16
BLT
Artemis
S ince Jay drove to the Packhouse for the meeting, my options are shifting and running back to the Cabin or riding with Saint. Magnus just told the entire Pack not to run alone, so the smarter choice would be to go with Saint. Before walking out of the brick building, Jay kissed my lips staggeringly and said he'd be home later.
Sam is already speeding towards old Grimes's place, her white Bronco disappearing down the curve in the road. The forest lines either side of the blacktop, bare trees reaching up to the gray clouds. It looks like it could rain or snow at any moment.
Since I'm allowing Saint to steer me towards his Jeep with the arm he still has slung across my shoulders, I assume he has a plan. Jay has to stay and help his dad with Pack business, and Dante is stuck behind with him, leaving just Saint and me to return to the Cabin. "So what now?" I ask, tilting my face towards his.
"Are you hungry?" Saint asks, opening the passenger side of his obnoxious orange SUV. I hop in, buckling my seatbelt.
"I could eat." I concede.
Saint doesn't reply until he's seated on the driver's side, pulling out of the parking spot. "Then, food first. I don't have plans for after. What do you want to do?"
"What are my options?"
"Movie marathon, working out in the basement, reading, we can go for a run together. Whatever you want, really."
"Hmm, how about we figure the rest out after we eat," I laugh, watching the quiet town pass in a blur.
"Sounds good, Tiny." Saint agrees, and I can't help the blush that rises to my cheeks. He's called me that since we met, and yet now that I know how he moans the nickname, what his voice sounds like when it's thick with lust. It's distracting... He's distracting.
Saint doesn't seem to notice, turning the radio on and immediately picking up the notes of the songs. In what feels like no time, we're pulling into the long driveway for the Cabin, parking in the space next to my Stingray.
"What do you want to eat?" He asks as we enter the house together.
"Doesn't matter, but I do want to put comfy clothes back on," I answer, darting up the stairs to do just that, Saint's light laughter following me. Jay and I's room is at the end of the hall. Saint is in the middle, and Dante's is at the far end. As I reach the top of the stairs, I hear the faint chop chop chop of Saint prepping ingredients for whatever he's cooking for us.
When I re-emerge from my room wearing one of Jay's oversized tees and shorts, I hear the sizzle of meat being thrown into a hot pan. I don't have to go down the stairs to know what it is.
"Mmm, bacon ," I hum as I cross the kitchen threshold, the aroma already filling the space.
I've never met someone whose clothes seem to disappear like Saint's shirts do whenever he enters the kitchen. He still has pants on, though they are sitting so low on his hips that I can see the indentations on either side of his hips that make a v shape and that damn vine tattoo. The belt slung through the loops of his jeans is, apparently, ineffective.
"Blt's for the babe with the brown eyes," Saint replies, smiling at me. The blush that creeps up my neck is unavoidable, so I just look at what he has prepped. The cutting board has the sliced tomato and iceberg lettuce you'd expect to find on a BLT. Alongside it, though, lay a few cuts of pepper jack cheese and thinly sliced avocado.
"Looks like too many ingredients for a BLT to me, Cinnamon."
"I'm offended if you think I'd serve you just a plain old BLT, Tiny."
"Well, you know what they say about assuming," I reply, sitting on one of the stools at the island.
"It makes an ass out of you?"
"Yep. I guess I'm an asshole, Cinnamon." I answer, propping my chin on my interlaced hands, watching him fry bacon. Shirtless Saint in the kitchen is on my everyday wish list. The tall window panes begin to ping with the sound of rain falling from the sky. At first, it's just a few here and there until it suddenly turns into a full-on storm. It is barely forty degrees outside today, so it would be miserable to go out now.
"I don't think that counts as an apology, Tiny."
"Sure doesn't," I answer sweetly, watching him butter slices of sourdough bread, neatly assemble the sandwiches, and then toast them on a hot cast iron.
Saint just smirks to himself, toasting the BLTs to golden perfection.
"So these sandwiches are mine then?" Saint asks, placing the crispy sandwiches on a plate.
" No, no," I gush, opening my hands. "I would like one, please. Sorry for making an ass out of myself."
"That's better," Saint replies, placing the plate on the counter between us and then going towards the fridge. I can't help but watch the muscles on his back ripple as he walks away. He returns with a couple of drinks clutched in one hand.
This demanding side is not one that I'd expected. Something tells me that Saint would be just as dominant as Jay in the bedroom if he were alone with his partner. Sometimes, it's easy to forget that he is a Beta, a dominant wolf himself. He is not an Alpha like Jay, but the weight of command will be shared with him and Dante when Jay takes over for Magnus one day.
