6. Cameras and First Kisses

JASPER

S torm clouds roll over the treetops along the north-east edge of our territory. Onyx carries a box of electronics as Slate picks out spots to install security cameras. They’re rated for all-weather outdoor use, so a few raindrops aren’t going to interrupt our work.

The increased monitoring along our shared border will allow me to breathe easier. Heath allowed Hawthorne and I to pick out the tech, and Onyx helped because he’s good with electronics.

“Hazel told me Marigold is staying with you,” Slate says, looking straight ahead.

Onyx swings around, his mouth gaping. Thankfully, he manages to control himself long enough to hear my answer.

“She had some issue with her grandma and asked to crash with me.” Shrugging, I say, “The cabin has two bedrooms. It would be dumb to tell her no.” That might be downplaying it, but I don’t like how stiff Slate’s posture is.

“Wait, how long have you guys been living together?” Onyx asks.

Sighing, I rake my fingers through my hair and push it out of my eyes. “About a week.”

“She could've stayed with us. We have a second bedroom too,” Slate says. I frown, really not wanting to have this conversation, but luckily Onyx jumps in.

He snorts. “Really, dude? You guys are so handsy, we’re all glad your cabin is one of the farthest away. No one wants to stay with you.”

My brother glares at Onyx with an expression that would stop me in my tracks, but Onyx just barks out a laugh.

“It’s no big deal. I’ve got plenty of space and she’s nice to have around,” I say.

Slate halts, looking up at a gnarly oak tree. “How about this one?”

I breathe in, testing the scents. Our scent is starting to fade here, but the hint of Ironcrest is so faint, I almost can’t smell it.

“Looks good to me.” Grabbing a low branch, I haul myself up, anchoring my back against the trunk and wedging my feet against the largest lower branches.

“So she’s baking in your kitchen, singing in your shower, walking around in her bunny slippers.” Onyx hands up a little camera along with the hooks and a screwdriver.

“I don’t think you have a clue what women behave like,” I say dryly.

He doesn’t need to know I was the one baking in our kitchen. Marigold does have a lovely singing voice in the shower - also something I don’t want to share.

Onyx gives me a strange look, his typical grin absent. Whatever he sees must irritate him, because he scowls at the tree trunk.

Flicking the camera on, I hold it against the trunk where there’s a split that will camouflage the tech.

“Angle it down a bit,” Slate says, monitoring the live feed with his phone. I adjust per his instructions. “Perfect. This one gives a really clear view.”

It only takes a moment to affix the security camera in place. I hand the tools back down to Onyx and then lower myself onto the nearest branch before letting myself drop. Leaves flurry around my feet as I land.

“How many more?” I ask.

“Three,” Onyx answers sullenly.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Nothing,” he says, refusing to look back at me.

A fine mist of rain filters down between the branches and coats my arms and face.

“Let’s hurry this up, I don’t want to get soaked,” Slate says .

We walk in silence, but Onyx’s mood continues to decline. After he makes an angry scoffing nose low in his throat, I finally speak up.

“Just tell me what’s pissed you off.”

For a moment, he glowers at me. “We all saw how upset she was the other day. You were being an asshole. And she’s always had a thing for Cedar and you forced them to face that, and Cedar wasn’t ready. So now that’s ruined.”

He’s right, but I can’t bring myself to feel remorse. Cedar’s feelings aren’t my priority, Marigold’s are. I don’t care if I ruined anything for him. Onyx is delusional if he thinks anything would have happened between Cedar and Marigold given more time.

Sure, I could have handled things better, but it was worth it. She’s freed from that one-sided relationship. I’ll take any shit I get for what I said, knowing that Marigold is happy.

Voice level, I speak to Onyx in the most reasonable tone I can muster. “I’m sorry about that. I already apologized to Marigold. If they’re meant to be together, I’m sure it’ll still happen. But if your brother says he doesn’t have feelings for her, maybe you should trust that.”

