch into a hint of a smile. "No." But his body is still tight with worry, his scent soured and bitter.
I let the back of my hand brush against his wrist. He closes his eyes. "If it were your body that was hurting," I murmur, keeping my voice low, "you would have told James already. And he'd be fussing over you, and you'd already be rolling your eyes at him."
James scoffs. I hear Zeke's amused mutter of "fair" from behind me, and Seb's quiet chuckle. Allen's head twitches in a tiny nod.
"And if it were only because you were worried about my safety or me wanting you, that worry would have gone by now." My voice is still quiet, but I can feel something unwinding in my chest as I talk.
"So that's telling me that whatever's bothering you is in your heart," I say, letting one hand rest lightly over his chest, "or your head." I let my other hand trail over the creases marring his brow and rest on his cheek. His eyes sink closed. I feel a slight weight of his head leaning into my palm.
His lips twitch. "Yes."
I frown as I study his face. The man looks like he's carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Or even just the weight of his little piece of it.
"Pack Alpha worries?"
He nods. "Yes."
I let my hands slide down his chest and drop to my side. He clenches his eyes shut.
Oh.
My body leans closer to him. I breathe him in, and stand on tiptoes as I turn towards his ear. "Are you worried there isn't a right choice? And it feels like it's on you if the wrong one's made?" I murmur into his ear.
He pulls himself straighter, as if posture alone can hold the choice in place. "Yes."
"I know that feeling," I sigh, and lean my body against his. A little purr rattles in my chest. He rests his cheek on the top of my head.
I don't know how long passes until I feel his head lift and his body soften, his scent mellow slightly. My purr peters out.
"Better?"
He shrugs.
"A little?"
He nods, looking almost ashamed. "Yes."
… why would he look ashamed? What does he have to feel guilty about—oh.
"… is part of it that you feel like you've let someone down?"
His eyes close. He looks like he's been slapped.
I pull him into my arms. His head sinks into my shoulder. His arms loosely fall around my waist.
"I'm sorry. I don't know how to fix this. Maybe I could help you hold it? Just for a little while?"
We stand there while I stroke his back and purr, my shoulder growing damp, surrounded by the men he loves.
"For what it's worth, you never let me down. Not in the ways that matter."
His breathing shudders. "I did." I can hear how hard he's fighting to keep his voice steady. "I should have realized how you would feel. I should have figured out how your sense of duty would—"
I pull away from him slightly. "How? We'd known each other for under twelve hours, and most of them, um…"
"We didn't exactly spend much time talking," James mutters.
