Page 12

Chapter 12

Freya

I wake to silence - blessed, beautiful silence.

Peering at the clock, I see it’s just past six in the morning and Stone has slept through the night.

I smile. I’m such a good mother that I’ve gotten my baby to sleep through for the third night in a row.

Still smiling, I creep to his crib and lean over, brushing my fingers across his velvet-soft cheek. His tiny rosebud mouth puckers in his sleep.

“You’re the best baby in the universe,” I whisper. “Letting Mommy sleep all night long again.”

He doesn’t stir, so I seize my chance. Another calm shower sounds like heaven right now, rather than the quick washes I’ve been getting since he was born.

I grab clean clothes and dash to the bathroom, leaving the door cracked in case he wakes.

I groan as the hot water cascades over my shoulders, working out the knots that come from constant nursing and holding a newborn. I keep it quick, though. I can’t risk him waking up alone.

After brushing my teeth and running a comb through my damp hair, I check on Stone again. Still sleeping like an angel.

Coffee. I definitely need coffee.

The kitchen floor is cold under my bare feet as I fill the kettle and set it on the stove. The familiar routine is soothing. I like these quiet moments in my day. I measure grounds into the French press, and I wait for that first whistle, but it’s a rustling sound behind me that breaks the morning quiet.

I freeze.

It came from the living room.

Turning slowly, I see movement under the throw blanket in my armchair. A large figure shifts beneath it.

A scream tears from my throat before I can stop it.

I scream again as the figure bolts upright, and the blanket falls to reveal Zane’s panicked face.

Stone’s wail pierces the air from my bedroom.

“Shit, shit.” Zane stumbles to his feet, hands raised. “I can explain—”

I step back against the counter, heart thundering. “Are you an axe murderer?”

“If I was, you’d be dead already.” He runs a hand through his disheveled hair. “Though you nearly killed me with that scream.” He presses his hand on his chest. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“I nearly gave you one?” I mimic him as I press a hand to my chest, feeling my pulse–thud, thud, thud. “My heart is about to explode.”

In two long strides, he’s there, wrapping his arms around me and purring.

I freeze.

Is this real?

His scent—an intoxicating mix of strawberry, lime, and tequila—envelops me as he tries to soothe my panic.

“Nice try being all caring and alpha-like,” I say against his chest, “but it won’t save you from explaining why you broke into my apartment. First though,” I pull back as Stone’s cries grow louder. “I need to get my son.”

His eyes flicking to his shoes by the door.

“Stay right there, mister. Don’t even think about running. I’ll make the coffee in a minute.”

I hurry to the bedroom, scooping up Stone and rush to the changing table where I change his diaper.

It’s only when I head back to the living area when I spot the empty bottle by the armchair where Zane had been sleeping. Understanding dawns - he’d fed my baby.

I pick up the bottle and head into the kitchen.

Zane looks adorably sheepish, shoulders hunched. “I can’t sleep at night and thought...well, I thought you should be able to.”

“I thought he was sleeping through.”

He smiles. “Sorry.”

My heart melts at his confession. This big, strong firefighter snuck in to give me a break, to let me rest.

I want more. “Why can’t you sleep?”

He sighs. “Sit down and feed Stone and I’ll make the coffees.”

I sink into the couch, settling Stone in my arms, his tiny mouth latching onto my nipple with an eagerness that warms my heart, but boy, my nipples are getting sore with all this sucking and expressing.

Zane’s still in the kitchen, and I can hear clicking.

He’s taken too long.

What’s he up to?

Is he cooking up a story?

My stomach twists that he’s about to lie to me.

I don’t want him to lie because he isn’t ready to talk.

“Zane!” I call out, raising my voice over Stone’s soft suckling. “If you’re not ready to talk, that’s fine!”

A moment of silence stretches before Zane emerges from the kitchen, two steaming mugs in hand. He sets mine on the coffee table beside me with a soft thud and sinks into the chair across from me.