Onyx’s lip curls, some acidic remark brewing. But Slate decides to step in. “So nothing is happening between you two?” he verifies.

Huffing, I throw my hands up. “No. She’s a friend who needed a place to stay. It’s no different than if she stayed with you,” I say with a pointed look at Onyx. If one more person asks if we are now dating, I’m going to shift into my wolf and eat them.

“Maybe she should,” Onyx starts, but Slate has had enough.

“We need to get going. As much fun as this has been, I’m ready to be done for the day.” Slate’s tone leaves no room for arguing.

“Agreed,” I say.

We secure the next camera, and I can see Onyx softening. He won’t apologize, but he nods at me while handing over tools and is meeting my gaze again.

As soon as the last camera is in place, we head back. It’s really raining now. My t-shirt clings to me, and Slate and Onyx’s longer hair slicks to their necks. We stash the tools away before parting.

“So I’m the only one who doesn’t have a beautiful girl to go home to,” Onyx complains, back to his usual mildly irritating self. Slate rolls his eyes and laughs before taking off.

Marigold won’t be off work for a while, but I don’t see any movement through the classroom windows. Hopefully she’s enjoying a quiet afternoon.

Knowing I shouldn’t bother her at work, I go home.

Rain patters on the roof, filling the cabin with soft music. Perfect weather to curl up with a book and leftover cookies. The afternoon is quiet, at least until Marigold comes home.

Her scent reaches me right before her voice hollers, “I blame you!”

“What?” I call back, loving her sass .

“It finally happened.” She leans around the doorway to my room and I set my book aside on the round table beside my armchair. Her hair is dark with water and her shirt and sweats cling to her.

“Elwood and Starling were fighting, and it was kinda bad, and then Elwood had his very first shift - while we were on a freaking nature walk! And he took off, and then it started raining so we couldn’t even track him properly!”

“I’m so sorry,” I say, jumping up and meeting her. “I wish I had known so I could have helped.”

My hands go to her upper arms. She’s chilled.

“It’s fine. His brother was right there, we actually found him pretty quick.” She shrugs with a cute half-smile. “Just not quick enough to keep me from getting totally stressed out and drenched.”

She motions down her body as if I hadn’t already been acutely aware of the way her clothes plaster to her figure. Her giggle is a bit manic and it leads to her entire body convulsing in an uncontrolled shiver.

“Geez, Marigold, you’re freezing.” The giggle redoubles followed by another shiver. “Stay here. You need to warm up.”

Grabbing a blanket off my bed, I wrap her up and hand her one of the snickerdoodle cookies off the kitchen counter. While she nibbles on it, I crank the tub faucet all the way to the left. Once the water heats, I set the stopper of the vintage claw-foot tub.

Marigold follows me into the bathroom and stands by the sink .

“Since you had such a stressful day and you’re cold, I thought a bath would be really good for you.” The Epsom salts dissolve into the hot water easily and the air fills with the scent of lavender.

“A bath?” she echoes, like it isn’t right in front of her.

“Yeah, it’ll warm you up and the salt will help your muscles relax so you aren’t sore tomorrow.” Rubbing her arms, I slide past her in the narrow bathroom and pause at the doorway.

“You’re spoiling me.” Her smile makes it worth it.

“I’m not done. It’s almost dinner, so I’m gonna grab us food. And after your bath, we can eat by the fire and I’ll open a bottle of wine,” I find myself saying.

“That seems excessive.”

She might be right about that, but I can’t help it.

“You don’t need to do any of this,” she protests.

Chuckling, I tug the blanket off of her and give her a little push toward the steaming tub. “I want to. You deserve it.”

“I don’t want to be a burden.” Her vulnerability shows through.

My hands grasp her shoulders so I can look her square in the face. “You’re always taking care of everyone else.” She opens her mouth to argue. “Don’t deny it, I’ve seen it. So now it’s your turn.”

She scowls at me. “That’s not your job.”

“Well, someone needs to do it.”

