Chapter 61: The Aftermath
The purr was back. It vibrated through her cheek where it rested against his bare chest, a steady, comforting rumble that seemed to sync with her own heartbeat. His arms were locked around her, one hand splayed between her shoulder blades, the other tangled in her hair, holding her close as if she might dissolve.
“You’re shaking,” he murmured into her crown, his voice gravel-soft.
“A little.” It was the aftershock, the adrenaline of possession and the raw, new vulnerability of being known. “It’s a good shake.”
He hummed, the sound echoing in his chest. They stood like that in the kitchen until the coffee went cold and the pancakes congealed on the plate, until her legs began to ache from standing on her toes. He seemed to sense it, his hands sliding down to her waist.With a sudden, effortless motion, he lifted her. Aurora gasped, her arms tightening around his neck as he carried her out of the kitchen, through the living room, and into the cool, dim sanctuary of his bedroom. He didn’t put her on the bed right away.Instead, he walked into the adjoining bathroom.
Steam began to fog the mirrors as he set her on her feet on the cold tile. He turned the water on, testing the temperature with his hand before guiding her under the spray. The heat was a shock, then a blessing, washing away the sticky residue of syrup and sweat and the lingering intensity of the morning. He stood behind her, his big body blocking the world, his hands slow and methodical as he washed her hair, his fingertips massaging her scalp until she moaned, boneless against him.He was so gentle. It undid her in a different way.
When they were both clean, he wrapped her in a towel, then himself, and led her back to the bed. The blankets were still tangled from the night before, smelling intensely of them. He pulled them back and she crawled in, watching as he padded to the window. He cracked the blinds, letting a single bar of mid-morning sun slice across the foot of the bed.
He came back to her, not under the covers, but sitting on the edge of the mattress, facing her.The towel rode low on his hips. Water droplets beaded on the ink that coiled around his shoulders and down his powerful arms. He looked at her, really looked, his dark eyes tracing every feature.
“You’re staring,” she whispered, pulling the sheet up to her chin.“I know.” A faint smile touched his lips. “Just memorizing.”
“Memorizing what?”
“This.The way you look right now. All soft and sleepy and…” He trailed off, his gaze dropping to where her damp hair darkened the pillow. “Mine.”
The word didn’t frighten her. It settled in her bones, a fact as simple as breathing.She reached a hand out from under the sheet, her fingers brushing his thigh. “Rhys?”
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
“What happens now?”
He caught her hand, lacing his fingers through hers.“Whatever you want. I’ve got to go to the shop for a few hours this afternoon.Big engine rebuild.You can come, hang out in the office. Or you can stay here.Watch terrible TV.Raid my fridge.Build a better nest.”
She smiled. “I might do all three.”
“Good.” He leaned down, kissing her knuckles. “And tonight… we go out.”
Her eyes widened.“Out?”
“Yeah.On a date. A real one.Not hidden in my apartment.I wanna take you to that Italian place downtown. The one with the little candles on the tables. I wanna pull out your chair and order you wine and watch you try to decide between pasta dishes for twenty minutes.”
The image he painted was so beautifully normal it made her heart ache. “That sounds perfect.”
“It will be.” He stood, but didn’t let go of her hand. “I should get dressed.”
She held on for a second longer, then released him. She watched him move around the room—the confident shift of muscle under skin, the deliberate way he chose a pair of dark jeans and a simple gray t-shirt from his drawer.He dressed with an unthinking efficiency that was mesmerizing.
As he pulled the shirt over his head, she spoke again, her voice small in the quiet room.“Rhys? About… what you said before. About my… first time.”
He stilled, the fabric settling over his torso.He turned, his expression open, patient. “What about it?”
“I’m not… scared anymore.I was.But I’m not.” She swallowed. “With you.”
He walked back to the bed, kneeling on the floor so their faces were level.He searched her eyes. “That’s the biggest compliment anyone’s ever given me, Aurora. You know that?”
She felt a blush warm her cheeks.“I just… I want you to know. Whenever you… whenever it’s right.”
He leaned in, kissing her forehead, a gesture so tender it brought sudden, hot tears to her eyes.“It’ll be right,” he whispered against her skin. “And we’ll know.”
He stood, ruffling her damp hair. “Now, I’m going to make you some real food before I go. You’re too skinny.”
She laughed, the sound watery.“I am not!”
“You are. I can feel every rib.” He said it with a playful growl, heading for the door.“Scrambled eggs. And toast. Don’t argue.”
She heard him clattering in the kitchen again, the sound grounding and domestic.She settled back into the pillows, wrapping herself in the scent of him on the sheets. A deep, profound contentment settled over her, warmer than the sunbeam on the bed.
Then, a strange flutter started low in her abdomen.Not a cramp.Something else. A sudden, internal warmth that spread outward, making her skin feel hypersensitive against the cotton sheets. It was accompanied by a fleeting, phantom scent—like his cedar-leather smell, but sharper, more compelling, as if her body was trying to create it itself.She brushed a hand over her stomach, frowning. It was probably nothing.Just nerves.Just happiness.
In the kitchen, Rhys paused, spatula in hand.A new thread of scent had just woven into the air. Vanilla and lavender, yes, but underneath, something hotter. Something sweet and urgent, like sugar burning at the edges of a pan.It was gone as quickly as it had come, a mere hint. He shook his head, blaming his own hyper-awareness of her.He plated the eggs.
But a primal part of his brain, the ancient alpha core, had already noted it. It had recognized the first, faint whisper of a spark before the flame.Her heat.It was coming.Soon.
He looked down the hall toward his bedroom, toward the small, trusting omega in his nest. His grip tightened on the plate.A fierce, protective rush flooded him, so intense it momentarily stole his breath.
He would be ready.