Chapter 29

Chris

Leaning back in my chair, I ran a hand through my hair and rubbed my weary eyes. A quick glance at the clock told me that it was well past midnight, and I should have gone to bed hours ago.

But I couldn’t. With the Elders breathing down my neck and no Beta just yet, this five-step Omega integration plan of mine was falling entirely on my shoulders. Leisure simply wasn’t a possibility right now.

I sighed, my eyes scanning the dimly lit office. It was a far cry from the modern, brutalist structures that I was used to in the human world. Where human architects took pride in the height of their skyscrapers and the large windows to overlook their sprawling cities, werewolf architects were… different, to say the least.

The Packhouse, a long and narrow building situated at the center of the pack, was constructed mainly out of dark stone and even darker wood. Pine beams ran lengthwise across the ceiling, torches flickered on the walls, and heavy Afghan rugs lined the wooden floors.

It was cozy; I would admit that. It was different from what I had grown accustomed to, but it was still familiar in a nostalgic sense.

Suddenly, the sound of my phone buzzing snapped me out of my reverie, taking me by surprise at this hour. What really took me by surprise, though, was Ava’s name on the screen—accompanied by two words.

“Come over?”

I scratched my chin, my heart racing in a boyish sort of way as I looked down at the text. It was late, and Ava was an early riser, so only one thing came to mind.

She missed me.

As I made my way to her little cottage, I couldn’t seem to wipe the smile off of my face. Ava actually missed me, and she wanted me to come over. This had, somewhat, been my hope when I had told her that I was moving into the Packhouse. To make her miss me.

But when I knocked on the door and it opened a few moments later to an obviously-drunken Ava swaying in the doorway with a glass of red wine in her hand, I knew that it was more than that.

“Hey,” she said, stepping aside. “Come in.”

I stepped into the foyer, where the scent of something sweet immediately assaulted my nostrils. “Baking?” I asked, following her slightly-stumbling form to the kitchen.

Ava let out a strained giggle and a hiccup. “Guilty.” She gestured to a plate of cookies on the counter. “I was craving something sweet.”

I couldn’t help but grin as I took a cookie and took a big bite. Sweet indeed; these cookies were like crack. “Holy sugar,” I said, taking another bite.

Ava’s cheeks, which were already blushing from the wine, turned a deeper shade of red. “I’ll admit it. I made it from a box mix.”

My eyes widened a bit. “You, Ava, cooking something from a box?” I teased. “How very human of you.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s okay to do it sometimes. Just so long as it’s not too frequent, you know?”

“Mhm.”

“Wine?” She held up a bottle of dark red wine, which appeared to be homemade. I gratefully accepted it; the dry taste balanced out the sweetness of the cookie.

As we made our way out into the backyard, where there was a small patio with a fire pit, a stereo, and some fairy lights strung overhead, I sipped the wine and tried not to ogle her long hair as it cascaded down her back. Each curl seemed to have a life of its own, bouncing and moving with each step.

And below her hair, in a perfect peach shape that just barely peeked out from beneath the long, silky dress she wore…

No, I thought to myself. Control yourself, Chris.

We settled into two of the chairs on either side of the fire pit, where a small fire was already flickering. I sipped my wine and watched for a few moments as the orange glow of the flames danced across Ava’s face, the soft music playing on the stereo rising up into the air along with the smoke.

“So,” I finally said, breaking the silence. “Lonely tonight, or…?”

She shrugged and took another sip of her wine, although it was clear that she was only trying to act nonchalant. “I just thought it was a nice night,” she slurred. “And that you might need some company.”

I smirked. “How drunk are you?”

“I’m not drunk.”

“So you’re just slurring your words naturally?”

At my words, Ava’s face flushed an even deeper shade of red. She paused for a moment, opening her mouth as though to protest, and then let out a giggle that made my heart sing. “Alright, alright. I may have already had an entire bottle of wine by myself before you came along.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t blame you,” I said, holding the glass up in the light of the fire. “It’s good wine.”

“I made it myself. I can show you,” she said.