She reaches up and tugs at my shirt. “Can I convince you to let me get food while you enjoy the bath?” She cocks her head. “You seem like a bath guy. ”

I know she doesn’t mean to flirt, but my breathing slows as my heart rate increases. Deliberately, I step back. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh come on.” Even her whiny voice is adorable. Her lip pouts and I raise my hand to touch her on instinct. Catching myself, I twirl my finger, ordering her to turn around.

“Get in your bath now, or I’m going to put you in it myself.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” She crosses her arms.

“Marigold, don’t make me throw you over my shoulder.” My thoughts fill with the image of her ass in the air, legs dangling, while I grip her thighs to keep her steady. Not helpful, but better than the image of climbing into the bath with her.

“Fine. But I’m washing dishes tonight.” Rolling her eyes, she starts to lift the hem of her shirt.

Blood rushes in my ears as I shut the door and lean my back against it. Of course I knew she’d shower in my bathroom, but the idea of her soaking in that steaming bath is too enticing to dwell on.

This amazing woman bends herself into a pretzel caring for everyone else, encouraging them with her bright smiles and boundless energy. But after living with her, I see the exhaustion underneath. She deserves someone taking care of her. And until I’m forced to stop, that job is mine.

Dinner is a chicken stir-fry with snow peas and carrots over rice. I’ve had similar food in town, but my parent’s pack would never have served anything so flavorful. I set the plates on my chunky wooden coffee table and locate one of the bottles of Sauvignon Blanc that the internet had said was sweet and mild.

Waiting for her, I attempt to read a few more pages, but all thoughts of reading fall out of my brain when she emerges wrapped in only a towel and tip-toes to her room. Freckles cover the expanse of skin across the top of her chest.

Make-up free, hair wet, but now flushed with heat from her bath, she’s the most attractive woman I’ve ever seen. She comes out in the same oversized sleep shirt she arrived in the first night.

“Oh, I love stir-fry night,” she says, grabbing the plate further from my seat and nestling down beside me.

“Yeah, it’s great,” I say, barely remembering to grab my own food.

She leans her cheek against my shoulder briefly. “Jasper, that really did make me feel a hundred times better. Thank you.”

My eyes are on her shirt. There’s something about the faded design that bothers me. It seems masculine, which is fine as long as it’s hers. But what if it’s not.

She dives into her food, stopping only to take a long sip of the wine.

“You like it?” I ask, smiling over my own glass.

It clinks as she sets it down on the table, and her hand drops to my thigh, squeezing. “It’s delicious. I didn’t know you’re a wine connoisseur. ”

Shaking my head, I set my own glass down so I can wrap my arm around her waist. “I’m not, I have the internet on my phone.”

“I’ve heard of that. Something the teenagers have,” she jokes.

It’s easy to laugh with Marigold. “Something like that.”

“You are younger than me,” she says, cooly, though a teasing smile begins to curl her lips.

“Not by much.”

“Young hoodlum,” she says, scrunching up her face into a scowl. She’s adorable.

“At least I know how to use the internet.”

Marigold snorts, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. “You’re ridiculous.”

We lapse into companionable silence, and I finish my meal before she does. Eating quickly was a survival technique growing up, and those habits are slow to unravel. But I’m happy to enjoy Marigold’s warmth soaking into my side as she takes tiny bites and savors the last of her dinner.

When she stands, I stand too, but she pushes me back down. “I get the dishes, remember? You agreed.” She refills my wine glass.

It’s not a bad view. She sways to music in her head while she washes up the two plates and sets them on the counter. They belong to the diner, not the cabin.

Despite the fire, the chill of the rain seeps into the living room too. Once she’s satisfied with the kitchen’s cleanliness, Marigold ducks into her room.

A moment later, she lets out a little shriek .

I scramble around the coffee table and have her half in my arms before she lets out a laugh.

A slow drip falls from the ceiling right into the center of her bed. The leak has spread across her bedspread and surely soaked down into the sheets.

“Ah, shit.”

“Yeah, not ideal,” she agrees.

