Knot Their Toy: the complete duet, page 50
“You’d tell me if I were Dorian,” he goes on, licking over the spot he’d bitten as I push my shorts down my hips.
“I’d tell you if you were August.” I laugh, forcing myself not to think about her words. It’s hard, and I know my laugh is hollow, but I’m doing the best I can with what I’m working with this morning. “You’re just not scary enough to get the truth out of me.”
That’s not completely true, in a general sense. He’s not an alpha like the others, but Foster makes up for it with being an absolute psychopath when he wants to be. It’s cute, in a weird way, and scary to be on the receiving end of it.
But I haven’t been in years. The Video Valhalla incident was so long ago now that it’s only brought up as a joke. By now, the beta of my little pack has all of my trust, and my absolute devotion, just like the others.
Besides, I find the psycho part rather endearing, no matter what Dorian says about leaving Foster and me alone for too long.
When he bites me again, I yelp and glance up at him, watching as he turns the knob of the shower without looking behind him. The spray hits the floor loudly, cold mist finding my arm that’s still wrapped around him. “If you’re not going to tell me, then you don’t get to pout,” he declares, teeth glinting in a grin as he moves to kiss me.
My insides warm, most of the hurt fading for the moment as I close the distance to kiss him first. His mouth is always so needy, so playful, and his kisses are every bit as cheeky as he is. He steps back, glancing over his shoulder to make sure we don’t trip, before letting go of me to step into the shower stall.
I don’t follow instantly. I move to flick off the light switch; the morning sun filtering through the high window is more than enough to see by. With quick, practiced movements, I remove my hearing aids and place them in the dish by the sink, before finally stepping into the shower and closing the curtain behind me.
It had been a bit of an adjustment, at first, for them to remember that when my hearing aids are out, I have to be looking at their mouths to really know what they’re saying. They’ve always been good about it. Better than I ever could’ve hoped, but it was still an adjustment. Something new to fit into their routine and fix into their minds.
“I love you,” I whisper, hoping more than knowing that I used the right volume. It’s hard when I can’t hear myself; so I don’t like talking without my hearing aids around people that I don’t know, in case I make a mistake or speak too loudly.
“I love you, too,” Foster murmurs, tipping my face up to his so I can see the movements of his lips before he brushes them against my forehead. “Now, are you going to tell me what your mom said?” he pulls back before he asks, his words deliberate and enunciated. I can usually read lips even with someone speaking fast, to an extent, but it’s nice of him, of all three of them, to do their best to accommodate me like this. Especially when we’re in the shower and naked.
In response, I shake my head, turning so my back is under the water, my hair flattening as it gets drenched by the hot spray. With only an hour and some change to get ready, I can’t stay here with him like I want to. Neither of us can, since we have to be lined up at the campus center by ten-fifteen exactly, or forfeit getting to walk for graduation.
Though by the way Foster shoves me against the wall, his hands on my hips and his mouth hot on mine again, I’m wondering if he got the memo, or is just ignoring it. “We don’t have time,” I remind him, my lips brushing his as I press myself against him like a cat. “We seriously don’t have time.”
He grins and nips at my lips, then pushes me against the wall once more, hands wandering down my body. His hands press my thighs apart, fingers teasing my slit and causing me to shiver as my breath catches in my throat, pulse racing alongside it.
“Then I’ll be… so… fast,” he tells me, not giving me warning before his fingers plunge into me. He’d assumed, correctly, that I could take it. That I was still a mess from being in August’s bed all night works to his advantage as he spreads his fingers; drinking in my look of shock before slamming his lips to mine yet again.
Foster isn’t an alpha, but he doesn’t need to be in order to help me come apart. He’s good at reading me, both during sex and otherwise, though less likely to push me on my feelings than Dorian is. When I’d mentioned it, Foster had shrugged and reminded me that’s alpha work, and he’s just here for the ride.
His fingers twist, dragging me back to the present, and his other hand grips my hips as he coaxes my mouth open like he was born knowing how to do it. His fingers tighten, getting dangerously close to bruising territory, not that I mind, and he fucks me on his fingers thoroughly, but with a haste that I can’t help but let sink into my body.
