Forty-Nine
FORTY-NINE
Luca
IT WASN’T TOO SURPRISING that Mia hadn’t come back to the nest last night. After all, it wasn’t the first time she’d ended up sleeping in Emiel’s arms, now that he was starting to open himself up to her.
To us , if I was being honest.
That part, on its own, wouldn’t have had me pacing back and forth inside my office at the Hope Project, trying to talk myself out of marching downstairs to corral Emiel and ask him ‘ what the actual fuck’ ? I was fine with them cuddling up. It was sweet, in its way.
But that was a world away from listening to the unmistakable sound of them fucking like wildcats, loud enough that I sincerely doubted anyone in the house had managed to miss it. Except maybe— hopefully —Mia’s not-so-estranged husband , down in the first-floor guest room with his less than acute beta hearing.
Okay. That was it. I couldn’t handle this for another goddamned second.
The clock ticked over to nine a.m., when I knew Emiel would be between sessions with the kids. I marched downstairs and found him alone in the staff room, chugging the world’s largest cup of coffee and looking like he’d been up most of the night.
“Goddamn it, Emiel. What the actual fuck ?” I demanded.
Emiel froze with the coffee half-raised to his lips, looking as though I’d caught him stealing the crown jewels rather than mainlining caffeine. Which was good, because it meant he knew exactly what I was talking about, and why I was freaking out.
His eyes darted around the room like he expected someone to be hiding in the supplies closet, eavesdropping on us.
“Not here,” he said, putting the half-finished cup on the cluttered counter next to the sink. “Let’s go outside.”
It was fucking freezing outside. Still, I didn’t protest—confident that my rampaging nerves would do a more than adequate job of keeping me warm. He grabbed his coat from the rack and led the way to the alley door where he usually escaped when he needed a few minutes alone.
I let him usher me through ahead of him and, yep ... freezing. Before I could rethink this plan, he draped his wool coat over my shoulders, enveloping me in warmth and the smell of cinnamon. Startled, I clutched it around myself. I could have swum in the damned thing; it was so big on me. He retreated a step and crossed his arms, clad only in shirtsleeves.
“I... didn’t expect it to happen so soon,” he said, not even pretending to be ignorant of the subject of the conversation. “But it was good, Luca. Really good.”
The familiar flutter of panic—of feeling as though I was being left behind—tightened around my lungs.
“I thought you were scared of hurting her,” I said, not liking how hoarse my voice sounded.
His eyes skittered away, and he examined the stained brickwork of the alley wall for a long moment.
“Took some precautions, didn’t I?” he muttered, still not meeting my gaze. “Been talking to the therapist about things.”
“Precautions?” I asked in disbelief. “What, like—”
“Handcuffs and a ball gag. That way I couldn’t lose control and hold her down. I couldn’t lose control and bite her.”
My jaw clicked shut, a wave of lightheadedness making me sway as I completely failed to avoid picturing it in my head. An instant later, a wave of nausea followed as I understood what he’d let Mia do to him.
“You... you let someone have sex with you while you were helpless?” I could hear how appalled I sounded.
At that, he met my eyes again.
“Yeah.” A small frown furrowed his brow. “Luca... I wouldn’t’ve done it with just anyone. But it was Mia . She kept asking if what she was doing was all right. If I wanted it. Every step of the way. She would’ve stopped if I’d said no.”
Why was my heart pounding so goddamned fast?
I swallowed hard, flashing back to every time I’d let Byron restrain me, trusting that he wouldn’t touch me while I was warming his cock or watching him fuck someone else. That felt... different , even though I was suddenly having a difficult time determining why.
Emiel’s frown deepened. “You’re upset.”
It wasn’t exactly a deduction worthy of Sherlock Holmes, but it was still unexpected coming from Emiel.
“We’re supposed to be trauma-bros,” I joked weakly. “What am I going to do if I’m the only one in the house who’s a mental health disaster?”
God, I was so pathetic .
Emiel lowered himself to sit on the top step, still seemingly untouched by the winter chill. “You’re not,” he said. “But... Luca. We’re all supposed to be a pack. Mia knows it. I think you know it, too. And I’ve been thinkin’, how do we make it so that can actually happen?”
I took a step backward, unable to help myself.
“It can’t,” I said reflexively. “Not for us .”
“You want it to, though?” Emiel asked, like someone who already knew the answer.
I wrapped my arms around myself, releasing a fresh waft of Earl Grey tea laced with cinnamon to my nostrils. My eyes burned, and I blinked rapidly against the threat of tears.
“You know I do,” I whispered, trembling with something that wasn’t the cold. “But what kind of monster subjects people they care about to the kind of shit that lives inside our heads?”
Emiel took a deep breath and let it out, his barrel chest expanding and contracting. “That’s what I’ve been thinking about,” he said.
“And...?” I tried to inject sarcasm into the word, but in the end, I just sounded desperate.
His dark eyes held mine in the gray light of the alley. “What if we learned to control the bond... by practicing with someone who already knew that kind of trauma? Someone who wouldn’t be shocked.”
I blinked, staring at him for several seconds before the penny dropped.
At which point, I felt like I’d just been hit by a bus.
“You don’t mean...” I began uncertainly.
“Yeah, I do,” he said. “But I just want you to think about it for now. Maybe talk about it with Dr. Mushimba. If... y’know, if you want to.”
With that, his bravado seemed to have fled, and he looked down at his clasped hands.
Did I want to think about it? Did I want to talk to the therapist he and I shared about entering a mating bond with someone who’d been hurt as badly as I had?
“I will,” I said, my voice a bare rasp in the sharp winter air. “Think about it, I mean.”
Somehow, on top of having my world rocked on its axis by an alpha who had terrifying ideas, I’d also managed to forget that it was a Monday. Or, more accurately, I’d forgotten why Mondays were significant.
The Elderflower Inn was closed on Mondays, meaning Mia and Nat were both at the house when I left work. Which wasn’t a big deal, in and of itself.
What made it a big deal was the fact that when I got home, it was to find the pair of them holding Byron hostage in the TV room. Byron looked about as trapped as I’d felt in the alley earlier that day, when I’d realized that Emiel wanted to change everything .
That didn’t bode well for my remaining shreds of emotional self-control... because apparently, the four of us were about to have The Talk.
I thought I’d been prepared to have The Talk, even with the added complication of Byron having slept with Nat. I’d mostly been upset about that part on Mia’s behalf.
And as far as I could tell, Mia wasn’t upset about it. Like... not at all .
I couldn’t quite decide if the comfort I felt with Mia’s husband made the situation more tangled or less. But it was damned hard to stay mad at someone after they’d risked their own life to save yours. I wasn’t inclined to try, quite frankly.
And Byron and me... we understood each other. Or, at least, I’d always thought we did. Now, though, I was still reeling from the discussion with Emiel, and I could only imagine Byron’s reaction if he found out about the subject of our conversation.
“Luca,” Mia said, as I paused in the doorway. “Come in for a few minutes? We finally succeeded in ambushing this one.” She poked a finger into Byron’s shoulder.
The alpha’s guarded gray eyes met mine, but I couldn’t get a read on his expression.
“Yes,” Byron said waspishly. “Do come in, Luca. I’m sure this conversation is going to be delightful .”
“Yeah,” I replied faintly. “I’m sure it will be.”