Chapter Thirty-One Gideon
Gideon
Quest is Gideon’s point of pride. He prefers to say that he’s built it out , not up, because that implies that what had existed before had lesser worth; no, Quest had been built out of something small in size but not in value.
Leaving his forest and the smoldering ruin that was his mother’s pyre, he’d made his way to Nashville in the backs of trucks, over long hours running on his own two feet, and with the desire to be somewhere, he could find his fated mates and be found by them. It wasn’t long before he could feel the city noises pressing in on him, and he sorely missed his connection to the rivers, sky, and animals he’d left behind. He could feel his grief more acutely as well among the crowds and chaos, and it was unsurprising that the lessons he’d learned as a child at his father’s knee were waiting to usurp the serenity he’d gained.
Landing in one of the world’s largest cities with only a backpack of his clothes and a tattered recipe book from his mother, Gideon had known he would be hard-pressed to find work without a place to sleep and bathe, and he couldn’t find a place to sleep and bathe without work.
So, he’d prayed to The Goddess, as he always did when he needed direction.
The money he’d had from his mother’s meager stash had not gone very far, so with only a few dollars left on his first day in the city. He’d sat down at the counter of a little hole-in-the-wall eatery. There’d been no signage, only the most interesting of smells emanating from the window.
A tiny beta man by the name of Oscar was serving chili in large bowls, and Gideon used the last of his money to buy a bowl. He’ll never know why Oscar offered him a second bowl or exactly what he saw in him, but when Gideon had commented on the pinch of cinnamon in the dish, he’d raised his eyebrows, peered into his soul, and promptly offered him a job and the room over the little diner.
The room hadn’t been large; it contained only a single bed, a bathroom, and a place to keep his mother’s recipe book. It had provided sanctuary for the soon-to-be alpha—a stage on which to try those recipes and a place to dream a little in the quiet hours of the night after closing, of his mates—of who and where they might be.
Over the following years, the small seating area grew to include the newly vacant space next door, people drawn to Gideon’s cooking and innovative take on old classics, and then again, when Oscar handed him the deed and told him not to fuck it up. Gideon had promptly had Quest painted on a new sign—an homage to his search for his Goddess-given mates—and invested every penny he had saved into expanding his new restaurant into something he could be proud of, while still living above the kitchen in that single room.
Running his own kitchen at twenty-five meant that, more often than not, he met someone who might think he wasn’t capable or staff who thought he wasn’t serious about his craft or his ambition. Occasionally, even customers would take it upon themselves to critique his food as if it weren’t his fucking kitchen and his fucking food. He tried to let it roll off his back as you can’t please everyone, and the only person he could be sure to please was himself.
One week before Christmas, during what must be one of the busiest times of the year, his front-of-house manager came into the kitchen with a look on her face that said Gideon would not like a single word she had to say.
“Maureen, spit it out. What now?” Christmas did not inspire his patrons to be kind, and in fact, they got even more entitled and picky. ‘Tis the season to be an asshole.
“There’s an enthusiastically unhappy customer in the private room with a complaint about your panna cotta.” She looks at the napkin in her hand. “He says, and I quote: ‘ Who the fuck puts fucking cilantro in panna cotta .’” The nearby staff gasps under their breath, and not one of them is brave enough to make eye contact except Maureen. There is not, in fact, fucking cilantro in his buttermilk panna cotta.
Dumbass.
“Anything else?”
“Oh, yeah.”
He finally stops dealing with the Wagyu beef he’s been seasoning, so he can lay both hands on the stainless steel countertop. “Don’t stop now.”
She takes a tiny step back out of range, of what, Gideon doesn’t know, but turns the napkin over to read, “ If he doesn’t fucking know how to make it, I could go back there and teach him …uh…wait oh, here it is– a fucking thing or two. ” The entire kitchen is quiet except for the cooking noises.
Gideon’s annoyance at an uppity customer turns into downright anger. Fucking Dumbass . “Alright. Bring him back.”
“What?!”
“If he thinks he can do better, bring him back here and let him tell me to my face and show me what he’d do differently. Everyone back to work!”
“Are you serious? Chef, he’s got his mates with him, I think, and two or three of them are bigger than you. They’re celebs, too. Britney was beside herself earlier.”
“It’s my fucking establishment, Mo, and he wants to talk shit. He can come back here and do it to my face. Go.” With a wry shake of her head, she heads back to the VIP room for her erstwhile customer.
Gideon hears him before he sees him, talking to his mate undoubtedly. “Jay quit it. He fucked up, and I’m just going to tell him how he can do better, you know? Just stay out here. Let me do this myself, fuck.”
