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I hope that Ghost’s wrapped in my soft blue blanket.
Thomas’ expression is hard. “Falling for him now risks breaking your heart if things go wrong.”
My eyes narrow. “What are you so frightened of? Is it that he’s not fated like we are? That your dad is planning something worse? That Fletcher’s your enemy?”
I can hardly breathe.
What’s the mystery?
Thomas becomes ashen.
Shit, did I guess right? Which one is it?
“Fletcher broke his bond with my twin. He could have killed her,” Thomas bursts out, clenching his hands. “I should hate Ghost but I won’t be like Dad. I won’t blame one pack member for another’s actions. Or am I a fool, and you’re blaming me for being a Saint?”
He turns his head. His eyes are flat in a way that I hate.
I instantly struggle out from underneath Lincoln’s arm to press my lips to Thomas’.
He sucks in a shocked breath, before the stiffness bleeds from him.
He kisses back, passionately.
His tongue twines with mine, and I moan.
My heart feels like it’s about to beat out of my chest. Thomas’ fingers toy with my hair, before caressing down my collarbone to my tits.
I want more.
Thomas teases over my nipples, flicking one way and then the other.
I arch into his touch, and he deepens the kiss.
Desire pools between my thighs.
I kiss Thomas back with more eagerness than I have before, and he gives a surprised sound that I swallow.
In this moment, everything else is meaningless.
The world and our worries fall away.
My Alpha is kissing me, and I’m kissing him. I crave the scent of my fated. I want him close to me always. I can feel the strength of his love through the bond, and in the same way as when we’re knotted, I can’t tell where he begins and where I end.
We’re joined, and I never want us to be parted.
Except, my lungs, my fucking lungs, need oxygen. I fight it as long as I can.
But then, Thomas is pulling back from the kiss, gasping for breath at the same time as I am.
He rests both of his hands on my shoulders.
I’m relieved to see a yearning in his eyes replace the flatness of before.
I flatten my hand over Thomas’ shirt, where the wolf Soul Mark is. “You’re my fated. You’re also Seven, the man who sent me messages every morning and evening to check that I was okay and dirty talks like a pro. You’re kind and smart. You helped me through my heat and you’re holding everything together, even though I can see how close you are to falling apart. How many years have you had this weight on your shoulders? All your life? I’m sorry that I judged you because of your pack. All I see now is the Alpha who I love.”
“Our peacock,” Lincoln adds, proudly.
Thomas’ expression is serious. “Then I need to be honest about Ghost.”
