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I glance at Lilah’s hallway. “I thought you’d want to focus on—”
“Is she safe?”
“Of course. She’s working.”
Atlas hands me one of the plastic-lidded containers. “Give this to her? I’ll make popcorn.”
It takes me a second to kick back into motion, floored that he doesn’t want to deliver the meal himself.
He should want to take credit because he’s learning to cook, and learning to take care of our omega. I thought he’d fucking tackle me out of the way to deliver the plate he made.
I was ready to get booted off the island and eat my final rejection.
So why is he being…sweet?
To me and not to her?
Reeling, I set the dish in front of Lilah’s door and give a soft tap. “Lilah? Dinner.”
I walk away, taking loud steps so she knows I’m gone, then wait around the corner until I hear her crack the door and grab the dish.
Glad she’s staying in.
If Atlas and I need to fight a civil war, she won’t ever need to know there was a battle.
But while I’m tense and ready for the throw-down that’ll shake my soul, Atlas is popping popcorn.
I sit on the sofa, mannequin style.
When he comes in juggling the popcorn bowl, he pulls me between his thighs and wraps us in a blanket.
My iffy omega instincts crackle back online.
His body heat thaws parts I didn’t know were cold, and the leather, sex-god scent of him sinks into my flesh like a three-hour massage and a fifth of whiskey.
Fuuuuck his touch is good.
Solid pack leader vibes.
Atlas drapes his arms over my shoulders. “Is this alright?”
His heart beats against my ribs. His breath ghosts my neck, and my throat fucking burns in the half-moons where his bite used to mark my flesh.
Is it alright?
His touch is fucking magic.
Only, I wonder if it’s real or an illusion. “Did you get brain surgery?”
“I got a wake-up call.”
“About fucking time.”
He offers a piece of popcorn to my lips and I take it. He slathered it in Cajun seasoning that I love but know he hates. I swallow and feel the bite go down in a lump. “I thought we were going to talk.”
“Do you want to?”
“Not really.” This fantasy moment’s too good to ruin with reality. “Just feels like we should.”
