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Pine reaches me before Orion does, mixed now with the sweet milk smell clinging to the kid's shirt. He comes up beside me, looks at my face once, and holds the toddler out. "Your turn."

I look at the kid. Then at Orion. "Absolutely not." The little menace reaches for my earring anyway, and amusement starts warming the bond while Orion keeps holding him there like this has already been decided. I mutter something ugly and take him before he can rip the hoop clean through my ear.

He's heavier than he looks and immediately starts leaning out of my arms, so Orion crowds in close enough that his chest brushes my shoulder and slides my forearm higher behind the kid's back. "There." Apparently that's all it takes. The toddler settles, grabs the gold hoop again, and gives it a thoughtful tug while I try not to drop him or swear directly into his face.

"It's just a kid," I mutter, mostly because my pulse has gone weird and I need something less embarrassing to blame it on.

Orion's hum rolls through his chest into my shoulder. He stays beside me while the kid wriggles, gets one hand in my beard, tries the earring again, then finally gives up and slumps warm against my chest. By the time he starts demanding the floor, my arms have figured out what they're doing and I notice only because Orion takes him back without having to fix my grip first.

We return to the table with baby scent clinging to both of us. Kael has one finger planted beside the Main Administrative House on the map, his pheromones heavier now, pushing the pups' heads up from the rug. "The matched-set results will reach the Collective by the end of the week. Once they compare this to the earlier lines, they'll know exactly what they have. More examinations. More supervision. More pressure on every bond they're watching."

Slate rubs his thumb over the oldest scar at his neck. "And when watching isn't enough?"

Kael's finger stays on the map. "Then we need to be ready before they decide to start taking things apart again." Orion's arm presses along mine, warm and solid, while all of us stare at the same little square of paper like we can already see what they're going to send through the door next.

Chapter Twenty-seven

Orion

Arlo's been pretending to read for at least ten minutes, which would work better if he'd stop staring at the same damn page. I'm stretched out beside him in my human form, wearing one of his shirts and a pair of cotton pants that keep riding low on my hips, my bare foot shoved under the coffee table because the floor is fucking cold. Every time he shifts, leather and coffee roll off him a little stronger, and my Omega responds by crowding closer until our thighs are pressed together and half my attention is stuck on the warmth of him instead of whatever the hell he's reading.

He turns the page anyway. I make a low sound at him and his thumb stops on the paper, the corner of his mouth twitching while his leg slides another inch into mine and a faint purr works through the couch into my thigh. Annoying man. I stare at the glasses slipping down his nose, the curl hanging too close to one lens, the way he keeps pretending the book has anything left to offer him, and the words come out before I can make them prettier. "I love you."

The pen tucked into the book drops to the rug. Surprise punches through the bond so cleanly my own scent jumps with it, heat crawling up my neck while the bear presses hard under my skin, big and awake and shoving everything inside me too close to the surface. Arlo just looks at me, which somehow makes it worse. "I'm pissed about it," I add. "But I do."

His purr starts low enough that I feel it before I hear it. The book lands on the table and his hand comes up, stopping halfway between us until I lean into it myself, his palm warm against my cheek and his thumb catching in the edge of my beard as leather thickens around us. "I love you too," he says, eyes staying on mine. "Have for a while."

Something ugly and tender twists under my ribs. I fist his shirt and pull him in before I have to sit there feeling it, his breath hitting my mouth a second before his lips do, and the kiss goes hot fast enough that whatever answer I might've had disappears. Arlo's hand slides into my hair while the other closes around my waist, broad and steady as I climb into his lap and settle over one thigh.

My body betrays me almost immediately. Slick gathers hot between my legs, soaking into the cotton before I've even found a comfortable position, and my scent opens with it, sweetening the pine until Arlo drags in a breath against my cheek. Alpha hits the room a second later, thick enough to make the back of my throat ache. His cock goes hard under me. The bond kicks with his hunger and I get wetter for it, another warm pulse making the fabric cling while I grind down once just to feel his breath break into my mouth.

There. I do it again slower, dragging damp cotton over the hard line of him until his fingers flex at my waist, and the pressure feels good enough that patience becomes somebody else's problem. "Bedroom."

