Chapter 26
26
JASPER
“Do you like to cook?” I ask, focused solely on Briar the way I have been since I found her in the kitchen.
An hour later and I’m still watching her as intently as I was when she was moving around my kitchen, cracking open every cupboard and drawer in her search of supplies.
The chicken soup cooling in the bowl in front of me smells better than anything we’ve ever made in this kitchen before.
Ronan dives into his immediately, the steam swirling above his bowl not deterring him.
Briar’s eyes twinkle with hope as she watches him.
“I enjoy it. Usually more when I get to cook for other people. Clover hogs that responsibility most of the time, so I’m stuck creating meals for one,” she answers me, still eyeing Ronan.
He’s like a dog who hasn’t been fed in weeks.
My mouth is gaping as he plows through the soup, barely chewing the chicken and vegetables before swallowing.
“I think it’s safe to say that you can cook for us anytime you want. If you give us the chance to do the same,” I say.
Ronan blinks, seemingly realizing how feral he appears and making a show of chewing his next spoonful.
It’s comical the way he tries to tame himself around Briar, as if she wasn’t watching him with complete devotion while he tore into his food.
I dip my spoon into the hot soup and load it up with a bit of everything before bringing it to my mouth.
The immediate burst of flavour on my tongue makes it easier to understand Ronan’s lack of table manners.
“This is really, really good,” Dash tells her, speaking my thoughts out loud.
“You didn’t have all the normal ingredients I would have used, but I tried my best. Maybe next time I come over, I can bring some of my own groceries?”
I swallow my mouthful and clear my throat when my stomach growls, demanding more.
“How about you just give us a list of what you need, and we’ll make sure it’s here for you.”
“That goes for anything,” Ronan adds.
Briar kneads her lip with her teeth and darts her eyes between all three of us.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to have any? We’ll devour the leftovers, but I don’t want you being hungry,” I say.
“I ate a big dinner, actually. Is Landon hungry? Or has he already eaten?”
My chest pangs.
“He hasn’t eaten.”
“Do you know where he is? I don’t mind bringing him something to eat.”
“You don’t have to do that. I can,” Dash offers.
Briar shakes her head, determined.
“No, I will. Where is he?”
“I told him to go to bed, but I didn’t think about him being hungry,” Dash says, wincing as he stares down at his bowl.
“He does need sleep. At least, he did the last time I saw him. Is it worse?” she asks, setting a hand over Dash’s and squeezing.
It’s such a subtle way of reassuring him.
A very omega way of offering support that means more to Dash than he’ll ever know how to explain.
Ronan sets his spoon in his empty bowl as I slip mine back into my mouth.
“Yeah, it’s worse. He’ll crash out hard one of these days,” he grunts.
“Where’s his bedroom?” Briar asks.
Swallowing, I accept that she won’t let this go.
If we’re being realistic here, she may be the best person to go up and see him right now, anyway.
While alphas can be overbearing and demanding, we’re not the top of the food chain in our society.
We’re naturally weak for omegas.
Our desire to provide for them and make them happy overpowers our natural need for control and power.
Landon can pretend he’s unmoved by Briar, but I feel it in my gut that he’d be the first to sacrifice himself for her.
Ronan meets my stare from the opposite end of the dining table, and I know he’s thinking the same thing I am.
We can only shove our instincts down so far before they come rushing back with a vengeance that we have no chance of stopping, and Landon might be closer to that outcome than he’s ready to accept.
“When you get upstairs, go straight down the first hall. His room is on the left,” I explain.
“Thank you.”
She releases Dash’s hand and moves to me before kissing my cheek and stepping up to the stove.
There’s an empty bowl already on the countertop, and she fills it to the rim.
With a spoon in her other hand, she turns to us, eyes falling on Ronan and his outrageous pout.
The corner of her mouth twitches before she goes up to him and plants a dramatic kiss on his cheek, like the one she laid on mine.
“Better?” she asks teasingly.
He makes a low noise in response and snakes a hand up to hold her waist, keeping her beside him.
When he stands, her head falls back on instinct.
“Almost,” Ronan mutters.
Instead of accepting her initial kiss, he takes her jaw in his hand and lays one on her mouth instead.
She falls into it without hesitation, and while I wish she were kissing me too, I don’t feel the sharp teeth of jealousy.
Instead, it’s yearning that overwhelms me.
With pink cheeks, Briar pulls back and adjusts her hold on the hot bowl.
Ronan keeps his dark eyes pinned on her, a million promises written within them that I’m sure both Dash and I feel as well.
“I’ll be back,” she squeaks, voice thick before she clears it.
I nod. “We’ll be here if you need us.”
“I know.”
And her confidence in us—in me—is more than enough.
brIAR
I feel as hot as the bowl I’m holding when I head up the staircase.
Kissing Ronan is indescribable in the best way, but doing it in front of both Dash and Jasper somehow ramps up the intensity.
Especially when neither of them said anything against it and instead .
. . watched with a shared intensity that was more attractive than anything I’ve ever witnessed before.
In pack relationships, obviously I know that sharing is a common thing.
But not once in my life have I gotten the chance to experience that.
During my heats, I’ve always gone to a clinic and requested a single alpha as opposed to one of the omegaless packs that volunteer.
I wanted to save that experience for my pack instead of wasting it on a group of strangers who wouldn’t find anything special in it.
My nipples peak in my bra as I try to control my breathing.
Lingering at the top of the staircase, I sniff the air to make sure I haven’t started perfuming too badly before attempting even one more step.
Perfuming in front of Landon would actually be my worst nightmare.
Luckily, my scent is only a bit sweeter than normal, so I keep walking.
