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Tristan is a whole other beast. I feel him sometimes, watching from the next room, observing her with gut-wrenching sadness in his eyes.
I’m not sure if Serena realizes how scared she is of him. Whenever he walks into the room, her scent descends into the delicious darkness that makes me queasy. I know Tris has noticed it because he’s steadily started avoiding her.
Not wanting her to suffer. Taking whatever pain it causes him to walk away. Believing he doesn’t deserve to try to woo her.
I can’t decide if that makes him noble or stupid.
While I watch, Serena shifts on her knees, sunlight slanting over her dark head. Recapturing my complete attention instantly.
God, she’s fucking beautiful.
Glossy brows match her thick black lashes. They twitch against the apples of her cheeks, which are underlined by high, delicate cheekbones. Her nose slopes adorably, ending in a little button. And her lips are a dark, dusky rose that goes with her complexion.
I like that we sort of match, both of us with richer coloring than the rest of the pack. Mine is more russet, though, and hers has gold undertones. Our hair is similar, too. Coarse and black—but mine kinks and waves while hers falls in straight swoops.
I wonder what her heritage is. I wonder if she knows. I should order one of those DNA kits. We could all do them, like a little pack project.
My mind spins, conjuring all sorts of things I could do with her. All the stuff she’s probably never had a chance to experience.
We could go to the beach. I could teach her to drive the boat our pack only uses twice a year. There’s a chance she doesn’t even know how to drive a car…
I’ll show her that, too, I decide.
We can travel. She should see everything.
While I think, she looks around, a small smile pulling at her lips. Which makes the extra creaks in my knees and the healing cuts on my hands so fucking worth it.
Planning a surprise for our cunning little omega wasn’t easy. I had to distract her with stuffed crust pizza while the landscaping company delivered everything; and Avery kept her occupied most of the weekend so I could clear out the old, overgrown garden beds to plant fresh stuff for her.
I may have gone a little overboard—rose bushes, tomatoes, tons of herbs. Toward the back, she even has her own little grove—orange, lemon, lime, and mango trees.
I finally finished up last night and took the tarps off everything. This might be the first time she’s seen all of it—and now I’m very glad I cut out of practice early.
While I lean into the back door’s jamb, she rises to balance on her knees and gingerly reaches out to touch the basil plant closest to her. The little curve on her lips splits into a real smile.
So worth it.
I can’t stay away anymore, lumbering down the lanai’s steps to the pool deck. She hears my heavy tread and turns, her hand flying up to grasp something on her chest.
Her necklace, I realize.
Along with manamea, I’ve started calling her hummingbird in my mind. Partly because of small gold charm she wears all the time. But, also, she sort of looks like a flighty little hummingbird when she floats around our house, hovering at the edges of every room like there’s a flower she wants to land on but isn’t sure if it’s safe.
We had lots of hummingbirds back home. My mom used to take me out early in the morning to watch them zip through her garden. They really do hum when they do that, their wings a blur of color and sound.
Our eyes meet across the pool. A deep slice of longing cuts through my chest.
She’s let me hold her every day. Treating her touch starvation—at least, that’s what I said, and she’s never corrected me. Since Avery has mostly taken responsibility for her heat-spikes, I make sure she gets all the non-sexual affection she wants, even if it means my dick and I live in a constant state of desperation.
At least being around her perfume has gotten easier to take. Which just makes it better, somehow. Now that I’m used to it, I can appreciate all its subtle nuances.
And sometimes, when we’re cuddled together on the couch or in her bed, and I’ve breathed her in enough, I find myself forgetting about it.
And then it’s just… her.
Which I love even more.
As soon as our eyes lock, hers sparkle. She gestures at the new plants. “I think we might have gardening fairies. Or gnomes.”
