Page 101 of Daisy

I force myself up off the couch, running hands through my hair. Coffee. I need coffee and maybe a cold shower before I do something stupid like march into that bedroom and demand my turn.

Twenty minutes later, I emerge from the bathroom feeling marginally more human and significantly less likely to do something I'll regret. The cold water helped, but it didn't erase the sound of her soft moans or the satisfied sighs that followed.

When I step into the kitchen, the torture continues.

Gunner's at the table reading something on his phone. Normal enough. What's not normal is Daisy perched sidewayson his lap, tracing patterns on his chest through his t-shirt like it's the most natural thing in the world.

"Find anything interesting?" she asks, pressing a kiss to his temple.

My chest clenches. When did touching Gunner become as natural as breathing for her?

"Maybe," he murmurs, showing her the screen. "There's a town about fifty miles south. Off the beaten path. Might be worth checking out if we need to move again."

"Hopefully we won't need to." She shifts on his lap, and Gunner's hands automatically settle on her waist to steady her. The gesture is so unconsciously protective it makes my teeth ache. "I like it here. Feels safe."

"Good," Gunner says, and there's satisfaction in his voice. Pride. Like making her feel safe is his greatest accomplishment.

Maybe it is.

I start the coffee with more force than necessary, trying to ignore the way her scent keeps drifting over. Trying not to think about how she's never sat on my lap like that. Never traced patterns on my skin. Never kissed my temple like I'm something precious.

The coffee maker gurgles to life, and I lean against the counter, watching them. She's wearing one of Gunner's hoodies—soft navy blue cotton that swallows her whole—and her dark hair is messy from sleep. She looks relaxed like this. Happier. More herself than I've ever seen her.

It's beautiful.

It's also driving me slowly insane.

"Morning, Hawk," she says, finally noticing me. Her smile is warm but careful. Like she's not sure how to act around me anymore.

"Morning, princess." The endearment comes out rougher than I want. "Sleep well?"

"Really well." Pink creeps up her neck, and I catch a spike in her scent. Sweet and sharp and embarrassed. "You?"

"Like a baby," I lie with a grin. "A very large, very frustrated baby."

That gets a laugh out of her, and the sound goes straight to my chest. When's the last time I made her laugh like that?

I need to get my shit together. She's free to choose whoever she wants, and I should be happy for Gunner. He's my oldest friend, my pack brother. I should be grateful I even found my scent match at all, especially in someone so incredible. Hell, most beta-born alphas never get that lucky.

But her scent is getting stronger every day, more intoxicating, and it's making it impossible to keep being the good guy. I'm wound up so tight I might go into rut if I don't jerk off a hundred times a day. And even that's not helping anymore.

She nods, then turns back to Gunner's phone like I'm dismissed. The casual dismissal stings more than it should.

When Cassian emerges from the bathroom, hair damp from his shower, Daisy's whole demeanor shifts. She slides off Gunner's lap and moves toward Cassian like she's drawn by a magnet.

"Morning," she practically purrs, hands settling on his chest as she goes up on her toes to kiss his jaw. Not his cheek. His jaw, right where his pulse jumps.

My coffee mug cracks in my grip.

When we first brought her here, she was terrified of Cassian. Flinched every time he got too close. Now she can't seem to get enough of him. Of everyone except me, apparently.

"You smell good," she murmurs against his skin.

Cassian makes a sound low in his throat. "Stronger today," he says simply.

I grab my jacket from the hook by the door. "I'm going to check the perimeter," I announce to no one in particular.

"Want company?" Gunner asks, but he's already turning back to his phone, Daisy settling against his side again.