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“No, I’ll buy you a whole new wardrobe,” Everett insists, coming in close behind me and kissing my throat. His lips brush against my mark and I gasp out a breath. “I can’t promise I’ll never rip your clothes to shreds again, but I’ll always replace what I ruin.”
“That’s so romantic,” I tell him, giving him a wry smile when he lets me go. “We should probably tell Noah and Oscar what’s going on. Wait. Crap. I was supposed to be making them breakfast.”
“I’ll tell them,” he says. “You make breakfast.”
I hold out a free hand. “I can’t make oatmeal in the nude.”
He gets what I’m asking and removes the soft grey T-shirt from his sculpted upper body.
I snatch it out of his hand and pass him the ruined dress. “You can break the news to Noah.”
“Noah… Oh, right. It’s purple.”
I pull the shirt on. It barely covers my ass. I prefer his slightly longer shirts, but I’ll put on real clothes once I’ve made breakfast. I make enough for all four of us. Everett doesn’t usually eat in the morning but considering it’s now closer to lunch time I make a judgement call.
None of us are particularly keen on the mushy hot meal, but I have plenty of the magic salt that Noah got used to when I was bribing him to eat back when he wasn’t doing so great. He started asking for his own personal stash a while back. I couldn’t say no, but I did tell him not to use it for every meal.
It can be a little addictive if you overdo it.
He promised he was using it for one meal a day, and that was only so he could eat healthier foods without feeling like he was missing out on the junk he’d much rather be eating.
It’s ready and I’m debating which tray to use when my mates walk in, saving me the trip.
I can’t say I’m not thankful. I’m starting to feel the effects of being up all night and charging up my magic when I seriously needed to rest first. The first hint of the shakes is barely noticeable, so I ignore it.
“I assume everyone wants breakfast?” I ask, as I spoon the oatmeal out into bowls.
Everett’s put on another shirt, and someone convinced Oscar to get dressed. They pause beside me, and Everett screws up his nose when he looks into the pot.
“I could go for a big pile of bacon,” Everett says. “Not whatever that is.”
“Just wait,” Noah tells him. “It’s way better than you think.”
Noah shoots me a wink before he heads over to the table.
“And our mate made it, so you’d better eat it,” Oscar adds, laying on the guilt trip.
I can’t help smiling. After the awfulness of the last few hours, this feels normal and that’s all I really want. I think it’s all any of us want. “I promise you won’t hate it. Just sit down.”
Everett shakes his head before he resigns himself to his usual seat at the head of the table.
Oscar hugs me from behind, rubbing his head against mine a little, kind of like a cat.
“That command was meant for both of you,” I tell him.
“Command?” Everett asks, suddenly more alert and with a hint of a growl to his tone.
“Maybe Lunas are more dominant than Alphas,” Noah suggests, barely hiding his grin when Everett turns his warning stare his way.
I roll my eyes and start bringing the bowls to the table. It’s probably a little weird that we never use the dining room, but this is where Everett usually eats, so we’ve just never used it. The kitchen table feels way less formal. It’s more our style.
I serve Everett first. He pulls a face as he picks up his spoon.
“Don’t start yet,” I tell him. “There’s an added ingredient.”
Noah gets a dreamy look on his face when I put the bowl in front of him.
I know he loves the salt, and it reminds him of how we met, but I start to wonder if maybe this is addiction I’m looking at right now. I decide to speak to him about it later.