I like when we have to rush. It feels almost clandestine, like a secret, though the only secret today is how fast the hot water will run out. I loop an arm around his shoulders, keeping him pressed to me, my other hand sliding against the wet planes of his body. Just touching him is great. Him fucking me is better, but we don’t have time to play today. Not in the ways we want, at least.
Finally my mouth falls open in a pant, head spinning as I drag in long, desperate breaths while Foster brings me closer and closer to my peak.
He kisses me when I can’t hold back any longer, his mouth drinking up the sounds I make and any words that my lips try to form. With one hand on his hip and the fingers of the other buried in the hair at the nape of his neck, it’s easy to drag my beta down to me for a longer, fiercer embrace as I match his intensity with mine.
I drop to my knees, not thinking about the time, and grip Foster’s hip as my tongue flicks out to lick at the tip of his cock. I can’t hear the noises he makes. The shower water echoing against the tile is the only thing my ears can pick up, and only barely; but I don’t need his voice to know what he likes. Not when his hand buries itself in my hair, urging me closer to him, and his muscles tighten under my hands.
He doesn’t last long. Especially not when I take his length in my mouth, his tip brushing my throat, and urge him to fuck my mouth as roughly as he wants. His other hand comes down, back leaning against the tile wall for balance as he uses his grip on my hair to move me just how he wants. Then, finally, he stiffens, fingers tight against my scalp as he comes.
By now, he knows how much of a turn-on this is for me. He knows I love the feel of him shivering against me, and being held tight against him, lips around the base of his cock as I breathe through my nose that skims his skin. He releases me seconds later as the water begins to cool, helping me to my feet and kissing me one more time before I push him away to finish the shower he’d wanted to take.
“We have to go,” he says finally, tapping my arm to catch my attention. He frowns at the statement, though he’s more than right. We do need to get going soon, unless our plan is to sneak in and hope for the best; though I’m pretty sure Dorian will have something to say about that if we do.
I only kiss him once more in agreement and step back, intent on scrubbing my scalp as quickly as I can before we run out of hot water completely.
August meets us near the campus center, looking us over in our dark red Winter Grove graduation robes. “You’re almost late,” he appraises, switching his gaze to look at our faces instead. “Dorian was getting restless.”
“If Dorian was getting restless, why isn’t he here like a helicopter parent?” I ask, eyebrows raised. My tone is teasing, not mocking, but when I glance up at the campus center, I can’t help the feeling of my heart twisting when I remember who isn’t in there.
Had it been so wrong of me to hope for her to come when she said she would? Dorian had even offered to pay for her flight so that my mom could watch me graduate, but at this point, it’s not about the money. Honestly, it probably never was.
When August’s sentence falls off in the middle of whatever he was saying and both boys are quiet, I realize that my hurt must show on my face. Especially when the mild-mannered alpha steps forward, hand brushing my arm, and just waits.
August is so good at that. He doesn’t need to ask like Dorian, or growl like Foster. He can just stand there, look patient, and it’s impossible not to tell him what he wants to hear, eventually. It didn’t take me long to realize he really is the master of waiting someone out.
“She’s not coming,” I mutter, barely loud enough for my own ears. I hate the way my eyes burn with tears I won’t shed, and even worse is the bitter burning feeling in my veins that I’ve been trying to ignore.
“Your mom?” August asks, correctly assuming what she I meant.
“That’s what you didn’t want to tell me,” Foster guesses, his eyes shrewd.
I shrug one shoulder, wishing I was better at hiding things from my pack. With anyone else, I’m okay at it. Better than okay, in a lot of situations. But for years they’ve been able to see right through me, and while it’s great to have a pack who accepts me for everything, there are things I’d rather keep to myself. Whether it’s a good idea or not. “She called me a couple hours ago. My step-brother is sick, or something.” I’m leaning toward or something. My mom is good at finding anything she can blow out of proportion to get her out of obligations she would rather avoid.
