Chapter 35 Tessa
TESSA
Confused, I took a few hesitant steps towards the pantry.
On the opposite side of the island, Ryder, Dixon, and Mac also moved.
Tray’s redwood-thick body nearly filled the doorframe.
He was still laughing loudly, body shaking in the throes of unrestrained joy.
We all waited in bemusement until his outburst began to calm.
“Well, what the fuck is it?” Dixon gave his pack brother a gentle push from behind.
“My parents,” Tray hiccuped out the words without turning around, “would have a field day with this feline.” Still chuckling, he stepped back and moved to the side so we could see the disaster zone.
The entire pantry floor was coated in powdery white.
An industrial mason jar, or rather the corpse of one, rested slap dab in the middle of the sea of flour.
I knew it was flour, because of the pretty black label.
Josie was rolling around making kitten angels like it was Christmas in California.
My eyes checked quickly for any glass shards near her, but amazingly all the busted glass seemed to be neatly imploded next to the mason jar. Maximum mess, minimal danger.
“Oh, no,” I stepped forward quickly, taking responsibility. “God, I’m so sorry. I’ll clean it up. I promise she’s not a bad cat. I’ll make sure she doesn’t do anything like this again.”
They’re going to take her away from me, my brain screamed. Let them try. I’ll disappear for real. They’ll never freaking find me. Great, go be homeless again, Tessa. You should have watched Josie better. You’re so damn stupid.
“Do you have a broom?” Anxiously, I looked at the mess.
“No, maybe a vacuum would be better? I’ll get the glass first.” Spinning, I took one step towards the cabinet where Dixon had gotten the trash bag.
Before I could move further, firm hands clamped around my shoulders and forced me to stay in place.
“Tessa, it’s just flour,” Ryder’s soothing voice, dropped into his signature low frequency that made his singing style so distinctive, made my heart pang.
“The mason jar broke,” I countered stupidly, because it wasn’t just flour. It was… it was Josie. It was the possibility of losing my family.
“Yeah, so what?” I could hear the shrug in his words, and it confused me.
I tried to peer over my shoulder. I needed to see if the sincerity in his voice matched the look in his eyes.
I was at the wrong angle though. I could only see Mac behind him to the left.
Taking a deep breath, I slowly reversed course.
Ryder kept touching my body, flattening his hands so his palms could trace over me as I twirled.
When I was facing him, his fingers curled around my shoulders once more.
“There is nothing,” he said fiercely, “that you or Josie could do that would make us change our minds.”
“Your minds about what?” I murmured; my eyes trailed away from his face to land, one-by-one, on the three others watching me. Each pair of eyes stared back steadily, offering me longing and reassurance.
“About wanting you to make our pack whole, Tessa. Wanting you to be our Omega. We’re already yours, can’t you tell?
The second you stepped out of that limo, you had us hooked.
” He took one hand from my body, lifting it to cup my chin and tilt my face up to stare directly into his stunning honey eyes.
“I know it’s too soon for you to believe that, but we’re going to do everything we can to convince you. ”
“I can’t live without Josie,” I whimpered back. “The contract changes only said she could stay if she didn’t—”
“We don’t give a shit about that contract,” Dixon cut in.
“She’s part of our pack too,” Mac promised.
“And someone can take Josie over my dead body,” Tray quipped. “I've waited my whole life for a pet.”
“I don’t believe any of this is real.” I shook my head, closing my eyes tightly. I refused to cry again.
“Oh, it’s real, Tessa.” Ryder’s voice floated into the darkness behind my lids. The silky sound of his words weeded into my cortex. It’s real. It’s real, Tessa.
I sensed him getting closer, but I couldn’t part my lashes.
I needed to stay, just a moment longer, in a sightless sanctuary.
I knew what was happening when his warm breath first tickled my forehead.
I didn’t move as he lowered further, cinnamon breath continuing to whisper against my face.
Automatically I tensed when I felt the way he hovered, finally in position.
But I didn’t want him to read my body language as a sign to retreat.
I opened my eyes. He was so close. Dangerously close. His eyes glowed like sunlight through amber, revealing secrets hardened by time.
Though I’d once thought I would never kiss this man again, that I’d never want to kiss him again, I gave a barely perceptible nod of permission.
Ryder studied me for a moment. This wasn’t like the concert.
