The Living Room #2
She stands in the middle of the small room, turning slowly as she scans the shelves, fingers trailing over boxes and jars while she searches. Cass’s shirt hangs loose on her frame, hiding her gorgeous body as she shifts her weight, completely focused on finding something specific.
I clear my throat. “Looking for something?”
She startles slightly, then turns, surprise giving way to a smile when she sees me.
“Hey.” She tucks a curl back behind her ear, eyes dropping to the shelf at her side like it’s suddenly very important.
“I was trying to find the honey,” she says.
“I assumed it would be in here, but I can’t find it, even though everything’s so…
organized.” There’s a little laugh in her voice, quiet and self-conscious. “I don’t want to mess anything up.”
“You won’t mess it up,” I say, stepping inside and nudging the door a little farther open with my shoulder.
The space immediately feels smaller, warmer.
Her scent is everywhere in here now, soft and sweet, and I have to curl my fingers into my palm to keep from touching her.
"Beck will survive if something is moved.
He may require therapy and a quiet space to grieve the disorganization, but as a pack, we will persevere. "
That earns me a shy smile from the omega. She glances up at me through her lashes, then back to the shelves. “He’s very organized for someone with ADHD.”
“He is with some things,” I agree, leaning against the opposite shelf, our knees almost brushing.
I’m painfully aware of how close she is, how easily I could reach out and touch her.
Maybe even kiss her. “He gets hyper-focused on things, but after a few months, his attention fades, and he moves on to something else.” I snort as a memory hits me.
“I wish you had been here for his closet reorganization obsession. His plan was to have brand-new drawers, racks, and color-coordinated baskets in every room in this house. He redid two, then quit.” I laugh.
Tansy’s mouth quirks, her eyes narrowed with disbelief.
“If you don’t believe me, you should see his room.” My smile grows. “It’s filled with all the projects he never finished. He’s the most ambitious procrastinator in the world, and I fucking love him for it.”
Tansy giggles, then she looks away like she’s suddenly very interested in the labels on the shelves, and that’s when I spot the honey tucked up high.
I reach past her without thinking, slow and deliberate. The space between us disappears.
Tansy tips her head back so she can see my face, her body caged between my torso and the shelves behind her. I’m close enough to feel the warmth of her body, the faint scent of her skin, and I’m acutely aware of every inch of air I’m displacing. She stills, shoulders tight, breath shallow.
I grab the jar, then lower my arm, but I don’t move back. I hold it out to her. “Here.”
Tansy takes it from me, her fingertips brushing against mine, sending a shock straight up my arm. Her cheeks flush, and her eyes widen a little. Something about that look, vulnerable and wanting, hits me so much harder than it should.
Then she whispers, “Thank you.”
Her voice is fragile, soft in a way that cracks something open in my chest.
My gaze drops from her wide eyes to her lips, parted slightly. The air crackles between us, thick with unspoken words and a tension. I can’t stop myself.
I lean in slowly, deliberately, giving her every chance to pull away, to stop me. She doesn’t. She stays right there, eyes locked on mine, her breath hitching as her body trembles faintly.
Then I press my lips to hers.
I kiss her gently, cherishing this moment for as long as I can.
Her lips are warm and soft against mine. Her breath coming out in jerky little pants. I’m not sure if it’s from excitement or nerves, so I cautiously hold back.
My hand comes up to cup her jaw, slow and unthreatening, my thumb stroking the sweet skin there. I taste her, a hint of honey and something uniquely Tansy, and I let out a low, contented rumble.
This is what I’ve been starving for.
This quiet, intimate moment where the world shrinks to the two of us.
Tansy lets out the quietest whimper, and I pull back enough to breathe.
Her eyes are dark and bright all at once, lashes fluttering and cheeks flushed like she’s been warmed from the inside out. She looks dazed in the sweetest way.
I lift my thumb again, brushing it along her cheekbone, memorizing the way she leans into the touch without even thinking about it.
“You’re so beautiful,” I say, my words coming out rougher than I mean them to.
Tansy’s breath stutters at that, and she ducks her head, shy, but I don’t let her disappear completely.
My fingers slide lower, finding the thick braid draped over her shoulder.
I wrap it slowly around my hand, feeling the weight of it, the softness.
It feels intimate in a way I hadn’t expected, like she’s trusting me with something precious.
Then I slowly tug, making her lift her head.
“You okay?” I ask quietly.
“Um.” She rocks from one foot to the other like she’s uncomfortable, then her expression shifts.
It’s subtle. A tightening around her eyes.
Then her shoulders pull in, like she’s suddenly realized how small the room is and how close I am. Her smile fades and the scent of fear fills my lungs.
My stomach drops.
Fuck.
I release Tansy’s braid instantly, my hand falling away as I step back a full pace. Then another. “I’m sorry.” I reach for the pantry door, opening it wide, then lift my hand in a clear, open gesture. “You must be hungry.”
Tansy freezes.
For half a second, she doesn’t move at all, like her body is bracing for something horrible. Her eyes flicker to my hands, to the open doorway, to the space I’ve put between us. Confusion crosses her face first. Then disbelief.
I don’t say a word. I stay put.
Then slowly, cautiously, she shifts her weight. Her shoulders stay tucked in as she inches toward the door, like she’s not entirely convinced I won’t change my mind at the last second and attack her. She ducks her head as she passes me, braid slipping over her shoulder, gaze fixed on the floor.
I hold my breath until she’s clear of me.
