Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Kyle

Watching our fated mate kiss Lucas had me feeling more hope than I had business feeling. We all knew how this went. People grieved in different ways and each woman, each child, took a different path through the process when they came to us. Imogen was on her journey now, and she needed the same thing every other woman we'd helped did. Patience, support, a helping hand when needed, but not this. I shook my head, Ash's growl reminding me of this fact, but it was only just filtering through.

Because watching her kiss our sleuth mate felt so damn right.

There was surprise in her response, and there was only one reason I could think of to explain that. If I hadn't despised the prick she was with before, I did right now. For all intents and purposes, it was as if this was her first kiss too.

The first time with a guy who actually gave a crap about her.

I could see it in the way she clawed him closer, as if scared he'd pull back, hungry for more. Hungry for something she had wanted for so long, but never got. I was content to watch them for hours, the second-hand pleasure making my whole body throb, right as Asher stepped forward. He noted the potatoes bubbling furiously and rather than step forward to sort them out, he broke the spell we were all under.

That no one else wanted to escape.

I shot Asher a dark look as Imogen moved away from a dazed and pleased Lucas, towards the sink, draining the potatoes as I moved belatedly to help.

"So is everyone good with stew and mashed potato?"

Her voice was somewhat shaky, making me wonder if Asher was right and we'd let things go too far, but that's not what her scent said. The closer I got, the more that wonderfully sweet smell of honey washed over me.

"We're good with whatever you feel comfortable with, Imogen."

I hadn't meant that to come out the way it did, low and growly, more bear than me, but when she looked up, I forgot to be self-conscious. I lost myself in the brown depths of her eyes, staring long past the point of being polite. Of course Asher couldn't let that just happen.

"We haven't finished playing."

"What?" She turned away from me to face him.

"We're not done," Asher insisted. "There's one more dare."

"I'm pretty sure I've had enough truth or dare for tonight." Her reply was prim, her eyes trained on the potatoes as she upended them back into the now dry pot. A dob of butter and some milk was added.

"So dare me." Asher shook his head. "Dare us." Her brows creased and I was this close to telling him to shut the fuck up, that he shouldn't, couldn't ruin this for us. "Dare us to take care of the meal tonight."

"What? I can't do that," she said, looking through the grocery bags for a potato masher. "You've already installed a security system?—"

"A dares not supposed to be easily done," I said because I started to see the wisdom of what Asher was saying. "Otherwise there's no challenge."

"So you want…?" She stared at each one of us as if we were aliens with three heads, not just shifters waiting for our chance. Unable to work out why we'd be so insistent on helping, she shrugged. "Sure, fine." I watched her walk over to the dining table and sit down heavily. "But I'm doing the dishes."

"I dare Kyle to do the dishes," Lucas said with a cheeky grin.

"I dare you to help me," I shot back.

That settled, we went to work. Asher mashed the potatoes, then went through with a fork, breaking up all the little lumps, then I spooned the mash into four bowls. Lucas added stew on top then brought her bowl over. She eyed the contents, then ours before frowning.

"Don't you like stew?" She was half out of her seat before we could answer, noting we'd served ourselves much smaller portions. "If you didn't like it, I could've made another meal."

Imogen was about to go raking through the pantry, looking for something else, but I headed her off at the pass.

"It smells…" I sank my spoon into the soft mash and collected up some of the meat, taking a bite before groaning in pleasure. "And tastes incredible."

"So do you guys have a dinner date later or…?"

"I didn't know if you had made enough to last you a few meals," I replied, trying to keep my tone light. People focussed on the emotional journey of leaving an abusive relationship but didn't realise the financial one could be just as brutal.

"You…" She marched over to the kitchen, grabbing a chopping board and setting it down on the table, then hoisting the stock pot in the air and put it down between us. "I made dinner to say thank you, so having tiny little portions kind of defeats the purpose. Eat."

That imperious tone, the way her dimple popped into view when her lips twisted into a smile, I liked that a whole lot. I could almost imagine her getting bossy about other things. I nodded in her direction, then dug my spoon in and tasted, only to taste heaven.

"Oh my freaking god…" Luc mumbled, and I felt a moment of solidarity. "This is?—"

"Amazing. Nectar of the gods."

When I reached for the serving spoon, I discovered it'd be a fight for more. Lucas had the exact same idea, his eyes narrowing. I bared my teeth, careful not to reveal my fangs and he did the same until Imogen burst out laughing. She intervened, taking the spoon from both of our grips and then filled our bowls with the savoury dish. Herbs, the umami of lamb, celery, carrots, it all burst on the tongue, cut through with the almost sweetness of the mashed potato. I ate mouthful after mouthful until I found myself scraping the bottom of the bowl in an attempt to summon more.

