Chapter Thirty
Espie
Lex told me omega specialist contractors were coming to help finish the greenhouse. They must have been here and gone before I woke up because I didn’t hear a thing. Specialists indeed.
Yesterday the end wall was open framing and cold air. This morning it's glass, and the light coming through it falls across the potting bench at the perfect angle. I step inside and the warmth closes around me.
The pine shelving still smells raw at the cut edges. Copper irrigation pipes run the length of the ceiling. Kev told me there'd be an irrigation system, but this is the pinnacle of irrigation systems.
A flat of marigolds waits to be planted in various size pots at the end of the bench. I should be planting them but Aubrey has his hands in my hair and I can't bring myself to care about a single one of them.
“Aubrey. A whole flat is just sitting there.”
“I know.” He tips my chin up anyway.
He kisses me like we have all morning. Unhurried, his hips settled between mine against the potting bench, his erection grinding into my belly.
Aubrey woke up that way and we made love before breakfast. I'd thought that would settle the heat simmering in my blood, but I’m sticky and warm and Aubrey is settling that part of me that needs.
He exhales against my mouth, then scents me, his face pressing into my throat. I pull back to look at him. His eyes are soft in the way they go when something is good.
“We're really not doing the marigolds, are we,” I say.
He tilts his head, considering it. The tension is completely out of his face, his mouth soft, his eyes open and untroubled. “Not yet. I have better things to do in here, especially to you.”
The thud of timber reaches me first, then the low back-and-forth of male voices, then a laugh, and I look at the alphas working on the patio structure beyond our chair.
Kev measures something and marks it with a pencil stub he passes to Lex without looking. Lex takes it without looking. Ezra sets down a stack of boards, says something, and Kev shakes his head while Ezra grins, one deep dimple cutting into his cheek.
Then Ezra pulls his shirt off and tosses it over a sawhorse.
He stretches his arms overhead, the whole long line of his back shifting and pulling, and I catch his linen and woodsmoke on the warm morning air through the ventilation strip.
He says something to Lex. Lex tips his head back for a long drink from a water bottle and wipes his forearm across his forehead.
Aubrey's scent shifts beside me. He's looking through the glass with heat in his eyes, then his gaze flicks to me. We both perfume.
A giggle breaks free from both of us at the same moment, that surprised, slightly helpless sound, the kind that keeps going once it starts. It… feels good to be this way. I’d forgotten what being light felt like.
Sera is against the wall of the house, one shoulder leaned into the brick, weight on her back foot.
Her arms are crossed low at her waist, watching Kev measuring, Lex marking, Ezra hauling boards and talking over his shoulder.
Her gaze drifts over them and there’s intensity there.
The same heat Aubrey and I have been watching them with.
She wants them.
Then Ezra calls out. “Sera! Come tell Kev he's measuring wrong!”
Two breaths and she goes tense. She pushes off the wall and walks to the kitchen door. “He always measures wrong.”
Then she slides the door open and disappears inside.
Aubrey is quiet for a moment. “She's hurting.”
“We should tell her. That she fits here. That we want her. Maybe she thinks she doesn't, because of us. Maybe she's holding herself back because she thinks she's — I don't know. Outside it somehow.”
“I don't think it's that simple.” Aubrey's voice is careful. “What we are leaves marks on us. What she is has left marks on her. Different marks than us, but still there.”
His gaze lingers on the door, his longing weaving with mine.
“Something's wrong with her,” I say quietly. I don't like seeing her like this. I want her in our nest, warm, kissing us both. Tending to us the way she did when Aubrey had his spike. The wanting is new but it's there, and it's growing.
“Come on.” He squeezes my shoulder. “Let's finish the herbs.”
We turn back to the work. The marigolds are done. We move to basil, rosemary, mint, filling pots and arranging them on the shelves Ezra built. The work is repetitive and I sink into it, but my scent doesn't settle.
The heat from earlier is still there, and every time the breeze shifts I catch alpha scent from the patio.
