Page 16

Stacy

I don’t know if this amount of sex is normal or not, but we’ve been at it off and on all day.

He’s incredibly good at it. And I feel like I’m… not. I just let him do what he wants to do. I have a few ideas of what I’d do if I was brave enough to take the initiative. His carnal expression today when he drizzled the syrup on himself took me back to an ugly place for a moment, but he quickly changed tact and took me out of it.

I’m a little broken what with my unhappy introduction to sex, but I feel like he could change that. He already has, really. The way I enjoy it is still such a shock to me. Though I now know better than to point this out again.

It’s nighttime and he’s currently napping, looking incredibly sexy asleep on the couch with one arm thrown over his face. His muscled chest is on display, and I just want to curl up close to him and inhale the scent of his skin. Memorize it.

Because a little voice inside me keeps telling me that all this is at risk of being ripped away from me, that it can’t possibly be mine to keep. Whether that’ll be down to Wyatt ruining it or not, it all feels temporary, and I’m torn between enjoying it to its full capacity while it lasts and bracing for the worst.

He’s spent today lavishing me with affection, with orgasms. With his gorgeous smiles. With his body warmth. His purrs. It’s been a beautiful blur of a day.

Shortly after breakfast he asked me what sorts of movies I liked before he reached into a basket in the living room full of rolled blankets. He took one, carried me to the couch, set me down and snuggled in, wrapping the soft blanket over the two of us. I eyeballed the basket in the corner with the odd but strong urge to gather all those blankets along with any others in the house so I could arrange them on the floor for us in a sort-of blanket fort. But I didn’t suggest it; I just snuggled in, watching him sign up for a streaming service that gave us a buffet of movies.

Greyson made us popcorn before Aladdin, and we had to clean popcorn from every crevice of the couch after him giving me a back rub turned into him feasting between my legs before finishing off all over my torso. It was incredible to watch him fist himself and do that, strong muscles on display, a look of passion in his expression as he watched me watch him. It was even more incredible when he rubbed the cream he spilled all over me into my skin until my breasts were fully coated with it. It left me sticky but satisfied, feeling something I can only describe as serene as he growled in my ear, “You’re mine, wife. And I fucking love that I can smell me on you.”

We didn’t get to pay much attention to the end of Aladdin, and then halfway through Beauty and the Beast, his hand snaked up under the blanket and he brought me to orgasm yet again, this time with his fingers, after which I promptly fell asleep. When I woke up, he was smiling at me while twirling a lock of my hair around his index finger.

“Hey sleeping beauty, want me to restart it?” he asked.

“Sleeping Beauty! Can we watch that?” I asked.

He laughed at me and gave me what I wanted.

We watched that and then ate the pasta casserole his mom sent over. After this, we lounged in his large soaker tub together with sky-high bubbles that smelled like cherries. The bubble bath came from Bailey and their mom, but I also got to sample some of the bath products sent in the welcome basket with a sugar cookie body scrub that left my skin feeling like silk.

Now he’s napping and I’m feeling content while watching him sleep.

The whole day has been absolutely decadent. So decadent, I’ve barely had a chance to worry. Filled with affection, rest, sex, and food. I’m not accustomed to eating this much.

Conversation has been light, which I suspect has been intentional because Greyson wants me comfortable. He’s been absolutely amazing.

He left me by myself for a bit in order to talk on the phone to one of his cousins, explaining that this is the witch part of his family and he’s just beginning to get acquainted with them. His cousin Vivica wanted to know how things were going with Riley Savage and Erica Young, who are hopefully working out relationship issues.

He explained that Tyson’s cousin Riley thought she died and recently found out she wasn’t dead, that it looks like she’s been hiding from him while he grieved.

Greyson already told me how badly his friend mourned, and I could see he was angry about this, didn’t understand how she could do such a thing, and it was touching to see how much Greyson cares. But when he finished his phone call with his witch cousin, his tune changed a little and he seemed like he was veering to his cousin’s side of things.

He said it was all out of her control, and he can see how difficult of a position she was in. He says he can only imagine how hard that must have been for her – to hide for all this time knowing her fated mate was mourning her. I felt like he said some of those things for my benefit, drawing parallels because she harmed Riley emotionally out of lack of choices.

I know he’ll ask more questions about my pack, my brother, but I’m getting a temporary reprieve.

His eyes open and he sees me watching him.

“Hey,” he greets, then stretches.

“Hi,” I say feeling heat creep up my face.

“Come here.” He crooks his finger.

I move from the loveseat across from the couch to where he is. He makes room for me, holding me close, pressing his lips to my forehead.

“Sleepy?” he asks.

I shake my head.

“What do you think about a night run?”

He laughs because clearly the fact that I perk up is amusing to him.

