11. Avery
Avery
A fter I ate my before-dinner snack and my blood sugar balanced out, I felt better, stronger, and having slept, my mind returned immediately to the case.
While I’d always raged against the machine that ran the lives of omegas, it was nice now that I was being ignored in the wedding preparations because, at the moment, I was trying to work through something in my head.
There was a piece I was missing, and I had the weirdest feeling it was right in front of my face.
“Avery.”
I turned quickly to my father, who’d spoken. “Yessir?”
“What do you think of next month? A December wedding, before the holidays?”
“I think that’s too far away,” I answered, looking across the table at Graeme, sitting between his brother and mine. “Don’t you agree?”
“I do,” Graeme murmured, and those warm mahogany eyes of his almost glowed as he stared at me.
The laugh lines crinkling in the corners made my pulse quicken.
The man had a strange effect on me, carnal and debauched and sheltering and grounding all at the same time.
I wanted to fuck him and talk to him, have him hold me down and hold my hand in equal measure.
It would be so wonderful if everyone went home.
“A Thanksgiving wedding, then,” my mother suggested. “With a harvest theme, all gold and orange and wine.”
“Yes, please,” I baited her, “lots of wine.”
I got pelted with olives and peas, and Graeme and Stone and Gigi were stunned at my family’s behavior.
They were also surprised when they arrived not in suits and ties, pantsuits or dresses, but just as I was, in clothes for relaxation.
Or, more precisely, their individual versions of dressing down.
My father looked good in his layers, a dark brown herringbone wool blazer and matching waistcoat, a denim shirt, vintage jeans, and tan wingtips.
The newsboy cap was a final flourish, and I saw how my mother kept eyeing him and knew he’d worn it for her benefit. She loved him in hats.
My mother was in black trousers and a white dress shirt and shiny black lace-ups.
Ambrose had on a sport coat over a dress shirt and jeans, his polished Chelsea boots catching the light when he took a seat on the couch.
His wife was in chunky boots and leggings and a long off-the-shoulder sweater.
Andrea looked good in four-inch leopard print heels that Gigi loved, and ankle jeans and a sweater that was as old as my cardigan.
Her husband was in chinos and a cashmere sweater over a dress shirt, tucked and belted.
They all looked nice, comfy, while Graeme and his family looked like they were entertaining clients and brokering some high-powered deal.
“I wanted them to know how important this dinner was for me and my family,” Graeme explained to me as we stood together in a corner. “But now they must think that we’re all terribly pretentious, with Stone and I in suits and ties and Gigi in her couture.”
I tipped my head at my father. “He likes to wear all those layers because my mom thinks he’s hot,” I teased my mate, who looked at me in absolute horror. “So when he gets a chance, he does. That’s how he looks when they go out antiquing.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
Leaning against him, he put his arm around my shoulders, tucking me into his side. “Because you don’t ever have to impress them; they’re your family now, and if you were in those lounge pants and T-shirt you had on when I showed up this afternoon, that would have been fine.”
“I would never entertain in such casual attire,” he informed me, sounding almost affronted. “What does that convey to one’s guests?”
“To them, to my family, who are now yours as well, it says that you’re comfortable with them because we’re all just hanging out,” I assured him with a snicker.
“But that’s not you, and that’s okay. You’re comfortable having dinner dressed in your suit and tie, but just know for next time that if you wanted to wear some jeans and a sweatshirt, that’d be okay too. ”
When he didn’t say anything for a moment, I looked up at his face.
“I don’t own either of those items,” he deadpanned, the concern on his face evident.
I laughed and turned into him, wrapping my arms around his waist and squeezing tight.
At dinner, Ambrose told me about how upset Graeme was the night of the gathering, and how Graeme had lifted him off his feet and held him on the wall.
“I knew then, he was crazy about you,” he told the table, lifting his glass.
“Welcome to the family, Graeme, Stone, and Gigi. We’re so happy to have you. ”
I was proud of my brother and got up and went around the table to hug him. He groaned like I was killing him, and everyone laughed.
Later, as was tradition, I showed everyone my mark, and they all took turns kissing it to give Graeme and I their blessing.
