Page 110 of Storm

He smiles, a real smile that transforms his usually stern features. "Don't tell anyone. I have a reputation to maintain."

I reach up on my tiptoes, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. "Your secret's safe with me."

Jonathan's expression shifts, surprise giving way to something warmer, more intimate. He leans down, capturing my lips in a deeper kiss that leaves me breathless. When he pulls back, his eyes are darker, his scent richer.

"If you keep looking at me like that," he warns, "we'll need to clean this room twice."

I laugh, the sound bright in the warm room. "Is that a promise, Jonathan?"

His eyes darken further, and he takes a deliberate step toward me. "It's whatever you want it to be, Little Storm."

The nickname, once an irritation, now sends a pleasant shiver down my spine. I reach for him, my fingers curling into the fabric of his crisp button-down shirt. Jonathan's hand comes up to cup my face, his thumb tracing the curve of my cheekbone with unexpected tenderness. "You smell like Fox," he smiles. "And my brother." His brow raises. And I laugh.

"Is that gonna be a problem?"

Chapter30

Fox

The kitchen fills with morning light, turning everything golden as I flip over the pancakes on the griddle. I hum softly as I work, aware of the new scent lingering beneath my own. Storm's dark chocolate has mingled with my honey and chamomile, creating something richer, more complex. It's been two days since our encounter in the media room, and I can't get it out of my mind. The way she looked at me, the way her body felt under mine.

The sounds of footsteps pull me from my thoughts. I glance up to see Frankie entering the kitchen, his hair still damp from a shower, his expression brightening when he spots me.

"Morning," he says, his voice carrying that gentle tone that never fails to ease the tension I still carry in my shoulders. "Need any help?"

He's handsome in an understated way. Tall and lean, with warm brown eyes that crinkle at the corners when he smiles. His cinnamon and toasted marshmallow beta scent is subtle, but it makes my mouth water. I realize he is staring at me now, waiting for my response.

"You can slice the strawberries," I offer, sliding a bowl toward him.

He takes up position beside me at the counter, our arms occasionally brushing as we work. Each brief contact sends a pleasant warmth through me, making me increasingly aware of his proximity. It's different than with the alphas—less overwhelming, easier to breathe through.

"You seem different today," Frankie observes after a while, his gaze curious as it watches me. "More... relaxed."

I smile, allowing my scent to sweeten slightly. "Am I?"

"Definitely." He returns the smile, a hint of pink touching his cheeks.

The simple compliment warms me more than it should. I've grown accustomed to Alex's devoted attention, to the careful respect Reed and Jonathan show me. But there's something uniquely appealing about Frankie's gentle appreciation. No expectations, no history of having seen me at my worst.

"Maybe I'm just happy," I reply, deliberately leaning closer to reach for more berries, letting my arm press against his for a heartbeat longer than necessary.

Frankie's scent shifts subtly, the cinnamon notes growing stronger. He clears his throat, focusing intently on slicing strawberries, but I don't miss the small smile playing at his lips. "Any particular reason?"

"Maybe I just enjoy the company," I say, looking up at him through my lashes.

His blush deepens, spreading down his neck. I find myself fascinated by it, by how easily his body betrays his emotions. It's refreshing.

"Fox," Alex's voice comes from the doorway, warm with amusement. "Are you flirting with our beta?"

I glance over my shoulder to find my alpha leaning against the doorframe, his green eyes dancing with mischief rather than jealousy. He looks relaxed this morning, dressed in worn jeans and a simple t-shirt, his dark hair still mussed from sleep. So different from his twin. Jonathan would never be caught looking anything less than perfectly polished.

"Maybe a little," I admit, not bothering to hide my smile. "Does that bother you?"

Alex pushes off from the doorframe, crossing the kitchen to join us. "Not at all," he says, his voice dipping lower as he reaches us.

His hand settles at the small of my back, a possessive touch I lean into automatically. But his attention is fixed on Frankie, whose blush has intensified under Alex's gaze.

"You don't mind, do you, Frankie?" Alex asks, his voice soft and sincere.