This wasn’t a five-alarm fire that could only be quenched by reckless abandon.
This was a spark, one that had to be fanned gently, and fed carefully if we wanted to create something capable of warming us for a lifetime.
“Just kiss me,” I finally whispered, unable to wait even a millisecond longer.
He didn’t need to be invited twice.
Tenderly, he pressed his lips against mine.
The kiss was everything I didn’t know I’d needed—sweet, but also unyielding, passionate, but also carefully controlled.
It ignited something deep within me, something I’d buried a long time ago.
As his soft lips moved against mine, I felt the first pieces of my armor slip.
And that was why I placed my hands on his chest and pushed him away.
It was too much, too soon. Despite all the pretty words and promises, I’d learned that everything could change in a snap of fingers.
I felt breathless, chest rising and falling erratically as I plummeted from the high of being kissed for the first time since that concert, since forever.
Mac cleared his throat. I looked over, finding his hand tightly wrapped around Dixon’s wrist as if he’d needed to hold him back.
I focused on Dixon. His face had gone slack with need, an expression so different from the intense, guard dog energy he’d exuded since my arrival.
The sight of him in this way made something fracture inside of me.
My Omega nature flared, glands releasing an intense burst of scent as if they wanted to soothe his desire.
When the aroma reached Dixon, his eyes fluttered closed and he inhaled deeply.
Mac let go of Dixon’s wrist as he too became afflicted with my body’s special brand of aromatherapy.
Mac shook his head roughly before retreating from the kitchen.
Dixon opened his eyes, gaze locking with mine before he ran one large hand down the front of his pants.
I followed his movements, eye widening at the bulge forming between his legs.
When I lifted my head, Dixon shot me a satisfied grin before following Mac out.
I couldn’t see Tray... but I could still smell him. He wasn’t far, maybe in the pantry.
Ryder leaned back down to me, pressing his cheek to mine and pitching his voice low so only I could hear.
“If you do that again, it won’t just be Dixon who can’t control himself.”
“I didn’t mean to,” I admitted quietly, biting my lower lip. “I could feel his need and it’s like my body had to respond.”
“Oh, you definitely responded. And he’s probably continuing his response in another room right this second.
” Ryder turned his face to trace his lips across my cheek before standing up.
He must have seen the confusion I was feeling plastered on my face, because he clarified.
“What you just did was like… putting on exactly the right porn for each one of us. Your scent hits our Alpha and takes shape in specific, arousing ways. Hell, I haven’t seen Dixon smile like that in months. ”
“But I didn’t do anything on purpose,” I shook my head.
“You haven’t been around many Alphas since getting your heat, have you?” He quirked one dark eyebrow curiously.
“Yes, I have,” I protested, feeling like he was judging my inexperience. “At my parents’ parties. I was always surrounded by Alphas.”
“Let me guess,” Ryder smirked, “Alphas your age?”
My eyes narrowed, before dragging out a one-word reply. “Maybe.”
“Trust me when I say that teenage Alphas, aren’t real Alphas.”
Before I could figure out a clever response—since admittedly I’d never once been attracted to any of the guys my age, given that they’d all smelled like stale booze and greasy food to my immature Omega—Tray’s voice busted through the rising banter.
Apparently, my overzealous scent had taken its time wafting towards him.
Ryder moved behind me, unblocking my view so we could both stare at Oblivion Haze’s resident drummer and jokester.
“Daaaaammmmmnnn.” He strode out of the pantry, flour-covered Josie cradled in his arms, “Fire our dealer. Tessa’s the only fix we’ll ever need.”
“Your… dealer?” I really hoped he didn’t mean what I thought.
“Just kidding,” he grinned mischievously, dimples cratering, “We’ve never done drugs.
Not once. We’re the picture of sobriety.
Write all our hits fueled by decaf coffee and dreams.” Tray jostled Josie around gently, then pretended to jot something down on his open palm.
“Note to self, actually fire nonexistent drug dealer.”
I didn’t believe him, not one bit. And I’d have told him so, if Josie hadn’t sneezed loudly and distracted me.
A cloud of white powder puffed off her furry body and floated down over Tray’s body.
Josie had the absolute nerve to look at me in horror afterwards, as if she didn’t remember exactly how she’d ended up covered in flour.