Page 3 of Alder Woodacre and the Acorns of Affection (Amaranthine Interludes #3)
Joe was only a little bit surprised when a light rap preceded Kip into his small bedroom. He was earlier than usual. Then again, Ash was away this weekend, filming for his television series.
Kip had moved into Melissa’s old room, but he barely used it. Basically, if he was in the house after dark, then he was in bed with Joe. Kip’s smile was cautious. “Still up?”
Joe was often asleep before his bondmate came to bed. Kip liked to hang out with the other Amaranthine in the enclave, often until all hours.
Glad to have Kip to himself for once, Joe smiled and scooted over.
Immediately brightening, the redhead crowded under the blankets. “Something good happen today?” he asked, trying to steal a peek at the journal Joe was updating.
He closed the book, which had FARMER’S ALMANAC written in blue ink on the cover. “The forecast for this week shows a warming trend. We might get a false spring.”
Sprawled on his side, head propped on a fist, Kip asked, “And that’s good?”
“It can be bad. Especially if the trees think it’s time to bud.”
“So that’s not the source of this extra shine.” He wiggled his fingers Joe’s way, as if he was fizzing over.
“Oh. That’s you.” Joe shrugged awkwardly.
Kip’s smile went all crooked. “What a nice thing to say. Hey, is it okay if I get a start? Been a long day. You can keep writing if you want.”
Joe shook his head and stowed his book, switching off the light. “You’ll need to go deep soon. It’s been six weeks already.”
“I know, but I really want to wait until the next long weekend. If I can make it. That’d be better for everyone’s schedules.” Pulling the blankets up practically over their heads, Kip got comfy.
They’d tried several positions, but there weren’t a whole lot of options for two guys on a twin bed.
Kip liked to put his ear over Joe’s heart.
This left Joe’s hand’s free, all the better for the kind of scratching and hair-petting that Kip adored.
He never skipped his daily dose of a beacon’s soul.
According to Argent, he needed this. It was a little like building up an immunity.
Kip was—by his own admission—a very little squirrel, and a beacon like Joe was more than he could handle.
So Argent had imposed personal wards in the form of a bracelet that couldn’t be removed, even by a tricky squirrel.
Kip’s enormous tail always seemed to have a mind of its own. Tonight, it curled around both of them, tickling and tinged with the scent of floor wax. Kip pushed an arm under Joe’s shoulders, nosing at his T-shirt before whispering, “Ready?”
“Mm-hmm.”
Joe had been taking lessons from Jiminy, learning the kind of control that every reaver needed.
As Joe’s capabilities improved, Argent had adjusted the wards, loosening restrictions.
But Kip wasn’t meant to have willy-nilly access.
Joe was in charge of their tending sessions, and Argent had warned him about the dangers of greed and the tragedy of breaking.
No matter how sweetly Kip begged for more, Joe wasn’t allowed to spoil him.
During his last visit, Argent had acknowledged that the gap between them was closing, but the bracelet stayed where it was.
Kip nuzzled again, more insistently. “Did you fall asleep?”
“Still here.” And Joe surrendered a little of his soul.
With a wriggle and tug that did no good—they couldn’t have been any closer—Kip sighed a blissful breath, then proceeded to go limp.
Joe smiled and petted his hair. For now, for a while, Kip was all his.
The guy had all kinds of little habits that Joe found adorable. Like the way his grip would change, tightening and releasing, as if he wanted to grab hold, then remembered to go easy. The effect was that of a kneading kitten.
Joe’s favorite thing took more finessing. Letting loose a bit more, he ran a thumb up the back of Kip’s ear … and was rewarded with a hitching gasp, quickly followed by contented little chirring noises. Perfect.
Joe placed a careful kiss over Kip’s eyebrow.