Only then do I move, turning slightly so my body is angled away, making the path unmistakably open. I don’t follow her. I let her go, even though every instinct in me wants to stay close.
She slips out into the kitchen, pauses there for a heartbeat, staring at my face, before she walks off.
I’m left standing in the pantry, heart pounding, wondering what the hell scared her.
Was it me?
Was I too aggressive?
I thought omegas liked aggressive….
I shake the thought from my head, then move to the kitchen island where Tansy is getting her breakfast ready. The open space seems to help. Her shoulders loosen a little, and her breathing evens out.
“Hey,” I say quietly as she turns, getting a bowl. “Are you sure you’re okay? Did I say or do something wrong?”
“No,” she says quickly, fingers hovering over a drawer before she pulls it open for a spoon. “I just—” She cuts herself off, brow furrowing like she’s trying to find the right words. “I’m just being weird.”
I step to the other side of the island, deliberately putting it between us. She clearly needs space right now. “I’m sorry if I scared you back there. I didn't mean to be pushy or anything like that.”
Her brows knit, confusion flickering across her face. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” She opens the fridge and pulls out a container of blueberries and a tub of yogurt. “I think I just…” she shakes her head as she sets everything on the island. “I panicked, I guess.”
I nod, even though it twists something low in my chest. I don’t like her answer. It’s filled with a million unsaid things, but I don’t want to push. “Okay.”
Tansy presses her mouth into a thin smile, then gets to work on her breakfast. She scoops yogurt into the bowl, movements a little clumsy, like her hands are still shaking. I reach for the berries on the counter and slide them closer to her without a word, keeping my fingers clear of hers.
“Thank you,” she murmurs.
She drizzles the honey slowly, watching it spill in thick, golden ribbons across the yogurt. When she speaks again, her voice is quieter, more thoughtful. “You and Grason are very different than I thought you’d be.”
I still. “Different?”
She adds the berries one by one, arranging them carefully before she answers. “I always thought alphas were supposed to be forceful. You know, aggressive.” Her voice drops to a whisper, “Mean.”
Her words sit heavy between us, and my jaw tightens before I can stop it. “Did they teach you that at Danvers?”
Tansy shrugs, small and helpless. “It’s just what I’ve seen.”
I don’t know what to do with the anger that flares in my chest. It’s so sharp and sudden, but I push it down, keeping my voice even. “Not all alphas are like that.”
“I know,” she says quickly, glancing up at me. “Or, I’m starting to.”
“You know,” I angle my head down, trying to look smaller, less intimidating, “if you want space or don’t want to be touched, all you have to do is say the word, and I’ll back off.”
Her eyes widen at that. “Really?”
“Yes,” I say without hesitation.
Tansy blinks, clearly caught off guard. A small, genuine smile flickers across her face, like what I said means more to her than she expected. Her shoulders loosen, and she lets out a slow breath.
But then her gaze drops, and that sweet smile fades. Not all at once. But gently, leaving behind something quieter. Sadder.
Tansy stares down at the bowl in front of her, thumb tracing the rim as her eyes soften.
“Hey, you got sad again.” I resist the urge to reach out and touch her. It’s fucking agony.
“I didn’t mean to,” she forces a fake smile. “It’s hard to find alphas who are actually nice.”
I narrow my eyes on her pretty face. “What do you mean?” I ask softly, even though I want to demand she tell me immediately who the fuck hurt her. But I keep my anger in check. For her.
“I don’t know,” Tansy shrugs, then shakes her head.
“I mean, it’s not just alphas. Even betas,” she adds, like she feels silly admitting it.
Her fingers tighten around the spoon. “There was a guy at the black market. He touched me in a way that was…” she shudders like she can feel his hands on her right now. “He was gross.”
My vision goes sharp around the edges. Every muscle in my body locks down, fury slamming into me so fast it almost steals my breath. I force myself to stay still, to keep my voice level.
“What was his name?” I ask.
She shrugs again, trying to brush it off. “It’s not important. It was just some random guy.”
“Tansy,” I say gently, not letting it go. “Tell me.”
She hesitates, then frowns like she’s pulling the memory apart. “He was young. I think in his twenties.” Her eyes flicker up, then they widen slightly. “Zack,” she says, like she just remembered. “His name was Zack.”
The name burns itself into my head. My body is wound tight with the urge to hunt him down and make him regret ever putting his hands on her. It takes everything I have not to let that rage bleed into my face.
“What did he look like?” I ask, keeping my voice cool and collected.
Tansy looks at me like I just asked the most ridiculous question. “Why? Are you going to beat him up?”
I let out an easy laugh, not wanting to scare her again. “I want to contact the Morder. Warn them.”
Tansy’s eyes go wide, and she nods like that makes sense.
“I don’t really remember what he looked like.
” Her eyes drift over the counter in front of her.
“Bleach blond hair.” She frowns like she’s trying to picture him.
“And a scar over one eye.” She lifts her hand, touching the side of her temple.
“It went through his eyebrow. I think.” Her hand falls, and she lets out a heavy sigh.
“I don’t know. Everything was kind of a blur. ”
I smile at her, so proud that she remembered so much, especially considering how drugged she was. “That’s okay," I say, before glancing down at her breakfast. “Would you like some granola to go with that?”
Tansy blinks, caught off guard. “Um. Yes, please.” She picks up her bowl, then stops. She slowly looks up at me, those big brown eyes sparkling, “Do you want to sit with me?”
My smile grows. “Of course.”
And for the first time since I walked into the pantry, her smile reaches her eyes.