Page 88 of Pack Baby for the Silver Foxes

I touched her chin with two fingers and turned her gently toward me.

Her skin was cool from the car, softer than I remembered and exactly as dangerous. Her blue eyes moved over my face, first to my eyes, then to my mouth, then back again as if she hadn’t meant to be caught looking.

I caught her anyway.

“You don’t need to apologize for someone else’s wound,” I said.

“I know.”

“Do you?”

“Not really,” she whispered.

My thumb brushed the side of her jaw. Her scent opened, violet and blackberry warming beneath the rain thread that tied all three of us together.

“Mary.”

“If you’re about to tell me I can’t replace Damien’s mum, don’t because that’ll make me cry.”

Lincoln made a quiet sound that might have been a laugh if he hadn’t been holding his breath.

“I don’t want you to cry,” I said. “I want to kiss you.”

“Oh!” Her gaze dropped to my mouth again and the air inside the car changed.

This wasn’t heat, or pain, or biology dragging her through a door she couldn’t close. This was Mary, fully herself, frightened and wanting and present.

“Can I?” I leaned in slowly.

“Yes.” She met me halfway.

The kiss was soft for one heartbeat.

Then she made a sound, small and startled, and her hand came up to my wrist as if she needed to hold herself steady. I kept my fingers gentle on her jaw. No claiming, no taking more than she wanted to give. Only the press of her mouth, the tremble of her breath, and the sweet shock of her choosing me without the heat getting in the way.

Lincoln’s scent deepened beside her.

I broke the kiss before I jumped over the seat and kissed her until she couldn’t breathe.

Mary’s eyes opened slowly. She looked dazed. Then she blinked. “Well that was nice.”

Lincoln smiled. “That’s your assessment?” he asked.

Mary touched her mouth with her fingertips. “I’m compiling further notes. I’ll present you with my thesis later.”

“Thorough of you,” I said.

“I’m a business student.”

“Of course.” I turned and started the car again.

Mary didn’t move away from Lincoln this time. Not much. Her shoulder brushed his sleeve as we pulled back onto the road. He didn’t make a sound, which was heroic, under the circumstances.

The Surrey Omega Health Clinic sat behind a private medical center with too much glass and a parking lot full of expensive vehicles. Mary grew quieter as we walked inside.

The waiting room smelled of disinfectant, and the faint sweetness of omega-safe calming diffusers. Pale wood chairs lined the walls. A woman with a sleeping baby sat near the window. And a beta nurse moved behind reception, speaking softly into a headset.

Mary stopped just inside the doorway. Lincoln moved beside her, not touching, but close.