“I’d love that,” I say belatedly.

“Okay,” he murmurs and presses his lips to mine.

His phone rings. He reaches for it from the table beside the couch.

“One sec,” he says and walks away, answering it.

A spike of unpleasantness hits my chest, and I can feel that something is wrong.

I wait until he returns, toying with the fringe of the blanket and by his expression I know I’ve slid into a false sense of security.

He’s put on jeans, a t-shirt, and shoes.

“Can you put some clothes on, Blossom? I’ve got to slip out for a while and I’m having two pack members come sit outside to keep an eye out. They won’t likely need to come in, but I want you dressed in case anything kicks off.”

I feel panicked but I still jump to my feet. “Okay.”

He looks upset.

I don’t question him; I move upstairs and after taking off Greyson’s flannel shirt, I fetch the clothes that his sister and mom sent over. I put the nice, stretchy yoga pants on as well as a loose, soft hooded shirt they sent me. I find the hair ties that were sent and tie my hair into a high ponytail.

When I get downstairs, I find him tapping away on his phone screen. He slides it into his pocket and pulls me into his arms, trouble in his eyes.

“I hope everything is okay,” I say.

“It’s not. I need to go quickly, or I’d explain. I’ll go over everything with you when I get back, which will be as soon as I can get back here. Okay?”

I nod.

“Please stay put. Please don’t leave the house. Okay?” He kisses my mate mark.

“Okay, Greyson.”

“I mean this, okay? Can you do this for me? It’s important that you stay put, not try to go anywhere for any reason.”

“Anything you need.”

He blows out what looks like relief. He trusts me. It feels… good. No, not good, it feels important, precious.

“Back as soon as I can be.”

“Okay.”

He leaves, leaving me feeling strange. Worried. Safe and protected. But a little empty.

I don’t know what’s wrong. I only hope it doesn’t have anything to do with Wyatt.

After pacing for a few minutes, I reach into my backpack to retrieve my cell phone, so I can charge it and eventually check and see if there are any messages. Although I’m conflicted, because opening messages or seeing missed calls will completely burst the already deflating bubble - and I’m in no hurry for that… beyond nervous about what sorts of texts or voicemails there might be from Jimmy or Wyatt. But… my phone isn’t in the bag.

Did it get left behind in the woods when Lincoln retrieved my things? Did Greyson take it? If Greyson did take it, is that because he doesn’t entirely trust me? If so, I can’t blame him for that, can I?

No, I can’t blame him. But I also can’t help but feel sad. Embarrassed.

I hear noise outdoors and catch multiple new shifter scents, so I move to peer out a window that faces the front of the house.

I see three men in the driveway with Greyson, who gets into the passenger seat of a pickup truck with one of them. The other two stand on the driveway. One looks up and sees me. I move back.

“Yeah, but she’s the one that’s been poisoning some of us,” one of them says to the other as soon as the truck Greyson is in can no longer be heard.

“True,” the other one says. “But she’s one of us now, so let it go.”

“I’d reject her. No way would I let that in my bed,” the first one asserts.

My blood suddenly runs cold.

“Don’t talk out of your ass. You don’t have a fuckin’ clue how it is when you scent your mate.”

“Spoken like someone who’s whipped,” the first voice quips.

“Yeah, and happy for it, too,” the second mutters. “Don’t piss me off, Finnegan.”

I back away from their voices, not wanting to hear any more, not wanting more proof of what I already know – that there’s a slim to zero chance I’ll be accepted in this pack.

Sure, the second guy seems willing to let it go, but I have a feeling there will be far too many who think like the first, even if they don’t admit it aloud. And even if people want to let it go, this is the underlying impression of me.

I know how I’d feel about someone trying to harm my pack. In fact, I do know how I feel about that. Because Wyatt harms our pack continuously and I loathe him for it. I despise my own brother. I can only imagine how much I’d hate some girl who came in, destined to be the mate of one of our beloved pack members, one of our esteemed leaders, and harmed us but yet got to have him anyway.

Grey told me the story today of Tyson’s cruel uncle who stole him as a baby. Grey told me how much it meant to the pack to have him come back as an adult. I put him in danger after all that. I spilled his blood. I made his mate worry about him being shot!

A tear trickles down my cheek as I climb into Greyson’s bed and curl up under the blankets as more of them fall.

There’s no way I deserve to have this, this pack and home, let alone the man whose scent surrounds me, whose touch melts me. It’s got to be just a matter of time before it’s ripped away and given to someone who actually deserves to have this.

The voices come closer; they must have come around to this side of the house because I hear, “After this bullshit tonight?” It’s Finnegan again. “Grey might rethink after all.”

“Shut the fuck up, dumb ass,” the other voice says.

But I’m thinking… what bullshit?

What has Wyatt done?