Maureen comes in, wide-eyed, and holds the door open for…
Gideon’s mate.
His bond slams into place when he makes eye contact with the most beautiful boy he has ever seen: wild hair bleached blond, deep dark eyes, and a heart-shaped mouth hanging open in shock.
This is what they meant when they said time stands still. Everything fades away except this. Gideon forgets about his Wagyu, his anger, and maybe even his name. He’s out from behind the workspace and holding the boy’s hand before he even has a chance to say, “What’s your name?”
He’s still only slightly less overwhelmed than the mocha-scented boy, who bursts into tears, throws himself into Gideon’s arms, and kisses him within an inch of his life. Gideon is a lot of things, but a fool isn’t one of them, and he kisses his as-of-yet-nameless mate right back. Beef burning and kitchen staff hooting, Maureen finally steers them into Gideon’s office and closes the door.
“Name.” Kiss. “What’s your name, pretty?” Kiss. So many kisses, messy with snot and spit, and Gideon couldn’t possibly care less.
Luca had stopped crying long enough to tell him his name and repeat his own back to him every time he broke away to look him in the eyes. Gideon, Gideon, Gideon. The topic of panna cotta and the fucking cilantro hadn’t come up the entire time Luca had straddled his lap in his office, but lots of things had.
“Gideon. So handsome, fuck. And you smell so good. Rain and Thunder. Mmm.” They’ve finally settled on the couch and Gideon has shed his chef’s coat for his t-shirt when there’s a knock. Nose in the air, Luca turns to him with a bit of worry fresh on his pretty face.
“Sugar,” he says, and Gideon wants to hear that for the rest of his life. Then he smells them.
“Mates?” Gideon asks, and Luca nods. “Five?” Surprised, he nods again. But Gideon remembers what The Goddess had said: six will find you.
“Can I let them in? They will want to meet you, too.” Gideon knows suddenly that he isn’t ready for these six new people in his life; that even though his Goddess has sent him his fated mates, he’s not prepared for them. Maybe they’ll find him weird or scary or not like his scent. He’s not easy to like and even harder to get to know. Luca must see his panic and read his heart; yes, his heart, not his mind.
He’s 100% sure that Luca will always know his heart. “It’ll be okay, Sugar. They’re going to love you.”
Gideon puts his faith in the Goddess and his first mate and says the words that change his lonely life into one filled with magic. In the two months that followed, each of his new mates made the effort to “date” him, and he, them. Gifts of food, time, and tokens of affection made the transition into a pack of seven surprisingly smooth for someone who had previously maintained he did not like people.
BBQ dinners with Rowan, who took extra pleasure in making him pay for the meal and in winding him up with incendiary kisses. Daily workouts and, once, a hideously romantic—and treasured—indoor picnic at the arboretum with Leo, who had memorized the language of flowers to confess his adoration. Gideon still has those flowers pressed in a book of poetry at home beside his bed.
Art shows and after-hours cooking lessons with Grayson, where they spent most of their time feeding each other bits of food so they could kiss fingertips and drink wine from soft lips. Some of his favorite moments were when Gideon would bring lunch to Finn while he was on his break during his internship at the hospital, where they’d talk about music and books, finding a shared love of living things of all kinds.
He learned most about his new pack (and himself) during long walks with Jay, talking about what the future of their pack might look like, learning that he might not always need to carry the heaviest burdens by himself, and about the dark things in their pasts; about their lost mate, Nix.
But mostly, it was his time with Luca that convinced him that living as a pack would be the only way his life could ever be fulfilling. By the end of the third month, Gideon had been sure that the other boy was his soulmate, connected and bound by a nuanced array of commonalities and complementary differences.
He loved each of his mates with a love that could not easily be put into words, so he often didn’t. But with Luca, the words ‘I love you’ weren’t hard to say at all. In fact, it was not saying them that was hardest.
Shortly after the pack bonded as seven—on a night that would forever remain the pinnacle of Gideon’s sexual experiences—and at the end of a week spent at home to solidify their bond, the pack members had returned to their day jobs. But Gideon found he couldn’t be separated from Luca for any significant length of time. On the first day Gideon tried to return to work, Luca had even exhibited signs of a broken bond.
So, they worked around it. After a month, they were able to tolerate short periods of separation, but only for a few hours or a few miles at most.
The question as to why he and Luca, and not Rowan or Jay or any of his other wonderful mates, still sits in the back of Gideon’s mind, but he’s never been one to obsess over a problem that has no answer. He prefers to deal with the practical.
