Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Emory
Emory couldn’t help but feel like a desperate schoolboy with a crush.
He’d thought the feeling would pass the more he chatted and got to know Cameron.
Instead, he felt like Cameron was keeping him on the edge of his seat, giving him tiny glimpses, but hiding his full self from Emory.
He’d gotten a hint of it at the restaurant when Cameron admitted to having horrid biological parents and a tough time with conflict and confrontation.
Emory had been torn between encouraging him to open up further or wrapping him up in his arms and telling him he didn’t have to say another word.
By the end of the date, he’d gotten the sense that Cameron was finally opening up to him, initiating a hug and pressing their bodies together in front of the bus.
The days that followed, however, saw Cameron retreating into his shell, reverting to memes and flirty banter over text.
Emory didn’t know what to expect from their second date.
He showed up at the coffee shop a few minutes early and decided to wait outside in the surprisingly bright December sun.
Before he had time to overheat in his heavy overcoat, Cameron came scurrying around the corner.
Unlike at the restaurant, Cameron didn’t pull up short.
He hurried directly to Emory’s side and grabbed his hand.
Emory’s lion chuffed happily, and when Emory tried to shush him, he began to purr instead.
He wondered if Cameron could feel it as their hands stayed connected all the way up to the register, through ordering and receiving their drinks, and to the table they snagged by the window.
His lion was going to end up losing his voice–if that was a thing that could happen to shifter beasts–because he purred even louder as Cameron launched into a funny story about his sister’s most recent misadventures in online dating.
It felt good to laugh together. Their first date had been a little intense, at least at the beginning, and he loved to see this more jovial, almost playful side of his fated mate.
When Cameron’s story ended, Emory smoothly moved into a story Christopher had told him about a fated mates party, and Cameron followed with a story of Shay getting stranded on an island with a tech-bro she met on a dating app.
Cameron admitted, somewhat hesitantly, that he had a sparse dating history compared to his sister. When Cameron’s college ex came up, his eyes skirted around the room, jumping from one rustically designed table to another, finally landing on the handmade coffee mug he was drinking from.
“He…wasn’t a very good guy,” Cameron finally admitted into his mug, and both Emory and his lion’s hackles raised.
His aunt, Corin, had dated someone who ‘wasn’t a very good guy,’ and she still had the scars, both physical and emotional, to show for it.
Emory had been too young to do anything, and his father had always been cautious not to use his alpha power to control the lives of anyone in the pride.
They’d watched as the light slowly faded from Corin’s eyes until finally, one day, she’d had enough.
She was now happily mated to her fated mate, Ariel, who was one of the nicest women Emory had ever met.
He thanked fate every time he was with them that Corin had weathered the storm and made it out on the other side.
It seemed like Cameron must have done the same thing, but it didn’t stop Emory’s blood from boiling or his lion from gnashing his teeth together.
Emory forced himself to do his own scan of the cafe. He tried to name one item in every color of the rainbow to distract himself—and, more importantly, his lion—from going full alpha male. His lion wanted to hunt this man down and instill a little of the fear he saw in Cameron’s eyes.
Emory waited until his pulse had returned to normal before looking back at Cameron.
To his dismay, Cameron’s demeanor had shifted.
His shoulders had collapsed inward, and he was leaning as far away as he could while still remaining on his chair.
They were still holding hands, but Cameron’s hand was limp in his.
This brought Emory’s anger and his lion to a halt.
“I’m so sorry to hear that, honey,” Emory said, keeping his voice just above a whisper.
Cameron glanced up at him and then away. “Yeah, no, it wasn’t great, but we don’t have to talk about it. Sorry for bringing the mood down.”
Emory’s lion yowled, and Emory floundered for something to say.
“When we were kids, Ronan and I got trapped in a dumpster.”
Cameron’s fingers flexed, and he slowly looked up at Emory with a raised eyebrow.
It was a ridiculous story. Emory had been trying to rescue a kitten, but the kitten had jumped right out as soon as they fell into the stinky box, and the lid had slammed closed on top of them.
It had taken almost two hours for someone to come find them, and in that time, Emory’s lion had managed to break several nails trying to claw open the lid.
