Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
BEAU
T riston’s sprawled in the bed when I wake to my alarm buzzing, sore and sated.
I palm his thigh, tracing the still-dark bruise left from the cow last weekend.
He shifts under the touch, turning into me, pulling his hips into mine without ever opening his eyes.
Cloves surround us, and I smile into his shoulder.
“Good morning,” I murmur.
He doesn’t respond, his breathing lengthening again into the cadence of sleep.
I brush a curl away from his face and press my lips to his temple, the same way I do with Emily.
He sighs in his sleep and then relaxes fully against me.
For a while, I enjoy the intimacy of it all, running my hands down his spine and along his hip.
My phone vibrates, and I carefully ease away from his touch with a sigh. It’s a text from Ethan.
You’re good to sleep in. Kyle and Jake are doing the herds today.
Tell Triston he can sleep in, too.
I frown. How in the hell does Ethan know Triston stayed here?
It takes me an embarrassingly long time to remember that Triston’s been using Scott’s SUV.
Fuck, I hope they didn’t panic when it wasn’t in the driveway this morning.
Is it a little cringe to know Ethan’s very aware we spent the night fucking Triston?
Yeah, a bit. But at least he texted me and not Emily.
I’m too sore and tired and emotionally drained to handle the fallout of Ethan pestering Emily over her choice in lovers.
I send him back a simple text.
Alright.
Then I get out of bed and pull on a pair of sweats and the flannel of mine Emily’d worn last night.
The baby monitor’s plugged in on Emily’s nightstand, and I take it with me into the kitchen, shoving it in a pocket and closing the door soundlessly behind me.
There’s half of a French press of coffee sitting on the counter.
I pour it and the creamer into a mug, then step out onto the porch.
The warmth of the coffee stings my freshly-scabbed hand, but I ignore the pain.
Emily’s perched in one of the rocking chairs, exactly where I expected her to be. There’s dark circles under her eyes, but her body is as relaxed and sated as Triston’s, that small curve to her lips that tells me she’s feeling pretty damn good. I stop in front of her and hold out my hand.
“Up.”
She raises an eyebrow but sets her hand in mine, allowing me to pull her into my arms. I quickly twist us so that I’m the one sitting in the chair and she’s sprawled on my lap.
She sighs as she rests her head against my shoulder and looks out on the meadow.
I set the monitor on the ground to the side of the chair and slowly rock us in time with my heartbeat.
I don’t break the silence, enjoying this routine of ours.
The sun finishes rising over the mountain to the east, burning off the dew on the grass and covering the windshield of Scott’s SUV.
“You should get going,” she says.
“Ethan texted. Kyle and Jake are covering today.”
She tenses, and I tighten my hold on her. Eventually, she sighs. “Is your hand okay?”
I hold my palm up for her inspection and take a long drink of the coffee.
“It’s not as deep as the other one,” she says, tracing the indentations of her teeth on the base of my palm.
“Nope,” I say, then take another drink. “Probably because it was a moving target. I almost didn’t get you blocked in time.”
Vanilla surrounds us as she chokes on a sound that might be an embarrassed whine. She drops my hand.
“So…”
I set the mug next to the monitor and wrap both arms tightly around her. She tucks her nose against my neck and breathes deeply. Vanilla surrounds us in a a fresh wave, and I palm her hip.
“That was a lot,” she says.
Yeah, it fucking was. I’ve never seen her react so strongly to an Omega’s scent before.
One minute, the three of us were making out just like old times, Emily slipping into her dominant side that I adore, and then…
Then there was shaking and crying and Emily trying with all her might to not fall into an instinctual haze that might have become a rut.
Her eyes had been so wide as she scraped up Triston’s neck, leaving droplets of blood in her wake.
And he hadn’t minded it at all, had only pressed himself harder into her like she was his lifeline.
“He’s not going to be okay after just one night,” she whispers against my skin. “Touch-starvation doesn’t just… go away. Not the way a heat does. And what if he goes and does this interview and decides having a daughter is enough weight and that he doesn’t want to add us, too?”