He spends as much time with Luca as their schedules allow, even carving out time to be with each other inside their schedules. Luca sits at the restaurant some nights and works from home in the studio with Gideon on the lumpy old couch from their music show days (it’s seen more action than is probably sanitary, but Jay simply refuses to part with it).
It’s a good life, and he lives and loves his partnership with Luca inside and alongside his relationships with each of his mates. It’s what the soul bond means to him, and it’s evidence enough that it exists in all its glory.
Gideon wakes rested and he can just see Luca’s sunrise alarm clock beside his bed, and it’s going on 6:00 PM. Running a hand down his soulmate’s smooth spine, Gideon feels a swell of affection so deep, so beautiful, he has to take another minute to revel in it before he gets up.
“If you keep that up, sugar…” Luca hums groggily. His normally clear voice is raspy from the begging—and maybe the shouting. Gideon thinks he might ask Jay to get that exact tone on a track after Luca’s been fucked hard. It could be the soundtrack to his life.
“Come on, honey, let’s shower, and you can watch me make dinner.” He’s on his feet, hoisting his complaining mate to his feet when he remembers.
Luca and he both go wide-eyed. “Nix!”
Luca dashes toward the door. “Luca Wilde, stop. You are covered in come, and you have to wear a shirt, at the very least.”
“Oh, come on,” he whines. “Nix is here. I’ll just say hello, and then I can come right back. And besides, Jay doesn’t always wear a shirt. It’s not fair.” His wheedling tone should not be cute.
“He may not, but he is wearing pants—most of the time. You can choose.” Gideon knows what his choice will be and already has an extra shirt in hand, together with sweats and a t-shirt for himself.
Sighing, Luca stomps his foot. “Fine. Shirt then. But no boxers. I am in my own home, and I cannot abide…” Gideon nods and ushers him into his en suite bathroom, turning on the shower.
“I know, baby, in you go.” Gideon soothes, washing his soulmate’s hair and running his hands over this beautiful part of his heart that lives outside of his body. Luca is still rambling about the injustices forced upon him in his own home, but he’s willing to make exceptions for his baby, at least until Nix gets used to it.
“What if Nix likes to go no-pants, too? We could be without pants all the time and I would have someone else who is on my side. It would be so nice.” His love gives a pained sigh.
“Luca, you act like we complain all the time. I can assure you that we have never complained about seeing your perfect ass in this house, not one time.”
“Well, not out loud, maybe, but…”
“Not one time. Be pants-less 100% of the time as long as we don’t have guests.”
“See?! There you go! Always qualifiers. Why does the world hate me and my perfect ass?”
Gideon knows he is going to get nowhere fast because Luca is anxious and managing it with his tirade.
As soon as Gideon stops arguing, the beta huffs and pitches forward and latches onto Gideon’s nipple, using his hand to perk up the pec it’s sitting on. Letting the hot water run over them, Gideon allows Luca to settle as he needs, occasionally running hands over his sore ass just to hear him moan a bit.
“Come on. Let’s go see our boy, yeah?”
Luca is much calmer when Gideon dries him off and slides his longest t-shirt over his beautiful body; he even lets Gideon dry his hair.
“Do you think he still remembers me? That he still likes me?”
There it is—the source of his anxiety.
“First, you haven’t been away from him that long for him to have forgotten you. And second, there’s nothing you could do that would make anyone not like you. You’re my perfect boy.” Luca just grunts and crosses his arms.
“But Jay told him about us. What about that? What if he doesn’t like me now ?”
Gideon had wondered how much of the story Jay might have covered in their absence. He would hate to step into it mid-explanation and set off the new Were—or worse—if they hadn’t covered all of it. It would make sense to parse it out in manageable bits and pieces, even though, personally, Gideon prefers the “rip the bandaid off in one fell swoop” approach.
“If Nix is mad, then it’s not with you. Think about how you would feel if you had all those bad things happen and woke up differently without it being your decision. Consent is important, yeah? So if he’s mad, we’ll be understanding and give him what he says he needs.”
Speaking of what Nix needs, maybe his pack texted to let him know what that might be, or at least what the fallout might be.
Checking his phone, he sees a text from Rowan
2:43 PM - from Ro
Where are you? You’re missing this
5:25 PM - from Ro
Grayson and Nix are like whoa
Whatever whoa means. Rowan was always cryptic in his texts, claiming it helped him cultivate his air of mystery and helped with his rizz . Goddess save us all, because that boy does not need more rizz.
Pushing down his anticipation, Gideon boops Luca on the nose with a smile. “Let’s go see what’s happening, but maybe Nix doesn’t know everything. So let’s not say too much, okay? Until we get the lay of the land.”