I just hadn’t known before now that my graduation falls into that category.
The realization, the acceptance of that, makes my heart twist, and I squeeze my eyes shut as the burn of tears starts to feel unavoidable. I need to get over it. To move past it, and—
A firm hug knocks me off balance, and August’s scent floods my nose as he wraps his arms around me. Seconds later, Foster closes in behind me, his arms twining around my shoulders as they hold me between them.
“I’m sorry,” August purrs against my ear. “I’m so sorry, Mercy.” He kisses my temple, not letting go, and Foster silently holds me, offering a physical comfort that chases away the burn.
I love them. It’s something I’ve known for a long time now, and the thought no longer scares me. I’ve never loved anyone like I love my boys, and I know for a fact I’d rather die than lose them.
“It’s fine,” I murmur, feeling like I need to downplay the situation, to dismiss it as well as I can. “It’s fine. She can do whatever she wants, and it’s not like—”
“It’s not fine.” Anger burns in August’s tone, surprising me. “If our parents can show up, so can your mother. Dorian offered to pay. We offered to do everything to get her here.” Anger causes his scent to turn almost bitter. It’s a rare thing to scent on him, and it’s nowhere near off-putting enough for me to pull my face away from his throat where I’ve buried my nose to breathe him in.
“Definitely not fine,” Foster agrees darkly, running his fingers through my hair and brushing it back from my face. “Even if it was, don’t settle for fine, Mercy. You should be pissed as hell.”
“Maybe,” I agree with a short, brittle laugh. “But being pissed isn’t going to change things, so…” I stand up straight in the limited space between them, extracting my hand from August’ grip to wipe the tears off of my cheeks. “We’re going to be late,” I remind both of them. “And I want this damn degree. I’m not writing an apology to get it later.” Even if my mother isn’t here to see me walk for it.
August kisses me without saying anything, though his mouth is expressive enough for me to feel the intensity of his feelings. I feel his anger, and his love, it loosens something in me as I wrap my arms around him and kiss him back just as hard and just as thoroughly.
“We’ll be your family, Mercy,” he murmurs. Then presses his forehead against mine as Foster’s teeth skim the side of my neck, as if he’s having a hard time holding himself back from kissing me as well. I applaud his self-control, since we really are on a time constraint. “And we’ll be a lot better one than her.”
“It’s a low bar,” I remind him, just as softly.
“Then let’s set a new one. A higher one.” He pulls away, but moves to grip Foster’s shoulder, pulling him in for a kiss before pressing his forehead to the beta’s. “I’m proud of you two. You deserve this, and you’re both amazing as hell. Dorian’s inside, and he’s only there because his family is there.”
I don’t say anything until he’s gone, and Foster and I have lined up with the other graduates to file our way inside. “His family?” I ask, leaning toward Foster. “Oh, they’re here to see you. Sorry, I don’t know why I didn’t think of that.”
“And you,” Foster reminds me, though the statement dumbfounds me, causing me to look at him sharply as the monitor comes over to separate us by last name. “And you,” he repeats pointedly, as if worried I won’t believe it. “You’re just as much a part of this family as I am.”
I don’t say a word, because I don’t know what to say. Not when the monitor drags him over to his line, or when another puts me more firmly in mine. The only thing I know how to do is smile, readjust my hearing aids, and nod when the woman asks if I’d heard the instructions on what to do when we’d gone inside.
When I finally sit on an uncomfortable folding chair that matches the color of my graduation gown, I look up from the covered ice hockey rink and around at the bleachers. My phone is in my pocket, where it will stay on penalty of death from the dean, but that just makes it harder to find anyone I know in the bleachers. Foster is on the other side of the room, in another row of chairs, and though I try, I can’t meet his eyes from where I’m sitting. I’d assumed we’d be near each other, with his last name starting with an O and mine and N, but thanks to the way things were laid out, that hadn’t happened.
My eyes slide to a stop when I find Eden and Cecily on one of the lower-tiers of seating. Cecily, her hair as bright as fresh blood, looks up at me instantly, as if knowing somehow that my eyes had found her. She smiles, though it’s slow and thoughtful, and raises a hand to give me one small wave.