While Saint and I eat our food, we discuss what movie we want to watch. I'm team comedy, he's team classic.
"What's so wrong with just a comedy?" I ask around a mouthful of bacon.
"Nothing, except they are all the same."
"They are not. That's such a cynical way of looking at it." I fire back, ready for that argument.
"Yes, they are. The main character is a goofy guy that studios want you to believe is unattractive while they hire the most generic model bro out there who does some stupid shit; people let him get away with it because he's quirky , and somehow he 'saves the day' while still having excellent timing with his snappy comebacks. And sometimes the love interest who clearly does not give a shit about him is madly in love with him by the end."
My mouth flaps open, admittedly caught off guard by his remark. "Well. Aside from that. Doesn't make your perspective any less cynical, though."
"So we'll watch one of my picks, then," Saint replies, a smirk on his mouth and mischief dancing in his striking green eyes.
"Alright, alright. This time, Cinnamon." I agree, sweeping crumbs from the table onto my plate.
"Go get the couch set up, I'll clean up." Saint orders, taking both the plate and my soda can.
With only a tiny eye-roll, I go to do just that. The oversized couch is comfortable, but I want my feet up, too. So I push the footrest in, tossing pillows into the corners of the sofa to lean on, and grabbing my favorite blanket down here. Saint emerges just as I'm settling under the covers. He's also changed, trading his jeans for gym shorts and, unfortunately, the green t-shirt back on his frame.
"So what movie are we watching, Cinnamon?"
"Ratatouille." Saint deadpans.
I choke on a laugh. "W-what?" He can't be serious.
"The rat who cooks? You know what I'm talking about, right, Tiny?"
"Yes, I'm familiar. I just didn't realize you considered a children's animated film a classic. Is that okay, Cinnamon?" I fire back, grinning at him.
"Sure, ready?" Saint asks, waggling his eyebrows and pointing the remote at the TV.
"Go for it."
He smiles, pressing play on the remote, tucking his legs under the covers with mine. His skin is warm against my bare toes. Rain still tinkles against the window panes high up in the peaks, drumming against the roof. It's a quiet, peaceful backdrop for Saint's movie. I've seen it, of course, but not for a long while.
I don't know what makes me ask, but the words come tumbling out anyway. "How long have you lived in the Hollow, Saint?"
"Almost six years."
"Where were you before then?"
Saint swallows audibly before answering. "My Alpha kicked me out on my eighteenth birthday. Jay and I became friends a year or two later after that when he was in the Rockies one summer."
Jay was in the Rockies? My wolf's golden eyes crack open, her claws clicking against my skull.
"So you were alone?"
"Yeah. And I don't know how you did it for as long as you did. You never joined a pack?"
"No. Nowhere felt like home." I shrug, curling my legs under me. "Why didn't you join?"
"Wasn't for lack of trying, Tiny. No one wanted a wolf like me."
"Sounds pretty dumb, if you ask me."
Saint shrugs this time. "I can't blame them anymore. Adding a new dominant male who hasn't been in the chain of command for a few years could be disastrous for many packs. I grew up thinking my father was the Alpha and I would be the next."
"Jay doesn't care, though."
"No, he doesn't. He's my brother in all ways except blood."
"Hmm." I murmur back, staring through the TV screen before I ask, "So, you're from the Rockies?"
"Sort of. The tail end of them anyway."
I snort. "What does that mean?"
"Wyoming," Saint snarks, making an arc in the air with his hand.
I laugh, suddenly relieved. I'd been in Montana during my Rocky Mountain… excursion. "Sounds magical ," I gush, looking up at him. And then my breath gets caught in my throat.
Saint is staring at me, green eyes bouncing between my eyes and mouth. My heart is jumping in my chest, and I want this—I want him to kiss me. I catch my bottom lip between my teeth, gnawing on it slightly. I have Jay, and part of me wonders if he would even care after last night.
But… Fuck, I want Saint to kiss me anyway. I want him to cross that boundary.
Saint doesn't, though; he merely pushes a strand of hair behind my ear. But I make my decision. Fuck it. I'll ask for forgiveness later.
With trembling fingers, I rise to my knees, tilt Sain't face back, and kiss him. Deep and thoroughly. Settling across his lap, Saint's hands trail up my thighs, gripping my hips as he meets the kiss, tongue dancing with mine. I moan softly in his mouth when he threads his fingers through my hair, the other arm banding around my ribs.