“Okay, waiting and seeing if Nix still loves me, and we can eat ice cream and not wear pants until he’s not mad. Got it.” Always the master of the parting shot, he’s out the door and down the hall, peeking over the balcony into the living area. “Whoa!” He whispers, frantically waving him over and Gideon has got to see for himself.
Grayson is lying on the couch, covered by a sleeping angel. Nix’s hand is curled under his chin, ear over Grayson’s heart, and they are so still Gideon can’t tell if Grayson is asleep as well. Huh. That went better than Gideon had hoped. Grayson does not look worse for the wear, and he genuinely hopes Rowan would have mentioned it if he’d challenged Jay for his position as Nix’s alpha.
Gideon is no hypocrite and, with a tiny grimace, is quick to remember what sent him running from the hospital this afternoon; he just hopes he can keep himself under the same admirable control.
“Come on, I want to snuggle too.”
He barely grasps the back of Luca’s t-shirt, who’s squirming to get away. “Luca, you will not disturb them. Nix needs his sleep, and you need to let them be.” It’s not a request, so Luca deflates. Gideon might feel bad for stopping his mate from easing his anxiety in an omega-scented puppy pile, but by the time he makes it downstairs to the kitchen, Luca has his sass back.
“Next time, I’m getting Nix-snuggles and I get to be on the bottom.” He beelines to Jay for a kiss and smacks Leo’s butt as he passes by. Gideon marvels again at how good Luca is at loving people.
From his position at the breakfast bar, Rowan is trying (and failing) to be unobtrusive as he watches his mates sleeping on the couch while still making sure he’s not missing out on taste-testing tidbits in the kitchen, where Jay is trying to make something edible. He’s not the only one to snort at Luca’s joke.
“Luca…”
“Don’t say it, Ro. I know. Ha-fucking-ha. Now kiss me.” He makes his usual big kissy lips and loud smacking noises as Rowan pretends to get away while holding the beta to his enormous frame by his ass cheeks.
Gideon puts his chin on Jay’s shoulder, careful of the bandage he knows is under his shirt, to see if he can decipher whether he should step in so they don’t starve. “What hellish repast have you prepared for us tonight?”
“Ha-fucking-ha,” Jay echoes. “Uh…I don’t know.” He distractedly scoops up meat and broth with his spoon, and Gideon thinks he spots a chili or two. Jay is deep in thought, and knowing him, it’s about something that went down this afternoon that’s not sitting right. Jay is an honorable man and Gideon suspects that if Nix pushed back about the transition—which he has every right to do—then Jay’s guilt will push back, too.
“How did it go?” He’s trying to be gentle, and he pumps a bit of calming scent out, causing his alpha to briefly close his eyes.
“As well as could be expected when we got to the transition part. He’s hurt, scared, and angry but conflicted because he’s also grateful and happy to be here. I hurt him, Gid. I did that once before and look where it got us. Fuck.” He drops the spoon on the counter and turns in Gideon’s arms.
“He loves you. He’ll come around.” He kisses the side of his head and breathes in pine and home. Since the day they met, Gideon always associated Jay with a feeling of home and safety. It’s not something he will ever take for granted, and he knows their omega won’t either.
Jay is the foundation on which they build their pack, and no one would ever say it’s not sturdy.
“Sugar, please peel me a tangerine?” Luca’s straddling Rowan’s lap facing the kitchen while Rowan is alternating between watching Nix sleep and his phone. The sound of possible pre-peeled fruit has Finn popping his nose out from the library, book in hand, with the worst attempt at puppy dog eyes ever contorting his (handsome) face.
Gideon tosses him a tangerine, barely missing said face. “Ew. Stop that. You are perfectly capable, Finn Merritt.”
“And they’re not?” He replies and puts it back in the bowl in protest. Gideon will feel bad later. Not.
Grabbing two tangerines from the bowl, he peels them both and hand-feeds both his babies a piece at a time. Luca nips at his fingers while Rowan just opens his mouth absently like a baby bird.
“Whatcha looking at, Ro?” Gideon whispers right in his ear just to see him shiver, following his gaze to their sleeping beauties.
Chewing and wiggling his butt on Rowan’s lap, Luca is trouble personified. “I think Rowan has ideas. ”
“I do not have any fucking ideas. I will dump you on your sore, sweet butt. Be quiet—you’ll wake them up,” he mutters, flustered and blushing. It’s a good look on the young alpha.
“I think it’s time to wake them up, anyway. How’s dinner coming?”
Jay holds up five fingers, and Leo starts pulling out bowls for serving and hot pads for the dishes. He lays out eight bowls, then just stops, staring at them. Looking up at Gideon, he smiles—his sweet, happy smile, eyes damp.
