Chapter 20
Hestia
Ihappily follow Magnus out to the garden, although I can’t help replaying our conversation over breakfast.
I planned to make Cato laugh more, but I should have clarified that I didn’t want him laughing at me.
They weren’t mean-spirited about it, but it was embarrassing to realize they figured out how seriously I take my studies. I wanted to appear cool and capable, but I couldn’t even keep up that front for more than a few weeks.
They didn’t seem to care that I might be a little nerdy, but I want them to also think I’m interesting. Surely having the skills to survive in the wilderness makes me cool, even if I also memorized the weather patterns for the last fifty years.
Magnus holds the greenhouse door open for me, and I go in and wait by the workbench for his directions.
He stands in front of me, and I look up (and up) at him. His lips quirk, and he gently presses his finger against the corner of my mouth, pulling my pout up into a smile.
I resist at first, pressing my lips together, but finally relent and smile at him.
“Are you upset about the teasing? I think intelligence is attractive,” Magnus says.
His deep voice always makes my knees weak, and they’re especially wobbly after that compliment.
He drops his hand so I can answer, resting it on my shoulder, his thumb over the pulse on my neck.
My breath is coming fast and I’m getting dangerously wet. He should know what touching the neck does to an omega.
I lick my lips to fix my suddenly dry mouth and Magnus’s eyes drop to my lips, which doesn’t help the situation.
“No, it’s fi-fine,” I whisper. “I was just embarrassed.”
He leans down to hear me better, and I sway toward him.
His eyes are all I can see, one a deep blue like the sky before a thunderstorm, the other white like a lightning flash.
My nose brushes his.
Magnus inhales sharply and stumbles back, bumping into the potted plants behind him.
I sag against the table, which is the only thing keeping me upright. My legs have completely given up, trying to drop me onto the ground before him.
Which might not be a bad idea, then I could present for my alpha.
No.
That’s a bad idea. I’m not supposed to do that.
Besides, Magnus already rejected me, which was the right decision. I can’t kiss my boss.
Then why does it hurt so much?
“I’m sorry,” he says roughly.
Our almost kiss obviously affected him too, which makes me feel slightly better.
All I can do is nod while I try to get my body under control. My omega is raging, bouncing between pushing us to go for it while also being hurt that he pulled away.
“I was just trying to—I wasn’t—I’m sorry,” he says, closing his eyes and running his hands through his hair.
My mind is still racing. Did I remember to use all of my descenters this morning? I’m pretty sure I grabbed the special underwear.
I can’t tell if my scent is leaking out because all I can smell is Magnus’s gingerbread scent. It’s spicier than usual, with a tang that sticks in the back of your throat.
After several long minutes, he opens his eyes but won’t look at me.
That’s fine, I don’t want to look at him either. That’s how we got into this situation in the first place, with his pretty blue-white eyes and strong jaw and luscious scarred lips.
Stupid sexy giant alpha.
Magnus steps closer, and my resolve wavers immediately.
I suppose it would be okay if we kissed platonically. People do that, right? We could totally kiss a little as long as it’s friendly kissing. With tongue.
He sets a bag on the table, making me jump. I was so busy staring at his lips I didn’t pay attention to what he was doing.
The scent of food distracts me from the tension between us. I could go for a mid-morning snack if that’s what he’s offering.
I stick my head in the bag, but it’s so dark I can’t tell what he brought.
Magnus makes a noise and grabs my shoulder, pulling me out.
“What’s this?” I ask, hazarding a glance at him.
Thankfully, the almost uncontrollable urge to climb him like a tree seems to have subsided.
“I like to make treats for Pete, especially in winter when there’s not as much available for him to forage,” Magnus says. “I’m sure he’d be just fine without me, but it makes me feel better to offer him food. I don’t want him to stress about hunting and gathering everything himself.”
He’s going to make me cry if he keeps saying things like that. It’s so sweet hearing him talk about Pete. It’s obvious how much he cares for him.
“I thought we could make his treats together since you like hanging out with Pete,” he says.
I could admit I come out here to spend time with him, not Pete, but after our close encounter, I definitely can’t say that.
Pete is cute but I’m not sure he likes me very much. He kicks dirt at me and stares at me until I leave. He never does that to Magnus.
But I say, “That sounds fun!”
It doesn’t matter how much my presence annoys Pete, I’m here for his big friend. Besides, maybe Pete will like me if I make him food. That always works on me.
Magnus pulls the ingredients out, bags of dried fruit and nuts, some of which are candied, and a jar of hazelnut spread.
The combination makes me nervous. If Pete loves those flavors so much, does that mean he thinks I smell like dinner?
