Chapter 8

eight

TOMMAS

Jogging down the steps, I flicked my shower-damp hair out of my eyes. I’d almost made it to the bottom when the softest feminine sound disconnected my brain from the rest of my goddamned body. I nearly fell off the last step, stumbling into the living room like a fuckin’ idiot. The scent hit me with the force of a wrecking ball—dark, mossy earth and flowers mingled with our various signatures. My gaze snapped across the open floor plan to the kitchen island.

Kitania sat nestled against Gio’s side, my old academy shirt engulfing her petite frame, the fabric hanging off one delicate shoulder. Hunger detonated low in my gut at the sight of her in my clothes, marked with my scent. A deeply primal part of me roared in approval.

“How the fuck did this happen?” I murmured mostly to myself, still awestruck, my nostrils flaring as I drank in that addictive fragrance of my Omega.

Dimitri and Marco looked up from the stove and counter where they puttered around, clearly lingering to bask in Kitania’s presence. My Butterfly startled, those ice-blue eyes flitting to me with a flash of wariness before recognition replaced it.

I cursed the shadows that lurked there and the nervous ticks that told me I’d frightened her—like her fidgeting fingers and the way her gaze darted, always aware of her surroundings, looking for the next threat.

Fuck. I hated that I’d scared her.

Pretending I hadn’t startled her, I sauntered into the kitchen. “Mornin’.”

“Hi,” Kitania said softly as a mouse. You had to be quiet to hear her, but I’d silence the whole damn world just to listen to that sweet voice.

I shot her a wink, happy as a pig in mud when she blushed and dipped her head. But not before I caught the way her lips curled in the corners.

And goddamn if her signature mixing with our pack’s essence didn’t feel… right . Like she belonged here, the center of our protective little circle.

Shoving down the urgency to yank her against me and rub my cheek over hers to scent-mark her, I rounded the island. Her delicate fingers reflexively tightened on her utensils as I approached. My brother’s arm flexed around her waist, securing her against his solid frame.

With an approving rumble, I positioned myself opposite them, propping my hands on the counter across from her. “Wearin’ my shirt, Butterfly?”

Gio shot me a warning glare, but Kitania drew herself up a fraction. “I-I didn’t have anything clean. Yours was the first one I found in the pile of clothing left in my room.” She nibbled her plush lower lip, uncertainty rolling off her in waves. “Is that okay? I can change—”

The need to soothe her, abolish every shred of fear and doubt, slammed into me with staggering force. “Hey, no. Not what I meant, I swear.” I gentled my tone, leaning closer to drown her in the earthy notes of my scent. “You can wear my shit anytime you want. And fuck, Butterfly,” I raked my gaze down her body, then back up again appreciatively, “it looks way better on you than it ever did on me.”

It didn’t matter that the clothes practically drowned her small frame. She’d look incredible in anything, but there was a wicked kind of possession that rose at seeing her in our stuff. I let the hungry desire blazing in my veins pour into my scent. Her pupils expanded, her pert nose rising to catch more of my signature. To draw it into herself.

My cock, which had been semi-hard since we found our pretty little Omega, hardened in a second.

Gio’s growl practically vibrated the marble countertop. “Cool it, Tommy.”

I barked a laugh, winking at my skittish mate. “Just sayin’, you’re fuckin’ welcome to raid my closet any time, beautiful.”

Kitania ducked her head, but I glimpsed the shy smile curving those kissable lips. Contentment seeped into my bones, fueling the dark, insistent yearning to keep her close, to help her heal, to make her ours.

“Speaking of wardrobes…” Dimitri’s smooth baritone sliced through the heated tension.

I flicked my gaze over to my eldest brother, the lead Alpha of our pack. He stood with his back against the counter, arms folded across his broad chest. Shrewd eyes assessed the scene—my possessive stance, Kitania’s blush, the way Gio’s fingers caressed her hip in a subtle show of possession. A faint smirk curved D’s lips.

“I was thinking we should take our mate shopping today.” His words hung in the air, igniting a fresh burst of Kitania’s fresh, floral scent—surprise and uncertainty swirling through the notes.

I frowned immediately, not because I didn’t want her to have good shit, but because I loved seeing her in my things so damn much. I was reluctant to see it end. It was an impulsively selfish reaction, and I tamped it down just as quickly as it rose, especially when Kitania gaped at my older brother.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” she rushed to protest, ever the selfless creature. “I’m fine with the few borrowed things I have.”

My chest constricted at how hastily she downplayed her own needs. I wanted to drown her in silks and cashmere, anything to see her swathed in luxury after all the shit she’d been through.

“I can just wash them when I need to and wear them again.” I saw her eyes pinch in the corners at the idea of washing them. How she turned her nose into her shoulder to take another hit of scent off my t-shirt.

Fuck me. This girl was gonna be the end of me. In the best damn way.

“Nonsense, Kitten,” Dimitri chided. “This is your home now. I want you to feel comfortable here, not like a guest.”

Kitania looked stuck somewhere between feeling flattered and absolutely devastated at the idea of not wearing our things.

“Hey, Butterfly. He’s not saying you can’t wear our stuff,” I promised. “Pretty sure I speak for all of us when I say we love seeing you in our clothes, covered in our scents.”

“But you should have belongings of your own, too,” Marco added, fully on board with this plan. “But as Tommy mentioned earlier, you’re welcome to my closet anytime you want, Angel. Our home is your home. Our things are yours now, too.”

I realized then the gravity of what we were talking about.

I straightened like a fire poker had been pressed into my back. “Did—Did you agree to stay?” I gazed at my Omega, holding my damn breath.

Kitania’s eyes widened, round and guileless, a deep ocean of innocence that sucker-punched me in the gut. Those baby blues shimmered with a jumble of emotions—hope, longing, trepidation.

“Is that okay with you?” she asked softly, her melodic voice quiet and meek.

A strangled sound broke free from my chest—a laugh torn between absolute elation and harrowing disbelief. How could this incredible creature even need to ask? After everything she’d endured, did she honestly doubt our desperation to keep her safely ensconced in our world? And that didn’t begin to cover how hard I’d already imprinted on her. Not like a wolf or anything. But my Alpha was fully attached, completely taken with her. She was our scent match, and there was no damn way I could stand by and watch her walk out that door.

I dragged a hand through my damp hair, the other braced on the counter as I leaned across it, needing to be closer to her intoxicating presence. “Butterfly, I want nothing more than you livin’ here. With us. Bein’ ours, lettin’ us take care of you,” I confessed, hoping I’d thoroughly conveyed the depth of emotion that gripped me.

That delicious blush deepened in her cheeks, staining them the color of pink roses. She nibbled that plump lower lip, teeth catching the soft flesh in that unconsciously sensual way that drove me half-mad. When she finally released it, moisture glistened there, begging for my tongue.

Her voice was stronger this time. More certain, as she declared, “Then it looks like I’m staying.”