Eight.
Grayson had said they were a never-ending infinity of love during one of his more coherent moments during his rebound rut. Gideon isn’t one for poetry, at least publicly, but he is one for prayer, and he feels that place where he keeps his connection to The Goddess flutters. Thank you for bringing him back to us.
“Set the table, you three. Go. Tonight, we are finally eight.”
Grayson had spent most of the first year of their residency in their new home, stressing over their dinner table. He wanted it not only to suit the space but to suit them . Finally, on a short weekend getaway to the Smoky Mountains, he’d discovered a local artisan who’d dragged a timeless fallen black walnut tree from the depths of the ancient forest.
It’s modern, but carved from one piece and so majestic that Gideon could almost feel it singing its ancient mysteries to him. When it had arrived with eight chairs, Jay had sat on the couch and stared at it for hours. The absence of their mate was a physical pain. He smelled so sad that every mate had cuddled him on the couch until Finn had fallen off too many times and convinced them to take it to the nest.
Tonight, every chair would finally be filled.
“Jay?”
Their leader stands staring into the soup, still holding the dry rice noodles aloft, as if the liquid held the mysteries of the universe.
“I’m okay, love. Just happy.” Dropping the noodles in, he smiles a soft smile and Gideon is satisfied for now.
“Uh…Gideon, you’ve got a runaway,” Rowan says, grinning already at the potential for disaster that is Luca Wilde, as he uses his chin to point at Luca, who has crept up behind the couch to remain virtually unseen by the mates in the kitchen. He’s got his chin on his hands, watching his mates sleep from six inches away, breathing deeply of the combined vanilla-basil scent.
Sneaky, sneaky boy.
His tiny “ eep ” at Rowan’s tattling is enough to startle Grayson, who holds his omega to his chest and bares his teeth. Another louder “ eep! ” at the unexpected sight of all those sharp teeth causes a cacophony of comedic proportions as Luca falls on his ass, bangs his elbow on the glass door, and gets caught in the blinds, causing them to jangle and clash.
Their omega is hardly phased, though, just pushing himself up until he’s sitting on Grayson’s lap, tiny toes almost touching the floor, cheeks flushed pink like a sleepy toddler. He’s so cute. Gideon is sure he’s wearing the same dumbass smile as everyone else in the room. The horror .
“Luc…?” Nix turns to peek over the side of the couch, and it’s Grayson’s turn to “ eep ” and pull down the back of Nix’s sweater.
Luca untangles himself and jumps up, throwing his arms in the air like he landed a vault in the summer Olympics. “I’m okay!”
Nix giggles and holds his arms out for a hug and gets a “whoo-yeah!” for his trouble.
Grayson barely avoids a knee to the face when Luca flings himself over the back of the couch. “Sugar, he remembers me!” Luca kisses Nix’s cheek.
“Luc, watch the elbows, please.” He’s talking to Luca, but he’s not taken his eyes off Nix since they opened. “Angel-baby. Hi.”
“Hi, Gray.” They’re staring and Gideon now knows what Rowan’s text meant. They are definitely whoa . Something tickles the back of his brain about it, but Jay calls “soup’s on,” and it slides away.
Best to catch what’s going on between the two cuties before it can devolve into something he’s going to have to break up (or join in), and that will require the couch to be cleaned. He pastes on a stern smile and uses an even sterner tone. “Alright, Rhodes Pack, let’s eat.”
Jay kisses Luca’s head as he moves to lift Nix off Grayson’s lap, taking his hand and guiding him to the table while everyone else takes their seats. He pulls out the eighth chair at the very end, with Grayson on Nix’s right and Rowan on his left, and presses a teary kiss to the top of Nix’s head.
Anyone could tell their alpha is happy—his pine forest scent overflows the space, palpable even to the brand-new Were. Jay takes his place at the other end, and Nix gives him a goofy wave.
Despite the solemnity of the moment, Leo’s tummy growls, breaking the silence. Nix quickly hides a giggle behind his hand.
Gideon feels like he should say something, so he does. He clears his throat, and in surprise, they all shut up. Finn sits across from him, eyebrow raised, and Jay is on his right with that goofy, “proud Dad” smile. “Fuck. Why am I doing this? Okay, I wanted to say that I am thankful we are all here together. Finally.” Luca laces their fingers together under the table. It’s surprisingly easy to let himself be happy.
Nix gazes at him, and he offers a small smile in return. The room is filled with the scent of food and the warmth of a happy family—Gideon’s favorite things.
“Alright, you dumbasses, let’s eat,” he says with a grin.