My body keeps responding. I try to focus on the soil under my fingers, the smell of the herbs, the rhythm of the work, but my mind wanders back to Aubrey.
Back to the alphas. Back to the image of Sera out there with them, easy in the sunlight, maybe crossing to Lex and kissing him the way she kissed us yesterday, and us watching from in here.
I'm still thinking about it when I see Kev crossing the lawn toward us.
He moves with that easy, unhurried gait he has, big and steady, like he's never in a rush because he always gets where he's going.
His brows are drawn low, thinking about something, and he's still in his work clothes, timber dust on his forearms, sleeves rolled.
He comes through the greenhouse door and stops.
His head comes up. His nostrils flare and his chest expands as he pulls in air laden with our arousal. He's very still for a moment, just standing there in the doorway and his gaze lands right on us. He knows exactly what we've been doing in here.
He clears his throat as he steps in and sets the plate on the workbench. His voice is rough. “I’ve brought lunch. I thought you might be hungry…”
He shuffles for a moment, goes to say something and closes his mouth again. I’ve never seen Kev this awkward. He rubs the back of his neck, the gleam of sweat on his skin, and says, “I hope you like what I’ve brought.”
I don’t want him to go. It's irrational and I know it but it's there anyway. The same need comes from Aubrey, only he acts on it. Aubrey takes off his gloves and approaches the big alpha.
“Wait,” Aubrey says.
Kev goes still. I've never seen an alpha blush like he is now. His scent shifts, something warmer underneath the oakwood, and my body gives a definite pulse of response.
Aubrey rises on his toes and kisses Kev's cheek. “Thank you, Kev. It looks delicious.”
Kev's scent blooms, that warm note deepening, spreading through the humid air of the greenhouse. Aubrey pulls back and looks over his shoulder at me, something dancing in his eyes.
“Doesn't it look perfect, Espie?”
Kev hasn't moved. He's standing exactly where he was. Like if he stays still enough he won't startle anything.
I pull my hands out of the seedlings and wipe the soil from my fingers and cross to him.
He stays exactly as he is, watching me come, and I rise onto my toes and press my mouth to his cheek.
His skin is warm and rough with the day's stubble and he smells like oakwood and sweat and something sweet underneath that wasn't there before.
His breath eases out. I step back. Kev looks at both of us, his gaze intense.
“You know you're wanted here, right? Both of you.” He draws in a deep breath.
“It destroys me. Knowing what happened. Knowing I wasn't there. I look at you both and I see what they took, and I want to.” He stops.
Swallows hard. “I want to find every single person who ever hurt you and make them pay. I want to burn it all down. Every facility, every handler, every bastard who ever made you feel like you were less than human.”
“Kev.” The word breaks out of me.
“Every day you're still here is a gift. Every time you eat what I make, every time you let me close enough to see you, every time you don't flinch.” He takes a breath. “I notice. I'm grateful. You have no idea how grateful.”
He brings his arm up slowly, like he's afraid I'm going to run. His palm settles on my cheek. His hand is so big it spans from my jaw to my cheekbone, warm and rough, and I make a soft sound and turn my face into it, just a little, and his breath hitches.
He does the same to Aubrey. Aubrey's fingers curl around Kev's forearm where they're still wrapped there, holding on.
“You're doing so good,” he says, and his voice cracks. “Both of you. The way you've been fighting your way back. It's the bravest thing I've ever seen. Even if you give us nothing more than this. Even if this is all it ever is. You complete me. Both of you.”
He walks out the greenhouse door. Across the lawn, back to where Ezra and Lex are working, and he picks up where he left off like he didn't just come apart in front of us.
Like he didn't just say all of that. Lex hands him something and Kev takes it and they keep building and the world out there just. Continues.
Aubrey and I stand there and watch him.
I want him to come back.
Not to talk. Not to hover at a careful distance with a plate of food.
I want him to come back and touch me the way he did before he walked away.