Happiness is Earned (Second Chances Book 3), page 23
“You don’t even need a different one,” Micah says, and his tone isn’t super serious. Nope, his is full of light-hearted banter. “You can use that one.”
“You can?” I ask. He nods.
“You’d have to sterilise it, of course, and you probably shouldn’t use it for your mouth again until it’s been sterilised, but, yeah.”
“We should definitely have a mouth thermometer and an ass one,” Voss murmurs to Mal, who laughs.
“Roll over and drop your shorts,” Orson demands, sounding so fucking serious that we all have smiles on our faces.
Well, all of us except the patient. Griffin groans, burying his face into a pillow and letting out a screech.
“I think that’s a no,” I say in amusement, but Orson doesn’t even bother looking at me. “It looks like we’re out of luck.”
“Tell him you want to see his ass,” Mal murmurs, nudging me with a smirk on his face.
I shake my head, not wanting to taunt Fin when he’s this unwell.
“Come on,” Voss pleads, and that nearly gets me to give in, but I shake my head once more. We are not going to pressure the poor griffin, no matter how badly I think he’d look good with something up his ass.
Even if that thing is a thermometer.
“Please?” Micah whispers, and when I give him a look, he’s both amused and worried.
Fucking hell.
“Fin… please,” I say, softly. “I’d really like it if we could get an accurate reading. Plus, well, I’m low-key obsessed with your ass and think it’s pretty.”
Orson snorts, the first positive interaction I’ve had from him today. The only thing that makes this moment better is when Fin silently rolls onto his stomach, buries his head into the pillow, and yanks his shorts and boxers down to his knees.
His ass is pretty.
I like it a lot.
“Let me lube this up,” Orson says, pulling out the tin of vaseline he’s been chasing us around with and lathering some onto the end of the thermometer.
I lose it here, silently tucking my head into Micah’s chest, using him to try and hide my giggles.
“I fucking hate you all,” Griffin says, but his words are muffled. “Why is it always me?”
“Because you’re the only fat cunt willing to steal from our mate?” Voss asks before shrugging. He pats Griffin on the shoulder. “Good job today. We can pretend it wasn’t your stomach that led you to it.”
The thermometer beeps, and Orson nods.
“Still lower,” he says, pulling it out. “Want me to—”
“No,” Griffin snaps, and both Malachi and Micah burst into laughter with me. Fucking hell. “You can just go sit over there and wait until I actually need you.”
Orson pouts, which shouldn’t affect me as much as it does. He stomps over to where Fin pointed and sits down, crossing his legs at the ankles, and genuinely seems content to wait.
“I’m going to go sort something to eat,” Micah says, kissing my temple before moving to stand.
“I’ve got it,” Orson says, immediately jumping to his feet. “I’ll go see what Cevon has.”
“How are you feeling?” I ask, giving Fin a smile. He shrugs, patting his stomach.
“Not bad. It might be wearing off,” he says, leaning back. “Fuck me. Between getting knocked out last night, and then this now, I feel like the weak link.”
“No, that’s me,” I say, but the surprise is that I said it at exactly the same time as Micah. I turn to face him and reach up to cup his cheek. “You’re not the weak link.”
“Neither are you,” Micah says with a frown. “You’re the heart that holds us all together.”
“Cheesy as fuck, but not inaccurate,” Voss adds. “And if the two of you feel so weak, I can help you toughen up. I’m one of the weakest animals here, and, yet, I could confidently take all of you in a fight.”
Mal snorts. “Course you could, baby red. I’d eat you for breakfast and still have room for more.”
“I was great in griffin form,” Fin says. “And then I shifted and just got taken by surprise. I genuinely just lost the… power?”
“Walk me through what happened,” Voss demands.
“Why do you see yourself as the weak link?” I ask, making eye contact with Micah as Fin starts explaining last night. It gives us the cover to chat without them realising, and also gives me an excuse not to listen to how he got beat up.
