Chapter 18 – REGINA #2
"Man's a machine," Sean agrees. "Twenty miles minimum, every morning, usually before dawn. Says it helps him think."
"Guess that's why you only need five," Rowan says without missing a beat.
I'm not sure how to respond to that. The reminder of their physical prowess—their animal nature—sends a small shudder through me. Wolves need to run, to hunt. It's in their blood.
"He'll be back soon," Micah adds, setting a glass of orange juice in front of me. "Coffee?"
"Please," I nod, appreciating the change of subject.
But speak of the devil and he appears.
The front door opens and closes with a solid thud, followed by heavy footsteps heading our way. Killian strides into the kitchen, and my brain temporarily short-circuits.
He's shirtless, skin glistening with sweat, dark hair damp and pushed back from his forehead.
Every inch of his torso is defined muscle—broad shoulders, sculpted chest, ridged abdomen—all moving beneath golden skin as he breathes.
It's like watching a Renaissance sculpture come to life, only better.
"Morning," he says, his voice a low rumble that does strange things to my insides. His ice-blue eyes find mine immediately, intense and unashamed in their appreciation. "Sleep well?"
"Yes," I mumble, forcing my gaze back to my orange juice. "Fine, thanks."
Holy hell.
I'm used to witches. Academics, intellectuals, men who spend more time with books and spells than in the gym.
Kyle is fit, sure, but in a lean, aristocratic way.
These wolves are something else entirely.
Raw power shaped into human form. And it's not just Killian.
They're all built like gods, all radiating that same primal energy.
It is not helping my decision-making process.
"Shower," Rowan commands, breaking the moment. "You're dripping sweat all over my clean floor."
Killian grins, unrepentant. "Yes, mom." He snags a piece of bacon from the serving plate as he passes, earning a slap on the wrist from Rowan's spatula. He gives me a wink, nonplussed. "Be back in five."
I watch him go, then immediately curse myself for watching. When I turn back, I catch Sean smirking at me knowingly. I glare at him, which only makes his grin widen.
Breakfast is a surprisingly comfortable affair.
Rowan's cooking is excellent, despite Sean complaining that he’s the only one who should be allowed in the kitchen because no one else can make bacon like he can.
There are fluffy pancakes, crisp bacon, fresh fruit, and the best, most buttery scrambled eggs I've had in years.
The conversation flows easily, focusing on safe topics like classes and local restaurants.
They're clearly making an effort to keep things light, to put me at ease.
It's working.
"We were thinking," Killian says as we finish eating, freshly showered and dressed in a charcoal henley that clings to his still-damp body, "if you're up for it, we could head into town. Get you some supplies, whatever you need."
"That would be great, actually," I admit.
"Perfect," Sean claps his hands together. "Shopping spree!"
"More like basic necessities," I clarify. "I'm not exactly flush with cash at the moment."
A look passes between them, too quick for me to interpret.
"Don't worry about that," Killian says smoothly. "Pack takes care of its own."
Before I can protest that I'm not actually "pack," Rowan clears his throat and looks between Killian and Micah. "Don't you guys have classes this morning?"
The glares they both shoot him could melt steel.
"Not important," Micah mutters.
"We can miss one day," Killian agrees.
I shake my head. "Absolutely not. You're not disrupting your schedules because of me." Both look ready to argue, so I add firmly, "I mean it. You're both going to class. I'll be fine with Rowan and Sean."
Rebecca's text message lingers in the back of my mind, but if she were in any position to follow through on that threat, she wouldn't have sent a text at all. And confronting me with two alpha wolves flanking me would be flat-out insane, even for her.
Killian's jaw works. He’s clearly unhappy about it, but then he sighs. "Fine," he concedes finally. "But take my card, and get whatever you need. No arguments," he adds when I open my mouth to protest.
"And keep your phone on," Micah adds. "We'll check in between classes."
The way they're acting, you'd think I was preparing for a dangerous expedition into uncharted wilderness, not a shopping trip into town with two of their packmates. One of which being the wolf that tackled Kyle himself to the ground.
"I'll be fine," I assure them. "Really."
They reluctantly leave for class after extracting multiple promises from Sean and Rowan to keep me safe and call if anything happens. I try not to roll my eyes at the drama of it all.
"Ready for an adventure?" Sean asks once they're gone, flashing another of his million-watt grins.