I wave back, knowing that they aren’t here for me as much as they are for Elaine. After I’d come back from summer break and moved into the boys’ dorm as a sophomore, I hadn’t been that surprised to find that Cecily had noticed the younger blonde.
Though Cecily has always liked to hide it, I saw the way she’s looked at Elaine ever since then. I know she’s in love with her, and that they’re here for the shy girl’s graduation. I also, unfortunately, thanks to Elaine, know more about Cecily’s sex habits than I’d ever wanted to be privy to.
My eyes flick from theirs, and I scan the rows with the stupid hope in my chest that my mom had lied, or Dorian had pulled off some impossible miracle to get her here.
But I don’t need to look at every face to know she isn’t here. I’d have seen her if she was. And she wouldn’t have called me from home to tell me she wasn’t coming.
My heart sinks in my chest again, and I bite down on my lower lip just as my phone buzzes in my back pocket. I freeze, knowing I shouldn’t answer it this close to when the dean is going to start her speech. But when it buzzes again and I crane my neck at a painful angle to see Foster’s eyes on me, I know for a fact I’m going to have to.
If he gets me in trouble, I’ll kill him.
Surreptitiously, I grope for my ass, yanking the gown up enough to reach into the pocket of my black skirt while trying to use the person beside me as a shield. I come back with my phone, and look at it just long enough to see two messages that read the same thing.
Right and up. Sixth row. Look.
I put my phone back before I look, and I do so without making a scene. I’m not going to be the weirdo that whirls around like she’s possessed to stare at someone, but I let my gaze wander up the rows of seating to my right.
One.
Two.
Three and four.
Five.
My breath catches in my throat when I find Dorian’s eyes on mine. He’s smiling gently; pride and warmth ebbing from him like he’s not one of the cruelest boys at Winter Grove University and willing to kill someone who touches what’s his. For a moment, he’s not a terrifying, high-ranking alpha that other students always veered away from.
He’s just Dorian. My Dorian, my pack’s alpha, and he’s staring at me like I’m something amazing, instead of just Mercy Noble, resident near-deaf girl and scholarship student.
Well, ex-scholarship student, thanks to Amelia. And former student altogether, once I pick up my diploma.
It takes me a few moments to look away from him long enough to see August at his side, his hand in Dorian’s. His gaze goes from Foster to me, and he leans over to tell Dorian something I obviously don’t hear.
But Dorian’s face isn’t the most shocking part of it.
His parents are here, along with his aunt, who had kept me from being kicked out during my freshman year. When my eyes find hers, she smiles and gives me a small wave. His mother, who shares nothing in appearance with her son except for her dark brown eyes, gives me a bigger wave and a warmer smile. She does the same for Foster, and my heart twists at the way she looks at us, like she’s proud.
It hurts and helps at the same time. I drag in breaths to keep myself from breaking into tears while I sit in my stupidly uncomfortable chair, waiting for the Dean to get her microphone working so she can talk. Once she does, it gives me an excuse to look away. I offer them a small smile, and focus on the dean, even though I have no interest in what she’s saying and no clue, once I lose myself in my own thoughts.
It’s hard to push away the hurt caused by my mom. But it’s harder still not to cast glances up at Dorian and his family. August’s parents aren’t here, but he’d assured me that it’s no reflection on me or Foster. They didn’t come for his graduation either, and Foster’s parents are dead.
Even Dorian’s father, an imposing man who shares most of his son’s features, looks puffed up with pride. Almost as if we’re his children graduating with extra tassels on our caps, and not just his son’s omega and beta. A small smile flickers at my lips before I turn away, trying and failing to tune into the graduation speech.
The only time I do pay attention is when it’s my row’s turn to go up to the small, portable stage that’s locked into the indoor hockey rink for this occasion. I’d found it weird originally that graduation is held here, on ice and all, but it’s a pretty place for it, and one of the few places on campus that can hold the whole graduation class and their guests. I follow the girl in front of me and look around again, heart pounding in my chest as I wait.