I press a finger to her lips. Her breathing is unsteady.
“You need to tell that voice to shut the hell up, firecracker. If I could see just how desperate he was for you—for us —then I know for damn sure you could, too. You could feel it and smell it in ways I couldn’t.
” She shrugs. “He said he’d give up everything he’s earned.
That wasn’t something he’d say just to get us into bed wit him, and you know it. So tell that voice to fuck right off.”
“Fine,” she whispers. She relaxes back into me. “So where does that…” She trails off.
“Just like I said last week, it’s your choice,” I murmur, knowing exactly what she’s asking. “We’ll figure out how to navigate his job the same way any other pack does. My brother managed it. I’ll be damned if I get shown up by Caleb.”
She laughs, the sound less hesitant than her questions.
“Your brother decided to quit,” she says after a minute.
I shrug, unbothered. “The fires, yes. But he still does the winter search and rescue for the ski resorts. He’s still gone. He just changed when that happens so Brielle’s not ever alone.”
The front door opens before she can say anything more, and Triston walks onto the porch. His hair’s mussed, and there’s bruises along both sides of his neck. His shirt and flannel are both wrinkled, and Emily’s vanilla scent clings to him. His cheeks flush as he pauses and focuses on us.
“I need to get going,” he mumbles.
“Ethan said you’re good to sleep in,” I offer. “Do you want some coffee?”
His blush drops down his neck, and he ducks his head as he runs a hand through his hair.
Emily relaxes her legs so they drape over the arm of the rocking chair, her ankles crossed.
His eyes track the movement, and his clove scent wafts over to us.
A noise rumbles through Emily’s chest, vibrating into mine.
I tighten my hold on her leg, concerned that a repeat of last night is on the horizon.
While I’m not opposed to fucking Triston again and using the last couple condoms in our just-in-case stash, it’s not something we really have time for at the moment.
There’s no movement on the monitor, but it’s only a matter of time before Penny wakes up.
And the idea of keeping Penny distracted while Emily fucks him without me just doesn’t sound all that fun.
Triston takes a halting step toward us before freezing, looking like a rabbit caught in a snare again. His Adam’s apple moves as he swallows.
“Are you… purring?” he asks after a minute.
Oh, hell, is that what Emily’s doing? I’ve never heard one that low from her before.
I should probably look up what the different intonations mean, though any purr is a sign of an Alpha that’s content and not in any kind of protective reaction to an Omega.
Some of my worry falls away, and I loosen my hold on her.
“Stay with us?” she asks.
He frowns, looking from her to me and then down at the cowboy hat held loosely in one hand at his side. “This morning? Or…”
He trails off.
“Or…” she says, not as a question, though she holds the syllable out the same way he had. “We have a bedroom you could use to nest. Or the guest house. Or the living room, if that’s what you want. Wherever you want to build it.”
She holds her hand out to him, palm up, in silent invitation.
His eyes hold that same unfathomable, longing look he had on Friday. I don’t dare move, trying to let whatever pheromone driven silent conversation is happening play out without interference.
“I still have all of… this to transition back into.” He holds up his hat. “My contract has another two years and then probably extra after that. I can’t guarantee I won’t cause you to be doxxed.”
I’m the one who says something this time. “We know. We’ll figure it out.”
His gaze flashes from her to me and then back.
His entire body trembles as he sets his palm in hers.
She wastes no time pulling him closer. He carefully sits on the bench between the two rocking chairs, his hat still in his left hand and hanging off the edge.
She raises his hand and presses it to her lips.
His clove scent intensifies, and she tenses.
Triston swallows again but doesn’t try to run away. After a long minute, Emily relaxes and lets go of his hand. He drops it to her leg, just beside mine. I let my pinky trace the edge of his. He looses a disbelieving half-laugh.
It’s that moment that a cry cuts through the monitor.
Emily slides out of my lap, letting me stand.
“You want to get her with me?” I ask Triston.
He blushes and then stands up, too, leaving his hat on the bench.
“I’d love to.”