I strip the linens and place a huge bowl under the leak, but that’s the best I can do for tonight.

“You should take my bed tonight. I’ll sleep on the sofa,” I say, grabbing a towel to clean up the spilled wine on the coffee table. Luckily the glass rolled and hadn’t broken.

She scoffs. “It’s a pretty big bed, I think we can share it.”

The glass slips again, but I manage to catch it before it clatters down, giving away my surprise. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Shrugging, she leans against the kitchen counter. “We’ve cuddled up plenty of times. This time we’ll be unconscious. That’s less scandalous than laying in a bed awake.”

It’s weird reasoning, but I can’t find any reason to disagree. Unfortunately, something is still bothering me.

“Is that your shirt?” I ask.

“Um, yeah? Well, I think it belonged to one of the twins originally, but I’ve had it for years.”

It shouldn’t bug me, but it does. She’s in my house, and I don’t like the idea of her wearing another guy’s shirt .

Biting my lip, I stalk to my dresser and dig through the drawers for the softest faded shirt I can find. Marigold stands in the doorway, watching, bemused. Shoving it into her hand, I say, “Here, wear this one instead.”

“Okay,” she says, her eyes sparkling. Thankfully, she understands the possessiveness that drives shifters. She disappears for a moment, and I sink onto my bed, feeling like an idiot.

That sense of euphoria returns in full as she climbs into my bed and stretches out beside me on her stomach, crossing her arms and setting her chin on them.

My shirt drapes over her back and clings to her hips. It looks so much better on her than it ever did on me. I want to pull her to me, but I settle for admiring her.

The room is warm and the only light comes from the dim lamp on my bedside table. In sunlight, all of her colors are bright and dazzling, but in this low light, I notice the upturn of her nose and the curve of her cupid’s bow, and she’s somehow more lovely.

“You know, Hazel told me one time that your old pack has very few females,” she says, surprising me. That was out of nowhere.

“Yeah, they like to recruit single guys. No distractions from work.”

“That sounds awful. So are the guys absolutely feral over the girls they do have?”

I laugh, resting my head back against my pillow. “More like they compete that much harder for rank, since only the top positions get a mate.”

“Wait, what?” She pops up, frowning at me.

“What?”

That bottom lip purses as she cocks her head at me. “Are you saying the Granite Ridge pack doesn’t allow wolves to choose mates the normal way? It’s assigned with rank?”

Shrugging, I roll onto my side to face her. “Yeah. Only the strongest should breed, or that’s the idea.”

“That’s insane. And sounds miserable.”

“They don’t claim their mates. So if someone loses position or is killed, the other is still available. It’s about duty, not love or even support.” I try to explain the best way I can. Growing up, it was normal. It took becoming a teenager and seeing other packs and humans in town to realize it was odd.

“Definitely insane. Doesn’t that seem terrible to you?”

I chew my lip. “Yeah, it is. But I was going to be the Alpha, so I always knew I would have my pick. Or more likely be paired with a political match.”

Up this close, the interwoven tendrils of sapphire and malachite in her irises mesmerize me as her gaze holds me captive. She’s studying me and I’m not sure I measure up.

“Are you disappointed you lost that opportunity?”

“No way, it’s a relief. Now I can be with whoever I like and there’s no pressure. ”

She hesitates for a beat, wetting her lips. “Did they ever try to pair you up with anyone?”

“Other than Hazel, not really. But they would have if I had stayed. There were lots of discussions about it, but most of them I wasn’t involved in. Just informed later.”

“Did you like Hazel at first?”

Oh, that’s awkward.

I take a moment, thinking through my words. “I did, but she was the first person I had met who was sincere and kind. I barely knew her and I wanted to be around her. And then I discovered her entire pack was like that.”

“Oh.” She tilts her head slightly, her lips rounded.

“Honestly, she saved my life. I didn’t know a pack could be like this.”

“Jasper.” Her voice is soft, empathetic. But I don’t need her comfort, I need to express myself.