With heaving breaths, we pull apart. Saint's lips are parted, eyes glazed over. He looks awestruck . And that makes my chest pinch. I smile at him, then go back to where I was sitting. Saint takes a moment to recover, but then he tucks me into his side, arm around my shoulders. I go willingly, resting my head on his shoulder. I can't help but feel a little…guilty. Will I pull the Pack apart by kissing Saint while I'm with Jay?
Tension lingers in the air, or maybe it's just me who is tense. I feel like a livewire ready to ignite.
Instead of perching on top of Saint again and letting the night lead where it may, I throw monumental effort into relaxing all my muscles one by one. I start at my toes, uncurling them, then my calves, tucked under the blanket. Saint's leg is stretched to the side, invading my space. I could drape my thighs across his, and I doubt he'd mind. And then, I swear he can hear my thoughts because he hooks his arm under my knees, settling my legs across his lap.
Saint's phone pings, and when he unlocks it, I see Angel's name flash across his notification bar with the words "Hey Cutie" next to her name before I force myself to look away and refocus on relaxing.
You have no right to be pissy about that, Artemis.
I start at my jaw this time, unclenching those muscles before taking a deep breath. And then another, and another.
Eventually, I managed to relax, only half watching the movie. I'm paying more attention to my breathing and the storm outside. If it were still the middle of summer, I would run in a storm like this. And that is the problem with the cooler months. When you get wet, you get cold. I fucking hate being cold.
My thoughts edy around, and sometimes my attention grabs on the movie, and I chuckle, but it's much rarer compared to how often Saint laughs. Sometimes, he shakes with it, shoulders bouncing enough that I almost feel at risk for a concussion.
I miss the movie's end, the rain tinkling on the window panes, lulling me into deep sleep.
Jay
It is well past midnight when I make it back to the Cabin. Unsurprisingly, Dante goes straight upstairs for a shower when he crosses the house's threshold. The wolf treats showers like a religious experience. It took him an entire month to decide on the showerhead he purchased for his bathroom.
The messages on my phone from Saint tell me they're in the living room. The picture attached to the last message is of my gorgeous girl sleeping peacefully, a small puddle of drool darkening Saint's shoulder.
I find them in the exact positions the photo showed, Artemis dead to the world, drooling on Saint's shoulder.
"Did you have a good day?" I ask my brother, wholly focused on the sleeping beauty next to him. Her legs are half thrown over him, arms curled around his.
"Yeah. I fed her, we watched a movie, and she fell asleep almost immediately." He turns off the TV, setting the remote on the arm of the couch.
"That's all?"
"Well, I'm pretty sure she wanted me to kiss her earlier, but I didn't."
"Why not?" I ask, knowing I probably would have if our positions were switched. Resisting Artemis when I know she wants me is almost impossible.
" Because," Saint drawls, "she also looked sad."
"Ah." I search for words for a second… reluctant to admit that c oaching someone—even Saint—on how to get into my girls' good graces sometimes feels strange.
"She kissed me, though," Saint admits smugly.
I chuckle, looking at the sleeping beauty. "Sounds about right." That's how we'd started up again. She kissed me over the bar. "Do you want to come upstairs while I chill before bed? I'm not going to leave her on the couch."
"Sure," Saint replies, uncovering himself while keeping the blanket over Artemis. I scoop her into my arms easily. My brother follows me out of the living room, stretching his shoulders and back as he walks.
Artemis mumbles, "Saint?" after I take a few steps. She must think I'm him, carrying her to bed.
"Don't worry, Gorgeous. He's coming too," I reply into her hair, pressing a kiss to her temple. She smells like the cool forest air.
Home. She smells like home. My wolf murmurs, ice-blue eyes staring out of the depths of my subconscious.
"Hmm, hi, Handsome." Artemis mumbles, snuggling into my neck. Then she whispers a quiet "Thank you."
"Anything for you, Gorgeous."
She hums, then presses a soft kiss to the underside of my jaw before snuggling deeper into my arms, and I feel it when she drifts back to sleep just as I reach the stairs. Artemis stays asleep the entire way, only stirring again lightly when I place her on our big bed. Saint sits next to Artemis, pulling her head into his lap and combing his fingers through the blonde strands.
I hear her hum once more low in her throat, the sound heating my blood. Instead of rousing her from sleep and having another round with Saint, even if that is what I'd much rather do, I point my thumb over my shoulder to the bathroom, saying, "I'll be right back."
After showering quickly, I return to the room, finding Saint has fallen asleep, fingers tangled in Artemis' hair. Smiling softly to myself, I climb into bed behind my girl and snuggle in.