Slow Hours #3
I lean in and kiss him. Soft, slow, trying to remind him that everything’s okay and he’s still deeply loved.
Adrian makes a broken sound against my mouth and leans into it like he's been drowning. When I pull back, I press my forehead to his and hold it there.
"Everything's gonna be okay," I whisper. "I mean it."
We breathe together in the dark for a minute. Then I sit back on my heels, still holding his face in my hands.
"I'm scared, Mack," he says, his voice raw. His eyes are wet again, and this time it's not shame, it's fear, real and deep. "I'm scared of what I'll do to her if you let me out of here."
I can’t help but laugh at that, and Adrian pulls his face out of my hands.
"You saw me yesterday." His voice rises. "If I get near her and I lose it like that again, I could hurt her. I could really hurt her."
"No,” I say simply. "You couldn't."
"You don't know that."
"I do, actually." I dig my phone out of my waistband and hold it up.
"I’ve been sitting out on that porch half the night going down a rabbit hole.
Reading up on this fated mate business." I thumb the screen and put in my passcode.
"Every post, every thread, every comment from folks who've lived it.
They all say the same thing. A fated mate can't hurt his omega.
He physically can't hurt. It's wired into your DNA. "
Adrian's face twists.
"Fated mate?" He says the words like they’re foreign "Mack, come on. You don't actually believe she and I are—"
"I do."
Adrian looks at me sideways, one eyebrow going up, waiting on the punchline. "No," he finally says, when I don’t so much as crack a smile. "We're not fated mates, Mack," he says, slower this time, quieter, like maybe if he lands it gentle enough it'll change my mind. "There's no such thing."
"Yeah, well," I tuck my phone back into my waistband, "fate don't give a good goddamn what you believe."
Adrian shakes his head, stubborn, not buying a word of it.
He plants a hand on the workbench and drags himself up off the concrete, unsteady on legs that have been folded under him all night.
"I'm not in the mood for this right now, Mack." There's no heat in it, just bone-tired. "I mean it. Whatever the joke is," he motions to me, "I can't do it this morning. I really can't."
I push up off my knees and get to my feet in front of him.
"Alright." I brace myself, ready to test the gentle giant. "Humor me a second." I wait for him to nod.
"Fine." He lets out a heavy sigh.
"Picture me walking right up to sweet, old Miss Ellie in one of her little tracksuits, and I punch her square in the face. I mean, beatin' her down right there on the sidewalk. Even kicking that sad old beagle of hers for good measure."
Adrian stares at me, his mouth falling open. "What the fuck, man?"
"Picture it. Me and Miss Ellie. How's that sit?"
"You are seriously deranged." He cuts me a look.
"I’m good with that. Now picture this." I hold his eyes.
"Picture me walking back in that house." I hitch a thumb at the kitchen door.
"Down the hall. Into the bedroom where Lyra's sound asleep.
" I keep my voice easy, and Adrian’s eyes narrow.
"What if I draw back my hand, and I slap her across the face as hard as I—"
His hand is around my throat before I can finish, his eyes going dark. His teeth are bared an inch from my face, a growl ripping up out of his chest so vicious it rattles the tools on the wall.
For half a second, my heart kicks hard as heat pours down through me, thick and fast. It pools low in my gut as my cock goes stiff behind my zipper.
Well. That's a hell of a thing to learn about myself.
I should be worried. Adrian's got a look that promises violence and there's a growl in his chest that means business. But every drop of blood in me has decided this is the best thing I've seen all week, and there's no talking it back down.
And all I can do is laugh.
Rough and low, right into that sexy, snarling face.
Adrian blinks. The black drains out of his eyes and horror floods in behind it. He quickly snatches his hands back like my throat burned him.
"God—Mack—" He scrambles backward. "I'm sorry, I don't—I keep—I have no control over myself, I can't—"
"Adrian." I rub my throat, still grinning. "That's the whole point, you beautiful idiot. You just about tore my head off my shoulders for pretending to threaten her. You really think you’d be able to hurt her yourself?"
He stares at me, chest heaving.
I clap him on the shoulder, leaning in.
"But if you still feel a bit wild, I could use a rough alpha right about now." I drop my gaze down his body. "Nico mated our girl last night, while I slept on the porch. My dick's so hard you could hang a hat on it."
Adrian's whole face slackens. "Wait." He grabs my arm. "Wait, back up. Nico did what?" The wildness, the shame, the fear, all of it falls right off him, wiped clean by plain disbelief.
"You heard me." I grin and haul him toward the kitchen door. "So you best make peace with that fear quick, alpha. Cuz that little omega's ours now, and she ain't going anywhere."