When their rescuers had lifted them out of the dumpster, the first thing Emory had done was shift back and complain about breaking his nails. Ronan had never let him live it down.
By the end of the story, Cameron’s shoulders had relaxed, and so Emory launched into a few of his own dating disasters from his early twenties, including a broken carriage ride and a rock-climbing trip that resulted in the man he’d been on the date with discovering he was deathly afraid of heights.
Cameron finally settled back into his seat and told his own story about ending up in an alley just to avoid being hit on.
“Did you want to use up your guess for today?” Emory asked as they stood on the sidewalk waiting for Cameron’s bus.
Cameron had once again refused the offer of a ride, but this time Emory had looked up bus schedules, and he knew they had a solid five minutes left before the bus arrived.
“Moose,” Cameron said with surprising confidence.
“No,” Emory said, trying to contain his laughter. “I’m not a moose.”
Emory thought of the burly moose shifter who had the misfortune of being stuck with him in Anchorage on Fall Harvest. He was a very good-looking man, with shoulders broad enough that he could probably carry Emory on them.
He decided to take the guess as a compliment.
“Are you a beta fish?” Emory asked.
Cameron’s face scrunched up in outrage. “No, I am definitely not a fish you win at a carnival.”
Emory loved watching the two freckles above Cameron’s lips twitch as he grimaced and disappear when he smiled.
Whenever they had their first kiss, which Emory was praying would be on New Year’s Eve, those freckles were the first thing he wanted to kiss. He wanted to know if his skin tasted as good as he smelled, and if his mouth was as warm as his hand was in Emory’s.
“We only have six more guesses until New Year’s,” Cameron said, and Emory stopped staring at his lips.
“I have confidence in us,” he said, and Cameron scoffed, but he leaned against Emory’s arm.
Emory’s lion picked up on the sound of the bus before Emory did. This time, he initiated the hug, releasing Cameron’s hand so he could pull him tightly against his chest.
Cameron seemed to tense at any initial contact, but each time they touched, whether it be their hands, their sides, or in a hug, he melted into Emory faster and faster. It took him around three seconds to melt into the hug, and when he did, it was so sweet it made the roots of Emory’s teeth ache.
He could hold his omega in his arms for the rest of his life and still not get enough.
Unfortunately, it had to carry him all the way to New Year’s Eve, which was a long seven days, especially as Cameron returned to his somewhat distant texting. Emory did his best to keep being open and personal over text, but it was tough. They connected so much better in person.
Finally, New Year’s Eve arrived, and Emory found himself standing in the lobby of his building, fidgeting with the cuffs of his dress shirt and trying not to check his phone for the hundredth time.
He had once again offered Cameron a ride, but he’d declined, stating, “It seems a bit ridiculous for you to leave your place to come get me and bring me back to your place.”
It wasn’t technically his place, or at least the party wasn’t at his place. He lived three floors above Christopher. While that should make a sleepover simple, Cameron hadn’t mentioned staying the night since their dinner, so neither had Emory.
“If I may, sir,” the front desk clerk said, tipping his head towards Emory’s hands, which were still fidgeting on his sleeve. “I have known you for a long time. I think anyone would be lucky to ring in the new year with you.”
Emory dropped his hands to his sides and smiled at the older man. “Thank you, Jefferson. That means a lot. I think I might be the lucky one, but I suppose any of us who are able to find our fated mates are quite lucky.”
Jefferson nodded adamantly.
“How are your husband and the chicks?” Emory asked, walking over to lean more casually against the desk.
Jefferson and his mate were not only fated mates but a married couple.
Jefferson’s puffin alpha father had insisted they uphold the matrimonial tradition, and Emory and his mother had attended the service.
His mom had made a few throwaway comments about how it compared to lion traditions, but Emory found the whole thing rather romantic.
“They’re wonderful. Logan went on quite the holiday shopping spree with the holiday bonus you and your mother gave us. Thank you again, sir,” Jefferson said as he smoothed out a crease in Emory’s shirt sleeve.
Emory clasped Jefferson’s forearm right as the front door of the building opened. This was probably for the best; otherwise, his lion would have launched them across the warmly lit space.