“I’d tell you if you were August.” I laugh, forcing myself not to think about her words. It’s hard, and I know my laugh is hollow, but I’m doing the best I can with what I’m working with this morning. “You’re just not scary enough to get the truth out of me.”
That’s not completely true, in a general sense. He’s not an alpha like the others, but Foster makes up for it with being an absolute psychopath when he wants to be. It’s cute, in a weird way, and scary to be on the receiving end of it.
But I haven’t been in years. The Video Valhalla incident was so long ago now that it’s only brought up as a joke. By now, the beta of my little pack has all of my trust, and my absolute devotion, just like the others.
Besides, I find the psycho part rather endearing, no matter what Dorian says about leaving Foster and me alone for too long.
When he bites me again, I yelp and glance up at him, watching as he turns the knob of the shower without looking behind him. The spray hits the floor loudly, cold mist finding my arm that’s still wrapped around him. “If you’re not going to tell me, then you don’t get to pout,” he declares, teeth glinting in a grin as he moves to kiss me.
My insides warm, most of the hurt fading for the moment as I close the distance to kiss him first. His mouth is always so needy, so playful, and his kisses are every bit as cheeky as he is. He steps back, glancing over his shoulder to make sure we don’t trip, before letting go of me to step into the shower stall.
I don’t follow instantly. I move to flick off the light switch; the morning sun filtering through the high window is more than enough to see by. With quick, practiced movements, I remove my hearing aids and place them in the dish by the sink, before finally stepping into the shower and closing the curtain behind me.
It had been a bit of an adjustment, at first, for them to remember that when my hearing aids are out, I have to be looking at their mouths to really know what they’re saying. They’ve always been good about it. Better than I ever could’ve hoped, but it was still an adjustment. Something new to fit into their routine and fix into their minds.
“I love you,” I whisper, hoping more than knowing that I used the right volume. It’s hard when I can’t hear myself; so I don’t like talking without my hearing aids around people that I don’t know, in case I make a mistake or speak too loudly.
“I love you, too,” Foster murmurs, tipping my face up to his so I can see the movements of his lips before he brushes them against my forehead. “Now, are you going to tell me what your mom said?” he pulls back before he asks, his words deliberate and enunciated. I can usually read lips even with someone speaking fast, to an extent, but it’s nice of him, of all three of them, to do their best to accommodate me like this. Especially when we’re in the shower and naked.
In response, I shake my head, turning so my back is under the water, my hair flattening as it gets drenched by the hot spray. With only an hour and some change to get ready, I can’t stay here with him like I want to. Neither of us can, since we have to be lined up at the campus center by ten-fifteen exactly, or forfeit getting to walk for graduation.
Though by the way Foster shoves me against the wall, his hands on my hips and his mouth hot on mine again, I’m wondering if he got the memo, or is just ignoring it. “We don’t have time,” I remind him, my lips brushing his as I press myself against him like a cat. “We seriously don’t have time.”
He grins and nips at my lips, then pushes me against the wall once more, hands wandering down my body. His hands press my thighs apart, fingers teasing my slit and causing me to shiver as my breath catches in my throat, pulse racing alongside it.
“Then I’ll be… so… fast,” he tells me, not giving me warning before his fingers plunge into me. He’d assumed, correctly, that I could take it. That I was still a mess from being in August’s bed all night works to his advantage as he spreads his fingers; drinking in my look of shock before slamming his lips to mine yet again.
Foster isn’t an alpha, but he doesn’t need to be in order to help me come apart. He’s good at reading me, both during sex and otherwise, though less likely to push me on my feelings than Dorian is. When I’d mentioned it, Foster had shrugged and reminded me that’s alpha work, and he’s just here for the ride.
His fingers twist, dragging me back to the present, and his other hand grips my hips as he coaxes my mouth open like he was born knowing how to do it. His fingers tighten, getting dangerously close to bruising territory, not that I mind, and he fucks me on his fingers thoroughly, but with a haste that I can’t help but let sink into my body.
