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She nods, and he gives her a self-deprecating smirk. “Then I would hate to kill it, sweet one. You keep it and let it live.”
I expect Serena to accept the pot back. Another tiny rejection to add to her pile.
I really need to talk to Tris about this. It must hurt her feelings so?—
But she gets the fiery look in her eye that she usually reserves for Avery. The one I see when I peek into our home gym and catch her beating the shit out of his punching bag.
“You keep it,” she insists. “And figure out how to take care of it.”
With a final kiss to my cheek, she turns and flounces right out of the room. My pack alpha and I look at each other, then down at the plant.
“Well, damn,” I chuckle. “I don’t think she could have been much clearer.”
chapter
fifty-two
Split lips are one thing, but have you ever had a split eyelid?
Shit hurts like a bitch.
By the time I park the Mustang in our garage, I’ve taken off my tank top and have it balled at the bleeding corner of my left eye. I sit there for a second, wondering how I’m going to hide my face from our omega if I sleep in her bed.
Our bed.
I’m pissed it’s so late. I wanted to get home in time to have her ride my fucked-up face. I can’t think of anything better for the bruises that will be all over it tomorrow.
Now it’s midnight, and when I wake up tomorrow, I have to get serious about saving up my Alpha’s energy for the fight this weekend.
Serena’s being a cute little tease about my self-imposed celibacy, promising she’ll make it as hard as possible for me to stick to my guns.
When I strung together a lame-ass apology for needing us to take a break so close to her heat, she just shrugged and slanted me one of those gorgeous, cock-teasing smirks. “I have three other cocks to play with, Menace. Not even sure I’ll miss yours. It’s not like it’s special or anything…”
Considering just the memory of that taunt makes me hard enough to drive nails, I’m pretty sure I’m going to be a rabid beast by Friday night.
Ha.
It’s funny because I already am one.
Stepping off the elevator, I walk into a wall of my kitten’s lush brightness and Jonah’s toasted smell. Their scents are tangled up and all over the counter, which means I missed a helluva time at dinner.
Growling under my breath, I start to trudge to the stairs, but the light in Spencer’s study stops me.
I’ve never asked him to stitch me up before, but fixing my own eye is going to be a clusterfuck. And now I have someone who has to look at me for the rest of eternity, so.
“Hey, teach.”
I push the door open and find Spencer lying on his lounge chair, holding a sheaf of papers over his face while our omega snuggles into his chest.
She’s fast asleep, but I clock the way his shirt hangs open and her hands rest against his sternum.
When he follows my eyes. I expect him to snarl at me or pull his usual icicle act, but instead he sighs. “It’s easier when I’m awake and she’s asleep. Less chance I’ll be surprised.”
That makes sense. He’s got to get used to her touching him before her heat.
“I know she’s worried about it,” I admit, scratching the back of my head with the hand not holding my bloody shirt to my eye.
Spencer looks down at her face, watching the way her eyelashes twitch. The quiet purr rattling under her cheek ramps up.