"Grandma Helen's recipe never fails," Imogen said.

"Is there anything else you need done?" I looked the place over quickly. "Hinges lubricated? A dripping sink fixed? Anything for more food like that."

I liked the pretty pink blush in her cheeks, right before Asher spoke.

"Do you think you could cook meals like that on a larger scale?"

"What?"

Her smile faded as my mind raced, trying to think of a way to bring it back, but Asher forged on.

"We have a commercial kitchen at our headquarters, but it can be difficult to retain staff. Good, solid, stick-to-your-ribs food like this."

I saw then that Asher had polished his stew off super fast as well, which was saying something. He tended to treat food like it was a necessary evil, so watching him eat had my brain ticking.

His too.

"Too often the women we help are forced to cook for themselves," Asher continued. "We have a company delivering meals for us currently, but they aren't great. You'd have the kitchen to yourself, or we could hire staff if you liked. I'm pretty sure we could offer a better pay deal than what you're getting at the supermarket."

This was prime Asher, making decisions without our input, but right now I couldn't argue. It made perfect sense. Imogen would be somewhere safe most of the day. Our bears would be soothed by the fact she was in our space. And bringing in more money? That had to be attractive to her. I turned then, anticipating her yes.

"You really take this charity thing seriously," she said, her eyes creasing at the corners. "Helping me move, buying me groceries, protecting me from my dumb ex." Imogen looked around the apartment, seeing all the adjustments we'd made. "But you must have other people who need your help more." I watched her rise to her feet, go to collect the now empty dishes, but I couldn't allow that to happen. My hands were reaching for them before she could react, dumping them in the sink, then collecting all the other things used for cooking. "Maybe you should be getting back to the real victims."

I felt her eyes on me as I ran the water, filling the sink, but focussed on finding the dishwashing liquid and a sponge rather than Imogen's searching look. We couldn't avoid her for long though.

"Truth or dare?" I asked as I sank the bowls into the water, starting to scrub them clean.

"What?"

"Truth or dare, Imogen?"

My eyes met hers and I wondered then if she saw a hint of my bear. Fur didn't appear, nor did my fangs, but he was there, staring out at her. She shook her head and then answered, "Truth."

"Do you want us out of here? Does having us around make you feel uncomfortable? Are you longing to just have some time and space to yourself?"

"That's a whole lot of questions," she said.

"You opted for truth," I replied.

"I didn't think we were playing anymore?"

"Who said we were playing?" I removed my hands from the water, letting the bowl I'd been cleaning sink under the suds. "So truth or?—?"

"You being here…" She looked around, seeing we had an audience for the first time. "It feels like a parachute slowing my descent, but its not going to stop me coming down to earth hard. I need to know when its going to cut out on me, because then I'll be in freefall, going down, down, down." I could almost hear the sharp whine of a bomb being dropped in my ear. "The only way I'll survive is by anticipating the moment I'll be on my own."

My mouth opened, ready to say something, anything, to reassure her, without revealing what we were to her, but Asher stepped forward.

"Truth or dare?"

"It's not my turn this time," she said.

"No, it's not. Ask me."

I watched her shift then, a restless energy rising in the face of his implacable stare, but she did as she was asked.

"Truth or?—"

"Truth." His hands were shoved into his jeans pockets as he took control, the same way he always did. "We'll be here, with you, until such point as you don't want us around, so don't worry." Imogen and I snorted at that, because I think we both knew our brains didn't work that way. "The job is yours for as long as you want it. I'll have contracts drawn up, whatever you need. If you want to stay at the supermarket, then we'll make sure you're safe when you go to and from work. Experience tells me that people have let you down. They saw what Mike was doing and refused to step in and help you, perhaps because you weren't ready to leave."

He shook his head slowly.

"That's not us. We know what we're doing, how to help you make this adjustment. Moving beyond surviving to thriving, that's always been our goal, now, I dare you to let Kyle finish the dishes and clean up the kitchen."

"I…" Hope springs eternal, and it roared to the fore again in me. That tiny waver told us she was at least open to the idea of us looking after her. "I guess I can start unpacking some boxes."

"And we can help you," Lucas said.

"Not that box."

Imogen leapt forward to grab a smaller one, hustling towards the bedroom with it.

"What's in the box, Imogen?" I asked, flicking the suds off my fingers and following hot on her heels. "Imogen?"

"You said you wanted to help?" she said, grabbing the door handle. "Then do the dishes."

The door was shut firmly in my face, but I just smiled. I'd clean every dish, wipe down every counter top, leave the old kitchen gleaming, and then… Then I'd see if I could get her to share what was in that box. With a sly grin, I turned back to the sink.