“I didn’t mean it as self-deprecating as it sounded,” he says, and I spot a blush covering his cheeks. “But it’s true. All I could think last night was how glad I was not to participate because I’m just not at the level any of the others are.”
“When standing with an Alpha lion, a very powerful bear, and a mythical creature, of course, you’re going to feel lacking. But you’re still one of the Alpha's inner circle, and I have no doubt you could take any wolf in Kennedy’s pack.”
He sighs, brushing his fingers across my arm. “I still feel inferior when it comes to protecting you. I don’t have the skillset that they do.”
“I’m not in need of protection, Romeo.”
He snorts, and Fin groans, thinking it was because of what he’s saying. “Yeah, I get it. I shouldn’t have let him throw me into a fucking tree. But I just froze up.”
“And then clearly got knocked out,” Mal says with a laugh. “I think you’ve absolutely got the advantage in your griffin form as long as you let him lead you. But it’s with your human form you need to advance your skills.”
Fin nods. “That’s it. I just want to be able to hold my own—not that I think I’ll ever need it.”
Mal shrugs. “It might give you freedoms whenever we have to leave the pride, again. I’m surprised you don’t already know enough.”
“My parents are not the fighting type,” Fin says. “I’m not weak and know the basics…”
“You might not need protection right this second, but if the moment ever arose, I’d want to be able to defend you and have you know you’re safe with me,” Micah says, pulling me away from the group conversation again. “My strengths might not lie in the physical realm, but I am a tiger, and his strengths do.”
I nod slowly and lean forward to kiss him softly.
“I love you. Exactly how you are. Hell, the day we met, you spent over an hour giving me a multitude of options for my work computer. I see your strengths, Micah, and I know exactly what you can give me,” I say, squeezing his arm before turning around on his lap.
“I love you, pretty girl.”
“So, what do you think, Nora?” Voss asks.
“I think you can all keep up in the bedroom, and that’s what matters the most,” I say, causing Malachi to laugh.
“Speaking of the bedroom,” Fin says. “I want to hear when there’s going to be a replay of last night.”
“A replay for you to watch or for you to participate?” Mal asks. “Because I’m never doing it.”
“Why not?” Micah asks curiously.
“You would?” Mal retorts, sitting forward to see his brother. “You’d fuck our mate with another man inside her?”
Micah shrugs. “I’d like to try. Can’t knock it until I’ve given it a go.”
“That’s the spirit,” Voss says. “I’d help you, better tiger.” He gives Malachi a dirty look as he says that, and the worse tiger just laughs.
We hear Orson’s heavy footsteps come into the room, and he glances around us all with a strange look on his face. I can’t decipher it, but it also disappears faster than I can.
I don’t like where we’re at right now, and I hate this tip-toeing around each other that we’re doing. I want healthy relationships where we can talk about our issues.
This just isn’t that.
But now isn’t the time to push. I’ll give him this meal, let him eat, and then try and catch him alone.
I can’t continue this way.
We can’t continue this way.
“Food is nearly done,” he says. “Cevon doesn’t have many groceries in, so I’ve got pancakes cooking. Can someone try and find the lion brothers? I don’t like that they’re not here.”
We all nod, and he heads back into the kitchen, not once glancing my way.
“I had a go at him last night,” Micah mentions as Malachi tries to get in contact with the missing lions. My eyes widen, but I don’t move. “He wanted advice, but I don’t think I gave him what he was looking for.”
I sigh and rest my head on his shoulder, and he kisses my temple once.
“But I think it’s what he needed to hear. Don’t let him keep this much distance between the two of you. Orson will get so into his own head, and the longer it takes, the harder it’ll be to pull him out of it.”
I nod, squeezing his hand, letting the advice wash over me.
The front door slams open, and I can hear the deep laughter from Atticus, combined with the dry chuckles from Cevon. My eyebrows raise, not having expected that after the way they both left, and when they see us all sitting together, Cevon makes his way over to me.