The soup in my hands isn’t anything special, but I couldn’t not offer Landon anything.
My omega wouldn’t stop clawing at me the entire time I was cooking it, trying to get me to find and feed him.
I want to take care of Landon, even if he doesn’t want me to.
That either makes me na?ve or dedicated.
I’m not sure which is more accurate quite yet.
My heart rate kicks up with every door I pass.
Most of them are open, allowing me a brief look inside while the others have my mind running quickly to try and guess what’s hidden out of sight.
I wish I wasn’t so on edge because I’d love to do a bit of snooping to see which room belongs to which alpha.
Last room on the left, Briar .
Focus .
I’ve got this.
Landon might be ready to draw my blood at any given moment, but at least .
. . No, there’s not an at least here.
I stop in front of the door Jasper told me was Landon’s and gulp when his scent grows stronger than I’ve ever smelled it.
My head swims as I lift a hand and rap my knuckles across the door.
There’s not a single noise from inside the room.
I wait for another minute before growing worried.
With a glance back down the hall, I look at the rest of the doors, curious if I chose the wrong one.
Surely, I didn’t. This is the last door on the left, and there was only one hallway to take.
I knock again, a bit harder this time.
The inside of my cheek burns when I bite down on it hard enough to taste blood when he doesn’t answer again.
It’s possible that he didn’t go up to his room like the others thought, but there’s a force at my back, softly nudging me to go inside to make sure.
I squeeze my eyes shut and drop my hand to the doorknob before giving it a test twist. It goes all the way, unlocked.
With a gentle push, I open the door enough to get hit with a wall of vanilla and cinnamon.
My grip is slick on the doorknob as I grow hot beneath my skin.
I release it and rub my palms on my skirt.
Landon’s bedroom is exactly what I would have expected a grumpy alpha’s would look like.
The lights are off, but that doesn’t affect my ability to see the dark grey walls, drawn blackout curtains with the slightest gap between them, and gigantic bed pushed against the far wall.
It’s fitted with a thick, black duvet thrown aside messily from the two singular pillows, as if someone jumped out from beneath without tucking it back in.
A small sliver of light spills onto the floor beside the bed, acting like a beacon.
I glance down at the bowl of soup in my hands and then to the two-door nightstand on the side of the bed with the thrown-back duvet.
Tossing all caution to the wind, I set the bowl down atop it and head for the light.
My socks cushion my steps on the hardwood as I creep toward the cracked open door and pause, my eyes catching on the reflection in the mirror hung on the wall beyond it.
Breathing is suddenly a foreign concept.
Worry mixes with desire so sharp I can taste it.
I battle off the latter and step inside, focusing on the man asleep in the tub.
“Landon?”
It’s hot enough in the bathroom for steam to appear thick in the air as I move to the soaker tub planted in the centre of the room.
It’s impossible not to blush as I keep my eyes above the clear water.
He shouldn’t be sleeping in here.
Especially when he’s alone on the second floor with nobody to keep an eye on him.
It’s reckless, and as my frustration blooms, I have to focus on not waking him up and demanding he go to his bed.
But how am I supposed to do that right now?
When for the first time since I’ve met him, he isn’t scowling or demanding I leave him alone?
His eyes are shut peacefully, and the frown lines that live in his forehead are smoothed out for once.
The lips that are always formed around his blunt, cold words are relaxed, parted with his steady breaths.
The hard edge of the tub digs into the back of his neck, but I doubt he feels it.
I’m not sure he feels much of anything right now.
With his black hair and naked upper chest completely dry, it doesn’t look like he got much washing done before he fell asleep.
If that was why he got in the bath at all.
Continuing to keep my gaze above the water, I take the chance to simply stare at him without his eyes on me, too intense to handle without growing nervous.
With his shoulders as wide as the tub, he has his arms draped over both sides of it, big hands hanging loose.
One knee is bent, popping out of the water.
The purple and yellow bruises mottling the otherwise pale skin are concerning, and before I can talk myself out of it, I’m reaching out to touch them.
My breath hitches when my fingertips brush the hot skin.
Despite the dark hair, it’s smooth.
I force my hand back to my side and stare at the small stool in the corner of the room.
It’s like I’m running on autopilot as I grab it and set it beside the tub, sitting beside the alpha who every cell of my genetic makeup says is mine.
As if sensing that he’s not alone anymore, Landon sighs in his sleep, his fingers flexing and reaching through the air.
I swallow, my throat tight and dry when they narrowly miss my bare calf.
It’s completely silent in the bathroom besides our breathing when I dip my fingers into the tub by his shoulder to test the temperature of the water.
I’m relieved that it’s still warm.
As long as he isn’t alone, he should stay asleep for as long as possible.
His head rolls along the back of the tub toward me as he groans again, this time sounding like he’s in pain.
The scrunch of his nose and brows poke at something sensitive between my ribs.
It’s a summoning that I’m too weak to ignore.
With bated breath, I bring my fingers to his hair, giving the thick strands a test stroke.
They’re silky and strong, curling between my fingers and tickling my palms.
“Briar,” he mumbles, the sound of my name on his lips shooting like an arrow through my chest as he relaxes once again.
I freeze, a hand still buried in his hair.
A moment passes, then another without him moving before I can get myself to continue.
He doesn’t really know I’m here, even if his subconscious recognizes my touch.
Inhaling, I let his scent wrap around every inch of me, inside and out, bottom to top.
The peace that greets me is yet another reminder that I’m exactly where I need to be.
I have to believe that there will be another chance for us to be close like this again when he’s awake and can witness how good it feels to accept the pull that keeps trying to yank us together.
Once he does . . . everything will change.