“We’ll use the hazelnut spread to stick everything onto pinecones. I just need to go collect them, I’ll be back in a minute,” he says.
Magnus’s long legs carry him out of the greenhouse before I can offer to help. It’s probably just as well, it gives me a chance to cool down.
I drum my fingers on the table, trying to stop my brain from picturing what he looks like naked.
There’s a lot to imagine.
Omegas are built to handle big things, but he’s larger than most alphas. Would I be able to take it all?
Dirt rains down on my hand, and I hastily pull it off the table. Pete’s tiny face pops out of a pot, already glaring.
“Oh. Hello,” I say. “Was my tapping annoying? Sorry about that.”
I laugh nervously and clean myself off.
Pete doesn’t respond, but he likewise brushes the dirt off his face. All the better to glare at me, I guess.
Magnus returns, saving me from the stilted, one-sided conversation.
He sits on the bench, careful to give me a wide berth, and shows me how to coat the pinecones with the hazelnut spread.
I follow his example, and my fingers are quickly covered in the stuff. Even though I’m using a spoon to smear it on the same as Magnus, somehow his hands are completely clean.
I watch again to see how he’s doing it, but that just results in more of it dripping on my arm.
I give up on trying not to be messy and focus on making sure my pinecone is thoroughly coated. When I’m done, I hold up my sticky glob and compare it to Magnus’s pinecone sitting neatly on his tray. It doesn’t look as pretty, but they’ll both be covered up soon enough.
“I think I did something like this as a kid. We used peanut butter and seeds to make treats for the birds and squirrels,” I say.
“My parental pack only fed animals that provided something for us, so I didn’t do anything like that growing up,” Magnus says.
“But you’re right, I based Pete’s Treats on a pinecone bird feeder recipe I found online.
I swapped the peanut butter for hazelnut since he prefers that. Pete doesn’t like peanuts.”
I hide my smile about his culinary exploration with frog treats.
“I bring Pete some of our leftovers occasionally, even though he’s self-sufficient. He does a great job of keeping the garden pest-free,” he continues.
“I’m sure he’s a very capable hunter,” I say.
I’d blocked out the part about Pete hunting bigger things. I’ve never seen him eat anything except plants and worms or bugs. I glance nervously at Pete, who stares straight into my soul.
I hurriedly get back to making Pete Treats, lest he become too hungry.
I clear my throat and ask Magnus, “Did you have many winter traditions growing up, or was your pack practical there too?”
“We had a few Yule traditions. We didn’t decorate beyond bringing in an evergreen tree that we later used as firewood.
My parents gave us gifts, which tended to be things we needed rather than toys.
It was still an enjoyable holiday though.
We spent the day together without worrying about the daily chores we usually did to keep up with living off-grid. ”
“That’s what’s important, being with the people you care about.
My parental pack did the typical holiday things, Yule lights and cookie exchanges and gifts.
It was chaotic, but fun. It’s nice to do all the silly little activities together,” I say, thinking about everything we’ve done over the past few days.
“It is. My packmates happily shared their traditions with me, and we’ve made new ones over the years. This winter has been the best one yet. We’ll have to do this every year,” Magnus says.
I look over at him, but he keeps his eyes on his task.
I’ll be here next year, of course, but he made it sound like I’ll always be here.
Maybe that’s not what he meant though, maybe it was a general “we” as in the team, which just happens to include me currently.
I’m sure I’m reading too much into this.
“We will,” I agree.
Magnus doesn’t say anything else, so I get back to sticking dried fruit to my pinecone. There are a bunch of different types, along with a variety of nuts, all cut into small pieces so they’re easy for Pete to eat.
A piece of mango slips out of my hand and bounces onto the ground.
I peek at Pete to see if he noticed, and he’s definitely staring harder than he was before.
I quickly grab the fruit and wipe it off, but he’s still watching me.
“Should I throw this piece out since I dropped it?” I whisper to Magnus, barely moving my lips so Pete can’t read them.
“No, it’s fine. Pete eats things out of the dirt all the time, the floor isn’t any different,” he says.
I’m not sure I believe him because Pete still doesn’t look happy. Although I guess he always has that grumpy face.
I hesitantly reach for the pinecone and tense as Pete shifts, afraid he’s going to lunge at me.
“It’s really okay. Here, I’ll show you,” Magnus says, taking the fruit from me.
He holds it in front of Pete, who politely takes the mango out of his hand and swallows it whole. Pete nestles in the dirt, digging in until his back is partially covered.
He doesn’t even look irritated anymore.
“See? Pete doesn’t mind a little dirt,” Magnus says.
He might not mind a little dirt, but he certainly doesn’t like me.
That settles it. I’m going to make the best Pete Treats he’s ever had and make him like me.