He holds his arms out, and then without waiting for either Malachi or me to confirm, he lifts me into his arms and takes a deep inhale. I can feel some of the tension leave him as he walks backwards to sit down on the sofa Griffin’s on.
“I’m going to kill her,” Cev warns me before kissing the pulse on my neck.
My eyes dart to Atticus’s, but he shakes his head carefully.
“So, what were the two of you laughing about?” Malachi asks, looking between the man he wanted to be his best friend over the last five years, and the one Atticus could never replace.
Atty smirks, but, surprisingly, it’s Cevon who answers.
“Griffin’s wipe out.”
Fin groans, but then he goes pale, and if it weren’t for the quick reaction from Voss, the coffee table would be covered in the yellow bile. I reach over and gently rub his back, but it doesn’t last too long.
“That’s fucking horrid,” Fin mutters as Micah hands him a glass of water. Fin rinses his mouth out, spitting into the bowl. “It’s the bitter part of the poison now.”
“You’ve emptied your stomach, so it will be,” Voss says. “Don’t try and eat with us, it’ll just make it worse.”
Fin nods, resting his head on my thigh. I start running my fingers through his hair, ignoring the dirty look Cevon sends his way.
“What’s the plan?” Micah asks. “How are we going to figure out who did this?”
Atticus sighs. “I don’t have a plan just yet, but we will.”
“You don’t have a plan?” Fin demands, but it’s weak and not forceful enough to get the Alpha to do anything.
“No,” Atticus replies. “Because it’s not just as simple as asking the Alpha to get me an answer… because there is no Alpha. I need to figure out what I’m doing with the pack, figure out what I’m doing with Kennedy and anyone he’s fucked up… and only then will I be able to take the right course of action into finding who did this.”
“It was obviously her fucking mother,” Cevon snarls, causing me to flinch. Cev stills, but I don’t look at him.
“Don’t be scared of me, little darkling,” he whispers, nuzzling his head into my hair, kissing softly. “I’m not mad at you. I’d never take my shit out on you.”
“Food is done,” Orson says, and the others jump up and head through. Cevon, Fin, and I are the only ones who remain, and Cevon’s clearly done that deliberately. He gently pushes Fin away, and then fixes me with a stern glare.
“Atticus might shake his head and give you pretty promises, but he does not control me,” Cevon says. “I’m making you a promise of my own. When we find the pathetic little fuck that did this? They’re not going to be breathing.”
“Cev—”
“No,” he says sharply. “I can not fucking lose you, Nora. I can’t. It would destroy me, more than I’m already destroyed. Whether you like it or not, I don’t care. You are my mate, mine to love and protect in whatever way I deem fit.”
And, with that, he lifts me off his lap and heads through to the kitchen, a thunder cloud raging over his head.
Fucking brilliant.
“That was low-key hot,” Fin says before moaning. “I’m dying here, baby girl. Go eat, so I don’t need to worry about you.”
“Do you not want the company?”
He shakes his head, murmuring about going to sleep, and then closes his eyes. I press a kiss to his clammy forehead before going to join the rest of my mates in the kitchen.
Food is nice, if a little plain, and I only manage to eat one pancake. My stomach is in knots, and I can’t seem to get rid of the nausea. It’s unsettling, and I hope it passes quickly.
Once the plates are all clear, I hang back to help Orson clear up. I carry a small pile of plates over to the sink, and he snatches them from me.
“Go sit down,” he demands. “You shouldn’t be doing this.”
“I thought we could talk,” I offer, and he sighs.
“Not right now, Nora. I don’t have the mental capacity for it,” he says, and I can feel my own hurt building, but, for once, I bat it away.
Fuck being upset.
I’m going to be angry, instead.
“Fine,” I reply. “If you really don’t give a fuck about mending this bridge, or talking about my hurt feelings, then that’s absolutely fine with me. But you will drop the attitude and the rudeness when we’re in the same room, or, so help me, Orson, you’ll not like to see what happens.”
