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The fuck?
Atlas never does the touchy-feely omega shit. His foreplay and aftercare are solid A’s, but outside the bedroom, he almost never stakes a claim.
Thought he wasn’t interested.
Did he just not know how?
I gape at the fully-loaded fork. “You’re seriously going to feed me?”
Atlas smirks.
Smirks. “You want airplane noises?”
Oh, fuck no.
I jerk forward to bite the pasta like a snapping turtle. I don’t know how to react to any of this until the flavor hits. Cream and sage and melt-in-your-mouth sweet potato. “Wait. You cooked? This?”
He stabs another bite for me. “Celeste helped. It’s nutritionally balanced. Root vegetables are good for omegas. And there’s cauliflower in the cream sauce.”
I for sure need to make up nutrition class.
Still praying Lilah’s lying about the coffee.
But the taste of cream sours on my lips. “You shouldn’t give this to me. Give it to her.”
He mounts the other barstool, sliding to trap my knees between his legs. “Orion—”
“We need to give Lilah a plate. She hasn’t eaten. She’ll—”
“Orion,” he says with that rasp that sends me into deep freeze.
I’ve been waiting to have THE TALK.
I know he’s going to cut me loose.
I’ll be fine. I have Lilah, and I can find an alpha for my next heat.
Hunter, Finn, and Jett aren’t going to mate me again, and I don’t want them to, but they’ll be there for me if I need.
Especially if Lilah wants to watch. Or join.
So it’s fine if Atlas wants to officially hack away the last spiderweb thread of our bond. “At—”
He stuffs another gnocchi in my mouth.
While I’m forced to chew, he grips my shoulders, trapping me with a mouth full of cream sauce. “Orion.”
I swallow the sludgy mouthful. Here it comes. “Yeah.”
“Do you want to watch a movie with me?”
“Do I…”
Fucking, what?
Who the hell is Celeste and what kind of mushrooms is she feeding him? “A movie? Now?”
Atlas nods.