Arlo gets to his feet with an arm around my waist when my knees go loose on the way down. I shove at his shoulder because I can still walk, thanks, but I keep hold of his wrist all the way down the hall anyway, leather following thick around us while the sweeter Omega edge in my scent gets worse every time his knuckles brush my hip. By the time we hit the bedroom, my pants are wet enough to be annoying and I can feel them sticking when I move.

The lamp leaves a low yellow strip across the bed. Arlo catches the hem of my shirt and I lift my arms, letting him pull it over my head while cool air hits my chest and his gaze follows, dragging over old scars, the dart mark at my shoulder, the silver bite at my neck. His mouth lands there and my knees nearly go again, slick sliding warmer between my thighs while his beard scratches over the mark and the purr in his chest turns rough.

The answering pull through the bond lands all the way down my stomach. I catch both his wrists and put his hands at my waistband. "Off." He pushes the pants down, wet cotton dragging against my thighs before peeling free, and when the smell of slick hits the warmer air his pupils blow wide enough that I almost laugh. He looks. I let him for maybe two seconds, then grab his shirt and haul it over his head because staring is only interesting for so long.

His body is familiar under my hands now. Dark hair over his chest, old marks along his ribs, that place just above his hip that jumps when I drag my nails over it. I walk him backward until his knees hit the mattress and shove, following him down before the bed stops moving. His Alpha scent flares hot under me. I catch both wrists and press them beside his head. "Stay." The purr under my palm deepens and his hands remain exactly where I put them.

I kiss him until my mouth hurts, bite at his shoulder, drag my tongue over the mark I leave there, and when his hips lift the hard length of him slides through the slick already coating my inner thighs. A hum breaks out of me before I can swallow it. "Again."

This time he rolls his hips slowly, his cock dragging wet between my thighs while I have to stop kissing him long enough to breathe. I let go of one wrist and pull his hand down my side, guiding his palm over my hip until his fingers find the slick there too. They flex once. That's all, but the bond gives me the flare of hunger it costs him not to grab.

I sit back and reach between my legs. My fingers come away shining before I even touch myself, enough slick that the first finger slides in with barely any resistance. Good. My body has already done half the work. Arlo watches my hand move with his mouth parted and his hands still where I left them, which lasts right up until I curl my finger and my thighs tighten around his hips. Then one of those hands closes hard around my leg.

The second finger goes easier. Slick runs over my knuckles and down my palm while I work myself open, pleasure kicking low when I change the angle. Through the bond, Arlo gets the same sharp flash and his cock jerks against me. "More," I tell him, and his grip digs in where I want it while I add a third finger and breathe through the deeper stretch until the burn turns good.

By then my scent is thick enough to taste under the leather. I pull my hand free and slick webs between my fingers, so I wrap that hand around Arlo and stroke once from base to tip, coating him with me. His head drops back into the pillow, a low wrecked sound breaking out of him, and my body clenches empty at the noise. Fuck waiting. I move over him before either of us can pretend patience is still happening.

The head of his cock presses against me slick and hot. I brace one hand on his chest and lower myself, my body tightening around the first inch before giving enough for another, then another, every bit of him heavier as I sink down. Arlo's hands lock around my hips but don't pull. They don't have to. I'm doing this exactly as fast as I want, breathing rougher by the time my thighs finally settle against his sides and his pulse beats inside me. Fuck.

I stay there for a second because there's too much to feel at once: his thickness stretching me, slick working warm around him, the purr vibrating into the heel of my hand where it rests on his chest. The bond is wide enough that his pleasure sits under mine like another heartbeat, and when I slide one of his hands lower on my hip I don't have to explain much. "Move me."

Arlo's fingers dig in and lift. The first slow stroke drags through me hard enough to pull a hum loose, the second gets my hips moving with him, and by the third the room is full of wet sound and our breathing and I'm done pretending slow has to mean careful. I lean down, bite his lower lip, and breathe "More" against his mouth.

He gives it to me. The next thrust lands deeper, my hands skidding over his chest while pleasure punches through the place inside me that makes the bear crowd hot under my skin. I grind down to meet him and Arlo does it again, harder, leather turning darker as my own scent gets sweeter and the bond tangles both together until every breath tastes like some part of him.