I like when we have to rush. It feels almost clandestine, like a secret, though the only secret today is how fast the hot water will run out. I loop an arm around his shoulders, keeping him pressed to me, my other hand sliding against the wet planes of his body. Just touching him is great. Him fucking me is better, but we don’t have time to play today. Not in the ways we want, at least.
Finally my mouth falls open in a pant, head spinning as I drag in long, desperate breaths while Foster brings me closer and closer to my peak.
He kisses me when I can’t hold back any longer, his mouth drinking up the sounds I make and any words that my lips try to form. With one hand on his hip and the fingers of the other buried in the hair at the nape of his neck, it’s easy to drag my beta down to me for a longer, fiercer embrace as I match his intensity with mine.
I drop to my knees, not thinking about the time, and grip Foster’s hip as my tongue flicks out to lick at the tip of his cock. I can’t hear the noises he makes. The shower water echoing against the tile is the only thing my ears can pick up, and only barely; but I don’t need his voice to know what he likes. Not when his hand buries itself in my hair, urging me closer to him, and his muscles tighten under my hands.
He doesn’t last long. Especially not when I take his length in my mouth, his tip brushing my throat, and urge him to fuck my mouth as roughly as he wants. His other hand comes down, back leaning against the tile wall for balance as he uses his grip on my hair to move me just how he wants. Then, finally, he stiffens, fingers tight against my scalp as he comes.
By now, he knows how much of a turn-on this is for me. He knows I love the feel of him shivering against me, and being held tight against him, lips around the base of his cock as I breathe through my nose that skims his skin. He releases me seconds later as the water begins to cool, helping me to my feet and kissing me one more time before I push him away to finish the shower he’d wanted to take.
“We have to go,” he says finally, tapping my arm to catch my attention. He frowns at the statement, though he’s more than right. We do need to get going soon, unless our plan is to sneak in and hope for the best; though I’m pretty sure Dorian will have something to say about that if we do.
I only kiss him once more in agreement and step back, intent on scrubbing my scalp as quickly as I can before we run out of hot water completely.
August meets us near the campus center, looking us over in our dark red Winter Grove graduation robes. “You’re almost late,” he appraises, switching his gaze to look at our faces instead. “Dorian was getting restless.”
“If Dorian was getting restless, why isn’t he here like a helicopter parent?” I ask, eyebrows raised. My tone is teasing, not mocking, but when I glance up at the campus center, I can’t help the feeling of my heart twisting when I remember who isn’t in there.
Had it been so wrong of me to hope for her to come when she said she would? Dorian had even offered to pay for her flight so that my mom could watch me graduate, but at this point, it’s not about the money. Honestly, it probably never was.
When August’s sentence falls off in the middle of whatever he was saying and both boys are quiet, I realize that my hurt must show on my face. Especially when the mild-mannered alpha steps forward, hand brushing my arm, and just waits.
August is so good at that. He doesn’t need to ask like Dorian, or growl like Foster. He can just stand there, look patient, and it’s impossible not to tell him what he wants to hear, eventually. It didn’t take me long to realize he really is the master of waiting someone out.
“She’s not coming,” I mutter, barely loud enough for my own ears. I hate the way my eyes burn with tears I won’t shed, and even worse is the bitter burning feeling in my veins that I’ve been trying to ignore.
“Your mom?” August asks, correctly assuming what she I meant.
“That’s what you didn’t want to tell me,” Foster guesses, his eyes shrewd.
I shrug one shoulder, wishing I was better at hiding things from my pack. With anyone else, I’m okay at it. Better than okay, in a lot of situations. But for years they’ve been able to see right through me, and while it’s great to have a pack who accepts me for everything, there are things I’d rather keep to myself. Whether it’s a good idea or not. “She called me a couple hours ago. My step-brother is sick, or something.” I’m leaning toward or something. My mom is good at finding anything she can blow out of proportion to get her out of obligations she would rather avoid.
I just hadn’t known before now that my graduation falls into that category.