He takes a deep breath, eyes focused on the floor, then on Stone suckling for a second before he meets my gaze. “You know when I first joined the fire service.” His voice drops low. “I thought I was invincible.”

I arch an eyebrow, intrigued.

“I got called to this building on fire.” He shakes his head as if trying to dislodge the past. “My commander told me not to go inside, but...well, you know how it is.” He chuckles bitterly. “Stupid kid thinks he knows better.”

“I know how it is.” I shift; cradling Stone closer while Zane’s face grows serious.

“I was surrounded by flames and smoke,” he continues, his expression clouding over with a distant pain. “The smoke was choking me first; I had no choice but to run through it.” His jaw clenches. “I thought I made it through until...until a ceiling beam came crashing down.” He shrugs his shoulders. “I woke up five days later with these.” He points to the puckered skin around his ear and then uncovers his shirt to show me his burned chest and shoulder.

I gasp as memories of my bakery flood back—the roar of flames and the terror of watching everything burn around me.

“You saved me after everything you went through,” I whisper.

“It’s my calling,” he says softly, eyes flickering between mine and Stone’s face.

“Your scars...” My voice trails off as concern wraps around my heart like a vise. “Do they hurt?”

“They feel tight sometimes. I need to keep them moisturized.” His fingers brushing his shirt against his body as if he was suddenly regretting revealing too much.

“This will help. It’s nipple cream but it’ll soothe the skin. I’ll put some on you when I’m finished breast feeding this greedy one.” I smile at my son and then at Zane. “Did it not put you off being a firefighter?”

“My brother hates my job,” Zane admits, frustration edging his tone. “Your brother should be grateful you’re still alive. My–” I swallow, unable to say anything more.

Zane stares at me, but doesn’t push. “He wants me to leave it and join him in the family business.”

“And you’re not ready for that?”

He shakes his head but glances longingly at Stone again.

Then I remember him sleeping on my couch. “Is that when they come?” I ask softly, watching his face. “The demons. Do they come at night?”

Zane’s eyes meet mine, surprise flickering across his features. “How did you know?”

“You’re here at six am. You said you can’t sleep at night.”

He nods slowly. “I sleep better during the day.”

“Or in my armchair, apparently.” I can’t help the smile tugging at my lips.

He lifts the throw blanket to his nose, inhaling deeply. “Or with your scent.”

Goosebumps race across my skin at his words. “My scent? You like my scent?”

“I love your scent.” His voice gets rougher as his eyes meet mine.

My heart skips. “I love yours too.” The words tumble out before I can stop them. Fear and excitement tangle in my chest as I ask, “Dare we swap what we smell?”

“I’ll give you one if you want. Strawberry.” His eyes lock with mine, intense and searching.

“With lime?” Hope makes my voice quiver. Tears spring to my eyes, but before I can say more, Stone vomits all over my skin.

“Damn it, not now Stone.” I grumble, dabbing at the mess.

Zane is there in an instant, scooping up my son from my arms. “Go clean up, I’ll settle Stone.”

I can’t clean myself quick enough. We share two parts of our perfume and I’m hoping and praying that we share the last one. Does he smell me the same as I smell on him?

My nerves are fraying as I leave my bedroom.

Zane’s looking at me with wonder. “Why are you not disgusted with my scars?”

I laugh. “Why would I?”

“Because they’re ugly.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

My heart breaks a little. This gorgeous, brave man thinks a few scars make him ugly? “I’ve got ginger hair, I’m too curvy, and too tall to be an omega. That’s ugly. I don’t fit the perfect omega expectation.”

“You’re perfect.”

“I’m not, but I accept it.” I touch his neck and say, “But there’s nothing ugly about you. And these are your reminder that you lived.”

He nods. “I never thought of it like that.”

It’s getting too serious for my liking. “Anyway, it’s not like an alpha like you would ever look at me…like that. Even if my scent soothes you.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re attracted to me. Physically, I mean.”