“And you are the kindest, brightest person in the pack. You made me feel so welcome and accepted.”

“That’s sweet, but anyone would have done the same.”

“You’re not anyone. You were the one I wanted to be around from the first day I arrived.”

Tension thickens the air until I can’t catch my breath.

She clears her throat, looking away. “What do you think you want in a mate? More of a housewife and mother like Crickett? Or a partner to go into battle with, like Cassia? ”

“I don’t care,” I say, giving into the urge to run my fingers through her hair. When I brushed out her hair a couple of days ago, I learned how silky and soft those reddish gold waves were. Even slightly damp, it’s divine to feel those glossy strands slip across my skin.

“Well what do you want in a partner then?” She’s so serious, my chest tightens. I didn’t expect her to care.

“Um, I guess someone who is loving. I want someone I can talk to and have fun with.” A blush washes over my face, and we’re so close, there’s no way she misses it. “What about you?”

“I don’t know.” She presses her lips between her teeth, the way she does when she’s nervous. “Someone who sees me.”

The trust in her expression draws me in, making me feel wanted. I run my knuckles down her cheek, brushing her hair back. She leans into my touch, her eyes fluttering closed. My breath catches as she tilts her face toward me, and I can’t resist, not when she’s filled up my entire world in the last few days.

Impulsively, I lower my lips to hers, my nose brushing her cheek. She presses back, her mouth smooth and warm. The drag of her lips against mine is the single most earth shattering sensation I’ve ever experienced. My fingers tangle in her hair, trying to find an anchor as my world is destroyed and put back together in a single moment.

She draws back and stares at me, eyes half-lidded. “That was my first kiss,” she says quietly.

What? The gravity of that truth crashes around me. I kissed my best friend and roommate. Fuck .

“I’m so sorry. That was so stupid of me. I wasn’t thinking,” I say in a rush.

She shrugs, her face still pink. “It’s okay. It’s no big deal, really.”

“We can pretend it never happened.” What if she’s angry that I robbed her of that experience with someone she really loves? Dread sinks in my gut.

“Sure, never happened.” Her voice is higher, emotional. Is she going to cry? Fuckity double fuck.

Is she going to move out? Did I just ruin the best thing in my life? “Please stay, I promise I won’t be an idiot again.”

“Jasper, chill,” she says, reaching out and running her fingers through my hair. Her nails scratch down my scalp, cutting through my panic. I’m able to take a slow breath.

“I’ll sleep on the couch. You can have my bed. I’ll give you space.” I start to get up.

“Really?” Her voice is sarcastic. I freeze, half-upright.

“Stay. I like this.” She tugs at my arm, and I’m shocked and thrilled to be pulled down beside her again. She could do absolutely anything to me right now and I’d happily go along.

My heart thumps in my chest so hard I’m sure she can feel it. But she rolls on her side and places my arm over her waist, not releasing me until I’ve scooted forward and pressed my chest to her back.

“Much warmer,” she hums, wiggling her ass back into me. Surely that wasn’t intentional. I have no way to hide the reaction my body has to her, but if she notices, she doesn’t say anything.

I keep my head back, away from her silky hair or the warm skin of her neck, even though I’d love nothing more than to press my nose against her skin and breathe in the scent of rosemary and sage.

“This is really nice,” I say quietly. She murmurs a soft noise of agreement, but nothing else.

Sleep seems impossible with her soft body against mine. But eventually her breathing evens out, and ages later, so does mine. Sleep is peaceful, and when I wake up with her still in my arms, I’m filled with this feeling of tightness I can’t shake.

I kissed my roommate and best friend. And if I’m being honest, she’s been my secret crush for a long time, even if I was too dumb to recognize it. Nothing else can explain my private obsession with her smell, her hair, the way she smiles. Everything about her.

Could she feel the same way? The way she clings to me gives me hope. But most likely, she hasn’t realized anything yet. Maybe I can help with that. What’s a little flirting between roommates?