The realization, the acceptance of that, makes my heart twist, and I squeeze my eyes shut as the burn of tears starts to feel unavoidable. I need to get over it. To move past it, and—
A firm hug knocks me off balance, and August’s scent floods my nose as he wraps his arms around me. Seconds later, Foster closes in behind me, his arms twining around my shoulders as they hold me between them.
“I’m sorry,” August purrs against my ear. “I’m so sorry, Mercy.” He kisses my temple, not letting go, and Foster silently holds me, offering a physical comfort that chases away the burn.
I love them. It’s something I’ve known for a long time now, and the thought no longer scares me. I’ve never loved anyone like I love my boys, and I know for a fact I’d rather die than lose them.
“It’s fine,” I murmur, feeling like I need to downplay the situation, to dismiss it as well as I can. “It’s fine. She can do whatever she wants, and it’s not like—”
“It’s not fine.” Anger burns in August’s tone, surprising me. “If our parents can show up, so can your mother. Dorian offered to pay. We offered to do everything to get her here.” Anger causes his scent to turn almost bitter. It’s a rare thing to scent on him, and it’s nowhere near off-putting enough for me to pull my face away from his throat where I’ve buried my nose to breathe him in.
“Definitely not fine,” Foster agrees darkly, running his fingers through my hair and brushing it back from my face. “Even if it was, don’t settle for fine, Mercy. You should be pissed as hell.”
“Maybe,” I agree with a short, brittle laugh. “But being pissed isn’t going to change things, so…” I stand up straight in the limited space between them, extracting my hand from August’ grip to wipe the tears off of my cheeks. “We’re going to be late,” I remind both of them. “And I want this damn degree. I’m not writing an apology to get it later.” Even if my mother isn’t here to see me walk for it.
August kisses me without saying anything, though his mouth is expressive enough for me to feel the intensity of his feelings. I feel his anger, and his love, it loosens something in me as I wrap my arms around him and kiss him back just as hard and just as thoroughly.
“We’ll be your family, Mercy,” he murmurs. Then presses his forehead against mine as Foster’s teeth skim the side of my neck, as if he’s having a hard time holding himself back from kissing me as well. I applaud his self-control, since we really are on a time constraint. “And we’ll be a lot better one than her.”
“It’s a low bar,” I remind him, just as softly.
“Then let’s set a new one. A higher one.” He pulls away, but moves to grip Foster’s shoulder, pulling him in for a kiss before pressing his forehead to the beta’s. “I’m proud of you two. You deserve this, and you’re both amazing as hell. Dorian’s inside, and he’s only there because his family is there.”
I don’t say anything until he’s gone, and Foster and I have lined up with the other graduates to file our way inside. “His family?” I ask, leaning toward Foster. “Oh, they’re here to see you. Sorry, I don’t know why I didn’t think of that.”
“And you,” Foster reminds me, though the statement dumbfounds me, causing me to look at him sharply as the monitor comes over to separate us by last name. “And you,” he repeats pointedly, as if worried I won’t believe it. “You’re just as much a part of this family as I am.”
I don’t say a word, because I don’t know what to say. Not when the monitor drags him over to his line, or when another puts me more firmly in mine. The only thing I know how to do is smile, readjust my hearing aids, and nod when the woman asks if I’d heard the instructions on what to do when we’d gone inside.
When I finally sit on an uncomfortable folding chair that matches the color of my graduation gown, I look up from the covered ice hockey rink and around at the bleachers. My phone is in my pocket, where it will stay on penalty of death from the dean, but that just makes it harder to find anyone I know in the bleachers. Foster is on the other side of the room, in another row of chairs, and though I try, I can’t meet his eyes from where I’m sitting. I’d assumed we’d be near each other, with his last name starting with an O and mine and N, but thanks to the way things were laid out, that hadn’t happened.
My eyes slide to a stop when I find Eden and Cecily on one of the lower-tiers of seating. Cecily, her hair as bright as fresh blood, looks up at me instantly, as if knowing somehow that my eyes had found her. She smiles, though it’s slow and thoughtful, and raises a hand to give me one small wave.
