Page 27

He hung up, hands still shaking as he dropped the phone onto the bed.

It stood to reason that she’d find him eventually. He’d only redirected his post from the estate agents two weeks prior, so some of it was bound to slip through the net. He should have known she wouldn’t come directly. Underhand, always underhand, just like with his suppressants.

To top it all off, his new prescription had been waiting for him in the postbox, as well as a voucher for half-priced artificial knots. The doctor was trying to be kind, but it felt like some sort of sick joke.

He stood, running a hand through his hair. It was messy, and getting long enough that he’d need to cut it soon, but then he thought, Fuck it, right? Why not grow it long, just like his mum hated. Maybe he would. Maybe he’d grow it down to his fucking waist and braid it like he used to.

Pushing off the mattress, he gasped, remembering that he’d slammed the door in Blake’s face.

He went to the front bedroom, moving around the empty bedframe and looking out of the window.

His brow softened when he saw Blake sitting on the wall at the bottom of his path.

He must have changed at some point, because George was draped over his jogging bottom-clad legs.

Swallowing, Pember pressed his lips together and slowly made his way back downstairs. Blake looked up at the sound of the front door, and Pember said nothing as he let it swing open. Without glancing at the alpha at the bottom of the path, he shuffled through his living room and mumbled, “Come in.”

Pember was standing at the kitchen sink when Blake’s footsteps finally paused at the threshold of his home.

There was another pause, as though he was debating whether to actually enter.

Eventually he did, slipping off his shoes and placing them by the door.

His steps were quiet and careful as he padded over the rug and through the archway into the kitchen.

His tall, warm figure pressed against Pember’s arm.

“Sorry about that,” Pember said, clearing his throat and plastering on a smile. He picked up a peeler, then started on one of the washed potatoes in the colander in the sink. “Must have got the wrong address.”

He felt more than saw Blake’s head slowly turn, but couldn’t bring himself to look up, because he’d most definitely see the lie in his eyes.

“Was that your old mate?” Blake said, the bluntness of the question catching Pember off guard. “Is he the reason you moved here?”

Pember blinked, then shook his head. “No. I’ve never met him before.”

He carried on peeling, and Blake sighed when he said nothing more. Letting out a long breath, his eyes flitted over Pember’s tense jaw. “You weren’t wrong, earlier. In the field. When you said I was being blasé about what happened last year. I was. I am.”

Pember looked up, sensing an olive branch.

“Because being indifferent about the whole thing is a hell of a lot easier than the alternative.”

Pember’s hand moved faster over the potatoes, each pass of the peeler threatening to slip and slide into his skin.

His eyes were welling up, and he was beginning to regret letting the alpha inside his home.

That was until Blake rested a hand over both of his own, tugging the potato and the peeler away.

He took over where Pember left off, leaving him to grip the edge of the sink.

“It was like clinical torture,” Blake continued.

“Breaking the bond. They take you into this little room and inject you with shitloads of medication. They did the same to her, of course, except when it started to take effect she was immediately taken into a side room where Adam was ready and waiting to give her his bite. They said it would be best. Doing it like that. For Adam’s bond with the baby.

I… I was left in there on my own, feeling like my damned teeth were going to fall out.

It’s been over a year and I still wake up in the middle of the night thinking my fangs have come loose.

It affects my shifts. Makes my wolf unstable. ”

Pember’s bottom lip started trembling, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. After his sister passed away, he thought his tear ducts had shrivelled up and died with her. Whenever he felt the urge to cry, his face went numb and his jaw pulled tight. But now… now with Blake standing there…

“I haven’t shifted since last summer,” he said quietly, not meeting Blake’s gaze. “I’ve never been very good at it, but… my mum. My mum forbade it. She sent that guy. It’s her way of telling me she knows where I am.”

Blake paused, dropping the peeler onto the draining board. “Is she harassing you?”

Pember shook his head. “It hasn’t got that far.”

There was another pause, then: “Is this to do with your sister, then?”

Pember sniffed and bit the inside of his cheek. “It has both everything, and nothing to do with her. I told you my family’s messed up, and I’d appreciate it if we could leave it at that.”

The words came out far sharper than he’d intended, but raising his hackles was easier than letting himself feel something.

But Blake was there, warm at his side, breathing slowly and smelling like safety.

And as Pember’s eyes drifted up to his face, the tears finally came free.

He covered his face as he cried, the shame and the guilt too much to bear.

Blake said nothing, only shifted his arm and pulled Pember beneath it. He barely knew Blake. That was the reality. But still the alpha was a quiet presence, a gentle touch, a silent promise that he wasn’t alone amongst the metric boatload of shit.

“I’m sorry,” Pember whispered, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “I was wrong to tell you how to feel. I can’t fix your past, any more than you can fix mine.”

Blake’s thumb traced a meandering line across his ribs, navigating a feather-light path to his hip. The intimacy of the tiny touch made Pember’s breath hitch.

“A-and… thank you. For helping with that guy. My mum, she… she was obsessed with finding me a mate.”

Blake let out a long breath, turning to brush a thumb over Pember’s damp cheek. “She sounds extremely selfish.”

Pember shook his head. “I’m the selfish one. I left home when she needed me most. I should have… I should have been more patient. Given her the time she needed to grieve my sister.”

Blake’s eyes flitted over his face, his neck, his ears, before his gaze drifted out the window.

He looked like he wanted to say something, but was hesitant.

“You… Last year. When you met Patrick Coletta.” He paused as though testing the waters.

When Pember nodded, he continued. “Forgive me, but was that before your sister died?”

Pember nodded again.

“So, in reality, this type of behaviour has been going on a while?”

“Yeah. As soon as I hit puberty. She put me on really strong suppressants, so even when she had me meet people, I couldn’t really tell if we were compatible or not.

I think… I don’t know, but as omegas, we’re taught to trust our instincts, but it’s like I had no instincts to trust. My wolf is…

silent, most of the time. It got better as I got older.

My scent glands developed and I learned to use my head over anything else.

But the connection with my wolf is… not good. ”

Blake nodded, letting a playful smile creep over his face. “Your instincts seem fine to me. You won Val over easily enough…” There was a pause, then: “…and me.”

If Pember’s heart rate had only been mildly elevated before, it was like a stampede of wild horses now. “W-well,” he squeaked, “perhaps I slipped you something in the apple pie. Made you more amenable to my charms.”

The words came out in a hurried jumble, because Blake’s thumb had taken to pressing against his lower lip without him even noticing. Pember leant into the touch, inadvertently parting his lips and letting the tip of his tongue glide over his teeth. Blake’s eyes darkened when it touched his skin.

There were no sinister mothers, or dead sisters or cheating ex-wives in that moment.

There was no murder case, heart conditions and certainly no office gossip.

In that moment, there was only a pool of desire rippling deep within Pember's belly as Blake tilted his chin and pressed their lips together.