A smile tugged at my lips at the thought, but I shook my head and took another sip, leaning back in my chair to admire the stars. “Let’s stay out here for a while longer. I miss having fresh air like this.”

For a long time, the two of us just drank in companionable silence, silence which was filled only by the sound of the music crackling through the stereo and the crickets chirping. Before I knew it, that warm, fuzzy feeling was starting to take over me—along with the desire to dance.

Without a word, I stood up and extended my hand to Ava as a slow song came on the radio. She blushed and silently took my hand, standing along with me.

Together, we swayed beneath the canopy of the stars, neither of us speaking. Ava was stiff at first, but soon relaxed into my arms, resting her head on my chest. I felt my heart flip inside of me; it was moments like this, smelling the sweet, citrusy scent of her hair and feeling her warmth up against me, that made coming back here all the more worth it.

I couldn’t help it any longer. My hand slipped down her spine, feeling the small of her back beneath the silk fabric of her shift dress. She responded in kind, leaning forward and tilting her head back so that her hair fell over her shoulder.

For a moment, I just looked down at her, drinking in her appearance. With her lips parted ever so slightly and her soft eyes blinking up at me through her lashes, she looked like Luna herself.

Kissing her would be sublime.

That was all I wanted, truly; a kiss. But when I dipped my head down and pressed my lips to hers, and when I felt her lean up on her tiptoes to slip her tongue into my mouth, that changed.

I felt my heart pound in my chest as I tugged her closer, our tongues swirling together. Her fingers, small and slim and cool against my skin, tangled their way into my hair. Before I knew it, I was scooping her up off of the ground and carrying her inside, taking care so as not to knock her into anything in my drunken state.

We barely made it to the bedroom before we were ripping at each other’s clothes, our tongues and lips trailing across each other’s skin. A shiver ran down my spine as she nipped at the bare skin of my shoulder, her long hair spilling out onto the pillow around her like a halo as I laid her down beneath me.

“Ava,” I whispered against her neck.

She responded by digging her nails into my back, gently but enough to cause me to wince with a combination of pain and pleasure. “Shh. Don’t talk.”

She didn’t need to tell me twice. As I slipped my hand up beneath her skirt, feeling the milky smoothness of her lithe legs, I was in rapture. And as I felt her buck her hips up against me, pressing her warmth against the hardness that was already growing in my pants, I was in heaven.

But it was short-lived.

Ava suddenly pulled back, her eyes wide, and clamped her hand over her mouth. I furrowed my brow, wondering if I had hurt her somehow; but before I could even open my mouth to ask what was wrong, she was suddenly shoving me away, scrambling out of bed, and bolting toward the bathroom.

When I found her a moment later, doubled over the toilet and puking her brains out, I let out a soft sigh and made my way over to her. “Here,” I said, kneeling beside her and pulling her hair out of the way.

She swatted at my hand, although I didn’t let go. “No, no, you shouldn’t see me like this,” she said between drunken gags and hiccups. “It’s… disgusting…”

I stifled a laugh. “It happens to the best of us,” I said, rubbing her back in slow circles. “Just let it out. It’s alright.”

Ava vomited again, and when she was finished, she let out a low groan. “This is no way for a woman to act,” she whined.

“Really? I think you look beautiful.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“I’m not.” I chuckled. “You’d look beautiful no matter what; even if you’re puking your brains out.”

Ava let out a sound that almost passed for a laugh, her shoulders slumping. Once she was finished, I carefully helped her back to bed, where I tucked her in with a glass of water and some crackers to settle her stomach.

I sat with her like that for a while, rubbing her arm and giving her water to sip or crackers to nibble. Every so often, she’d moan about how this wasn’t befitting for an Acting Luna, or how an older woman should show more decorum than getting this drunk.

And each time, I said the same thing.

“I’ve always loved you,” I said softly, stroking her hair. “Ever since I was eight; and moments like this just make me care for you even more.”

When I said that, there was a long silence. I bit my lip, my heart pounding, wondering if I had frightened her by spilling my guts like this—until I heard a soft snore.

She had fallen asleep.