I wave back, knowing that they aren’t here for me as much as they are for Elaine. After I’d come back from summer break and moved into the boys’ dorm as a sophomore, I hadn’t been that surprised to find that Cecily had noticed the younger blonde.
Though Cecily has always liked to hide it, I saw the way she’s looked at Elaine ever since then. I know she’s in love with her, and that they’re here for the shy girl’s graduation. I also, unfortunately, thanks to Elaine, know more about Cecily’s sex habits than I’d ever wanted to be privy to.
My eyes flick from theirs, and I scan the rows with the stupid hope in my chest that my mom had lied, or Dorian had pulled off some impossible miracle to get her here.
But I don’t need to look at every face to know she isn’t here. I’d have seen her if she was. And she wouldn’t have called me from home to tell me she wasn’t coming.
My heart sinks in my chest again, and I bite down on my lower lip just as my phone buzzes in my back pocket. I freeze, knowing I shouldn’t answer it this close to when the dean is going to start her speech. But when it buzzes again and I crane my neck at a painful angle to see Foster’s eyes on me, I know for a fact I’m going to have to.
If he gets me in trouble, I’ll kill him.
Surreptitiously, I grope for my ass, yanking the gown up enough to reach into the pocket of my black skirt while trying to use the person beside me as a shield. I come back with my phone, and look at it just long enough to see two messages that read the same thing.
Right and up. Sixth row. Look.
I put my phone back before I look, and I do so without making a scene. I’m not going to be the weirdo that whirls around like she’s possessed to stare at someone, but I let my gaze wander up the rows of seating to my right.
One.
Two.
Three and four.
Five.
My breath catches in my throat when I find Dorian’s eyes on mine. He’s smiling gently; pride and warmth ebbing from him like he’s not one of the cruelest boys at Winter Grove University and willing to kill someone who touches what’s his. For a moment, he’s not a terrifying, high-ranking alpha that other students always veered away from.
He’s just Dorian. My Dorian, my pack’s alpha, and he’s staring at me like I’m something amazing, instead of just Mercy Noble, resident near-deaf girl and scholarship student.
Well, ex-scholarship student, thanks to Amelia. And former student altogether, once I pick up my diploma.
It takes me a few moments to look away from him long enough to see August at his side, his hand in Dorian’s. His gaze goes from Foster to me, and he leans over to tell Dorian something I obviously don’t hear.
But Dorian’s face isn’t the most shocking part of it.
His parents are here, along with his aunt, who had kept me from being kicked out during my freshman year. When my eyes find hers, she smiles and gives me a small wave. His mother, who shares nothing in appearance with her son except for her dark brown eyes, gives me a bigger wave and a warmer smile. She does the same for Foster, and my heart twists at the way she looks at us, like she’s proud.
It hurts and helps at the same time. I drag in breaths to keep myself from breaking into tears while I sit in my stupidly uncomfortable chair, waiting for the Dean to get her microphone working so she can talk. Once she does, it gives me an excuse to look away. I offer them a small smile, and focus on the dean, even though I have no interest in what she’s saying and no clue, once I lose myself in my own thoughts.
It’s hard to push away the hurt caused by my mom. But it’s harder still not to cast glances up at Dorian and his family. August’s parents aren’t here, but he’d assured me that it’s no reflection on me or Foster. They didn’t come for his graduation either, and Foster’s parents are dead.
Even Dorian’s father, an imposing man who shares most of his son’s features, looks puffed up with pride. Almost as if we’re his children graduating with extra tassels on our caps, and not just his son’s omega and beta. A small smile flickers at my lips before I turn away, trying and failing to tune into the graduation speech.
The only time I do pay attention is when it’s my row’s turn to go up to the small, portable stage that’s locked into the indoor hockey rink for this occasion. I’d found it weird originally that graduation is held here, on ice and all, but it’s a pretty place for it, and one of the few places on campus that can hold the whole graduation class and their guests. I follow the girl in front of me and look around again, heart pounding in my chest as I wait.