"If by 'adventure' you mean 'buying a toothbrush,' then sure," I reply dryly.
"With us, everything's an adventure," he says with a wink.
Gods help me, I think he might be right.
The drive into town is mercifully uneventful.
Sean commandeers the music in Rowan's sleek black SUV, blasting an eclectic mix that ranges from classic rock to hip-hop to Norwegian death metal.
Rowan suffers through it with stoic resignation, occasionally reaching over to lower the volume when Sean gets too enthusiastic about his air guitar solos.
It’s not what I’d usually consider fun, but I kind of like it.
We pull up outside a sprawling superstore that promises to have everything from groceries to electronics. I mentally calculate the cost of the bare essentials against my dwindling funds. I know Killian gave me his card, but I’d rather not use it. At least I can afford a toothbrush on my own.
"Stay close," Rowan says as we enter, and I can't tell if he's talking to me or Sean. Probably both.
Inside, I grab a small basket and head for the toiletries section. Sean immediately disappears down a random aisle—" Ooh, they restocked the jerky! "—while Rowan stays beside me, quietly observant.
I find a basic toothbrush for two bucks and add it to my basket.
Rowan watches but says nothing, which I appreciate.
Sean finds us again and follows at a distance, but keeps getting distracted by random shit, which is equally convenient.
The last thing I need is someone commenting on my financial situation and reminding me the pack is paying for it.
I linger over a display of comfortable-looking socks, remembering that most of mine have holes. But even the cheapest pack is way too expensive. I reluctantly move on.
We're in the pharmacy section when I realize Sean is nowhere to be seen. "Where did he go?" I ask Rowan.
"Who knows?" Rowan sighs. "He has the attention span of a goldfish. He'll turn up eventually, probably with an armful of things we don't need."
"You should probably go find him before he buys all the snacks in the store," I suggests. "Seems like a risk."
"You have no idea," Rowan says, seeming reluctant to leave me, but ultimately deciding we're in more danger from an unsupervised Sean in a grocery store. "I'll be right back."
Perfect.
Now that I have a second, I duck into the next aisle to grab a box of tampons since I can sense Mother Nature is about to start fucking with me in that regard, too.
While I'm trying to decide between the cheapest box and one that's technically a better deal but would eat up most of my remaining cash, I feel a sudden looming presence behind me.
"What's this one do?"
“Holy shit !” I yelp, nearly dropping everything in my basket as I spin around. My elbow rams into a wall of padded muscle and I know it’s Sean before I even see him.
“Geez, you’re pointy as fuck,” he grumbles, rubbing the side of his stomach and wincing like I stabbed him.
“You scared the shit out of me,” I hiss through my teeth.
“Sorry,” he says with a sheepish grin. He reaches past me for a box on the shelf, studying it intently. "I've always wondered how these work," he says, turning the box over in his hands.
"Ever heard of plugging a dam?" I mutter. "Same principle applies."
His eyes widen slightly, but he keeps staring at the box. "Huh. Well, I could always just?—"
Before he can finish that ill-advised thought, Rowan appears behind me and snatches the box from Sean's hands. "For fuck's sake, Sean."
"What? I'm curious! I grew up in a house with two dads and five brothers."
Oh . That explains a lot, actually.
My face burns with embarrassment, but I can't help the startled laugh that escapes me. Of course this is happening. Of course the two wolves found me in the fucking tampon aisle, of all places.
"I actually do need those," I say, taking the box from Rowan. I add it to my basket.
"Why is your face so red?" Rowan asks, tilting his head.
Oh, god. He's just as bad as Sean, just in a different way. At least Sean knows and accepts he’s a himbo. "I mean, I'm discussing tampon mechanics in public with two alpha wolves I barely even know."
"This ain't even close to the weirdest thing we've discussed in the grocery store," Sean says, leaning on a pad display that promptly topples over.
He scrambles to collect the sea of purple and pink plastic packages now scattered on the floor under the weary glare of an overworked employee watching us from further down the aisle.
"He has a point," Rowan says dryly. "Besides, you're our mate.
Uh. Potential mate. And we're not fifteen-year-old boys.
" He pauses, glancing at Sean, who's currently losing the war against the display of pads.
"Okay, so some of us are mentally, but you can blame unsupervised go-karting and compounded concussions for that. "
I can't help but laugh. "Duly noted."