Because the wedding was still a couple weeks away, Graeme would host a party to announce our union the following Friday, but since the contract was signed, his house was now mine, and we were, per lupine law, bonded.
He had a ring that resembled a signet but was more crudely fashioned, gold, chunky and heavy, an ancient piece made by hand, not from a mold, passed down through his family for generations.
His father had worn it most recently, before it was placed in a safe and locked away.
But it was Graeme’s to bestow, and he wanted me to wear it, starting now, and so slid it onto the middle finger of my left hand, holding a spot there until the wedding, when he would give me a band of his own design.
Everyone clapped when he lifted my chin and kissed me.
They wanted to see the house then, so Stone and Gigi, excited to share their home, our home—I had to get used to saying that—took my family on a tour, all except my mother, who stayed with me.
She took me aside when Graeme excused himself to make a call, held my hands tight, and looked up into my eyes.
“Are you truly happy?”
Of course she would check. She was my mother.
“Yeah,” I told her, smiling. “You can’t tell, ’cause you don’t know him yet, but he’s good.
Like, down deep, all the way through. I know it in my heart,” I whispered.
“He’s strong, and not just as an alpha or a cyne , but as a man.
He’s not gonna let me get away with anything, but he’s not going to try and change me either.
” She nodded instead of crying, and I let go of her hands and eased her into my arms. “He’s gonna love me someday, I know it. I can feel it.”
“Foolish child,” she chided me, kissing my cheek. “He loves you now.”
“No, not yet. You wanna think so ’cause you’re a romantic and––”
“He never takes his eyes off you,” she interrupted before she took a step back to gaze up at my face.
“He touches you constantly. It was physically difficult for him to sit across from you at dinner, and while you were staring at his father’s ring when he put it on your finger, I was looking at him.
The pride on that man’s face nearly made me cry,” she said, pulling a handkerchief from the pocket of her trousers and dabbing at her red, puffy eyes.
“And my goodness, he’s all but drowned you in his pheromones.
I can barely find your woodsy scent under his. ”
Scent. Pheromones. Her puffy eyes. Something I should know.
“What?” I asked after a moment, trying to figure something out, thinking I needed to keep her talking. “Mom?”
“Your scent, love,” she reiterated. “I can usually smell you easily. I can pick out all my kids, but not right now, which is, you know, normal. Once everyone knows that you belong to him, he’ll stop pumping out those pheromones. It’s a natural part of the process of mating.”
“Yes,” I agreed quickly, the spark in the darkness becoming clear. “Mom, I have a huge favor to ask.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Of course.”
I found Graeme in his office, and even though I needed him to come with me, I couldn’t help but take a moment to admire the way the cut of his suit accentuated his broad shoulders, narrow waist, and long legs.
Even from across the room, I could feel the strength and power radiating off the man. He was breathtaking.
Standing near the double doors that led out onto yet another private balcony, he was framed in moonlight, and when he saw my reflection in the glass, he turned to look at me.
“I wanted to give you and your mother some privacy before I returned.”
“Which is great, and thank you, but so ya know, she’s crazy about you.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Is she?”
“Yeah, my whole family is.”
He crossed his arms as he gazed at me. “Your whole family?”
“Yep. Everyone. Especially me.”
“Especially you?”
“Listen,” I rushed out, because even though I wanted to stand there and flirt with him, I didn’t have time. “The second we get home, I would love to come back into this room and have you fuck me against the glass door, but right now I need your nose.”
Instant scowl. “You say the most confusing things at times, are you aware?”
“This won’t be the most confusing, promise, but will you come with me please?”
“Of course,” he agreed, striding toward me. “Let me call Izzy, and I’ll have her bring––”
“No. I got it covered. My Jeep’s right outside.”
“You can’t be serious,” he deadpanned, looking horrified.
“C’mon, it’ll be great. It’ll be an adventure.”
“And that’s a good thing?”
Ten minutes later, I was thinking he might not be enjoying how fast I drove and took corners in the city.
The deduction came from the fact that he had one hand on the dashboard and the other on the Jesus handle as I navigated us back to his cousin Remy’s house in Highland Park.
For most of the ride, he remained silent, unable, it seemed, when he felt his life was in peril, to banter with me.
Finally, when we were almost there, he took a deep breath.