His eyes darken, and he takes a step closer. “But I do like you.”

My heart stutters. “You’re just saying that because you like my armchair.”

“Blanket,” he corrects me. He cradles Stone closer to his chest. “And I’m saying it because you’re beautiful, but also because you make me feel whole again.”

“Oh.” The word comes out breathy, and I hate how vulnerable I sound.

He looks down at Stone, then back at me. “But I’ve never...”

“Never what?”

“Been with anyone.” His cheeks flush. “What omega would want this?” He gestures to his neck.

I burst out laughing before I slap my hand over my mouth when his mouth turns down. “No, no! I’m not laughing at you. It’s just...have you seen yourself? My God, you’re beautiful. The scars don’t take away from that fact. Yes, I’m sure your hair is bleached blond to detract from them, but you should be proud of your battle wounds.”

“What about these?” He pulls the collar down to show me the puckered skin over his chest.

“More scars that don’t change you—” I pause as his words sink in. “Wait, did you say you’re a virgin?”

He swallows hard and nods, then quickly changes the subject. “How’s the bakery situation?”

“Still waiting on the insurance company.” I sigh, running my fingers through my hair. “They’re taking their sweet time.”

“I can get my pack mate to look into it.”

“Your pack mate?”

“My brother is my pack mate.” He shifts Stone to his other arm. “I thought I told you.”

“I don’t know. Maybe you did. Baby brain and all that.” I smile.

He returns my smile and walks toward my bedroom. “He’s asleep. I’ll rest him.”

I watch Zane as he carries Stone back to my room. My heart melts at how tender he is with him. A warm glow spreads through me at the sight.

A warm sensation also settles between my thighs, and it’s pretty wet.

You can’t be thinking about sex right now, Stone is only ten days old.

I grab the lotion from the side table to soothe my sore nipples before I have to nurse again.

The skin feels tight and dry, and each day feels a little worse than the day before. I squeeze a dollop onto my fingertip and circle it around each nipple, hoping Zane stays distracted with whatever thoughts dance in that handsome head of his.

The soothing glide feels nice as I circle my fingers, enjoying the softness against my skin.

“More coffee?”

“Definitely,” I reply.

Suddenly, Zane appears in the doorway, frozen mid-step. His mouth drops open slightly as he takes in the scene before him.

I freeze too. Caught red-handed with my fingers circling my nipples. My face heats as his gaze zeroes in on my hands, as if they’re mesmerizing.

I pull my gown around me, but a playful smile lights up his face. “Do you need help with that?” His voice is low and teasing, but thick with something more primal.

“What?” My cheeks flush hot, and I squeak out a response. “How?”

“With my tongue.” His eyes glint mischievously.

My heart races, excitement bubbling up inside me like a fizzing soda. “I haven’t even had my coffee yet! I think I’ll climax!”

He bursts into laughter. “You’re adorable when you’re flustered.”

I throw a pillow at him from across the room. “Stop laughing at me! You don’t know how awkward this is!”

“Don’t be nervous. I’m not. It’s cute,” he smirks, leaning against the doorframe with renewed confidence.

I bite my lip. “You think it’s cute when a woman slathers lotion on her nipples?”

“I think you’re cute.” Zane’s eyes darken as he leans against the wall beside me. “But honestly, I’m wondering about something else.”

“What?” My voice trembles because his voice has turned low, like the alpha inside him is clawing to get out.

“If you’d let me help you.”

I swallow. “How?”

“I can use my tongue.”

My eyes fly open. “There is nothing sexy about milk leaking from my boobs.”

“There is, and I want to taste your milk.” His words hang heavy in the air.

Slick warmth gushes between my thighs at his admission— oh God!

His breath quickens as he watches my jaw open like an unexpected winter flower blooming in the spring sunlight, or more like a Japanese Koi fish.

I drop my hands slowly from my chest and say nothing; instead, I let my eyes do all the talking. And they are pleading with him to make good on his promise.