Page 74 of Mask and the Magnolia

“But—“

“I’m older, for starters. You don’t need that.”

“Thirty-eight is hardly ancient, Isaak, and eleven years means shit in this day and age.”

He brushes my hair out of my face and lifts his other hand to trace my jaw. “I’m your professor.”

”No,” I shake my head emphatically. “Donovan said it himself, we aren’t teacher and student, not really. I’m learning from your experience in a clinical setting the same way new doctors do at the hospital. It’s not the same.”

“That’s a stretch, and it would still make us colleagues.”

“Also not an issue.” I lean into his touch and grab the front of his sweater vest. “There’s nothing in any of the handbooks saying it’s forbidden for doctors or nurses to date or have non-platonic relationships. Both jackasses who run the other two buildings would be the biggest hypocrites if they made that a policy considering how well they knowa lotof people that work for them.”

“Then there’s the little matter of your father.” I scowl as Isaak sighs but the smile never leaves his face. “Magnolia. I don’t know if mixing business with pleasure would work for us, not after the way I’ve reacted to you.”

”I don’t care.”

“But I do.” He dips his chin, his lips so close to mine. “I care too much about the things I shouldn’t, and not enough about the things I should.”

Isaak brushes his lips against mine, a gentle caress that has me fisting the front of his vest like my life depends on it. More. I need more from him. I need everything he’s willing to give me but I’m afraid that isn’t going to be what we both clearly want.

Proven when Isaak lets go of me and backs up, turning away with a grunt as he digs his fingers in his hair. “It’s not right.”

“Fine,” I snap, frustration filling my voice. “Fine, you win. I’ll pretend like I don’t have feelings for you and act like I never have.” I drop down into his chair and open my laptop, powering it on to get ready for the FaceTime from hell. “What’s worse than getting my hopes up is that you turned into a goddamn tease while you did it. That’s bullshit, Isaak. You want to make excuses to keep us from being together? Cool. I won’t be held responsible for my behavior moving forward, no fucking?—“

“You are infuriating.” Isaak comes at me again, I can see it out of my peripheral vision seconds before he grabs the arms of his chair and turns me to face him. “Infuriating and stubborn.” He searches my eyes for a moment as he leans in close. “You’re so goddamn perfect it drives me crazy. And it doesn't make a bit of sense to me as to why you’d want me in any way let alone the one you’re talking about.”

Instead of saying anything, instead of arguing with him again, I sit up and grab the sides of his neck, pull him toward me and kiss him with everything I’ve got.

He tastes like candied pecans.

Sweet and a little savory.

The flavor is so strong against my lips that I instinctively push my tongue inside, exploring every bit of his mouth while his flavor explodes against my taste buds.

That’s when it happens.

A buzzing in my veins, a low humming in my ear.

My heart beats a little faster and I can’t help but think I shouldn’t feel anything but guilt for kissing Isaak.

I’m mated, bonded to two men I love.

Korvin and Des flash through my mind, a jolt of anxiety slicing through my chest for a brief moment but it doesn’t last. It doesn’t last because it’s almost as if I can hear them telling me that this is supposed to happen, that this is how it’s supposed to be. I can almost feel things clicking into place because this is what they meant last night when they saidall of us.

I don’t feel guilty because I’m not supposed to. Instead, I feel a little more whole, like another piece of my heart fell into place.

Isaak is ours, and my alphas already know.

It would have been nice if they told me but somehow I’m not surprised that they didn’t. Desmond probably made Vin promise not to just for the fun of it.

“Magnolia.” Isaak gasps as he breaks the kiss, panting heavily as he looks me in the eyes. “I don’t understand.”

”I do,” I say as I reach for his belt, my body responding even stronger to his, moving of its own accord and full of desire to bond with my omega.He is mine.“It’s unorthodox, I admit, but I don’t care. You are mine, you’re ours, and I’m going to?—“

“Maggie,” he says softly as he stills my hands and tries to regulate his breathing.

But he can’t talk his way out of this.