With that, I turn and flounce out of the room, my hands trembling, my legs weak and unable to support me.
“Good girl,” Cevon says, catching me just before I can fall, hoisting me into his arms. “The bear is going to receive a fist to the face, and—”
“No,” I murmur, shaking my head as Cevon carries me through the house. I know where he’s taking me, and I rejoice in the fact. “You can’t punch him. This is between me and him, and we need to figure it out without abuse and pressure from the rest of the pack.”
Cevon grumbles, and the sound and vibrations are very soothing. He opens the door to the library and sets me down in the armchair before passing me a blanket.
“I still think punching him will snap him out of whatever tunnel vision he’s got himself in.”
“And I want a mate to come and talk to me of his own free will rather than being forced into doing it,” I say gently. “I appreciate you for offering, I do, but Orson and I won’t resolve whatever is going on if he doesn’t have the mental fucking capacity to talk to me.”
Cevon’s smile lights up his whole face. “You’re getting mad.”
“No, Cev, I’ve been mad this whole time,” I say with a shrug. “I’m just going to stop hiding my feelings out of fear of rocking the boat.”
“I like it.”
“You might not when it’s your turn,” I say with a small laugh.
He shrugs, not seeming to care. That makes sense. I get the feeling Cevon might actually like it when I’m mad at him—he has in the past.
But I’m feeling a lot more confident within myself, with being able to show my emotions and process them.
For the longest time, I’ve been struggling under the weight of my depression, letting the pain and fear hold me back. Not just in life, but in my relationships. I’ve been so scared to add more to the plate, to rock the figurative boat.
But not any longer.
I’m the Queen of this pride—apparently.
And it’s time I start taking my fucking position seriously because it’s very clear it’s not going to be handed to me.
NORA’S WOLF
My human is starting to see her worth. She’s starting to forge her path in life, by our mates’ side.
But it doesn’t seem like there’s room in it for me.
She neglects me. She doesn’t care about me.
She sees me as a problem.
But today when our griffin was hurt, all I felt was rage towards Mother Wolf. When I see her, I’ll go for the throat.
She hurt one of mine. She could have hurt my pups, if my human didn’t listen to my warning.
I couldn’t save my pack—but I did save my human.
But killing Mother Wolf might repair the bond between my human and I.
That’s the obstacle we need to overcome to be one.
15
NORA
I hear a small knock on the door frame, and I turn around to see Orson. He’s standing in the doorway, hovering awkwardly, and I hate that we’re this on edge around each other. His long blond hair is tied up in a messy bun, with loose strands framing his face, which isn’t his norm. Normally, it’s slicked back and tied in a knot at the base of his skull—always neat and tidy.
I often wonder how he doesn’t get headaches, but seeing him in a more relaxed hair state just feels wrong when I can feel the tension pouring off of him.
He’s got a thick beard which is usually spiky and neatly trimmed, but, at the moment, it’s looking a little less groomed. It’s blond like his hair, but in certain lights you can see some gingery tints to it.
It’s obvious that he’s struggling, and it makes me feel awful. But he chose to turn away from me last night, and then once again this morning. He was the one to shut the door on resolution.
What the fuck do I have to feel guilty for?
“Can we talk?” he asks with his gravelly voice.
I nod and beckon him inside. I close my book, putting it on the side of the chair, and give him my full attention. It’s obvious that he’s not feeling very confident, his shoulders hunched over, his lips pulled taut, but he also seems exhausted.
Is that because of things last night with the pack and then the fighting? You know, the fighting I still don’t truly understand. Or is it the problems with Fin and the soup?
I dare not hope that he’s feeling this way because of his problems with me.
“I wasn’t in the best frame of mind to listen to you yesterday, and I’d like to try and have the conversation again,” Orson says. But then he falls silent, looking down at his hands with furrowed brows. He doesn’t say anything over the next several minutes, and I’m not sure if he expects me to start off the conversation.
