Muscle and bone, p.18
Muscle and Bone, page 18
“Yep,” Avery assured me, grinning. “Twenty-eight pounds of pure power.”
I’d never seen a bigger housecat in my life.
“Hi, Maxie,” he greeted his pet happily, and seeing him calm as the beast got close, then dip his chin as the cat lifted his so they could rub foreheads, made my stomach flutter.
It was ridiculous, but even if the cat hated me—as most animals, horses, dogs, birds did not like alphas—I would allow the creature to live under my roof. Avery and his pet clearly adored each other. “Is it some kind of illegal breed?”
He turned to me as the cat flopped into his lap and purred loudly, like the engine of a motorboat. “He’s a Maine Coon,” Avery informed me, petting the cat and scratching behind his ears. “I saved him from a hoarding situation when he was a kitten, like my second or third day as a cop, and he’s been with me ever since. He’s not much for people, so don’t be upset if…he—huh.”
The cat rose from Avery’s lap, walked the inches between us to me, and climbed into my lap. He was heavier than I thought he would be, but when he made himself comfortable and looked up at me, I was compelled to pet him. His fur was like silk, and when he purred, his eyes narrowing, I glanced over at my mate and saw the delight on his face.
Yes, the cat and I were good. The cat could stay, had to stay, because having his pet here would help Avery to think of my home as his. And who was I kidding before? What I would allow, as though the choices of what came into the house and what stayed were mine alone. Avery was as empowered as I was; he was my mate.
“He likes you,” Avery stated happily, leaning sideways to kiss me.
As he slid his hand around the side of my neck, holding me there to prolong the kiss, parting his lips, his tongue slipping inside my mouth to mate with mine, I realized I never, for the rest of my life, wanted to wake up without this man.
Breaking the kiss, Avery leaned back, threw the covers off, and headed toward the door. “Okay,” he announced, “come help me find my crap so we can get this show on the road!”
When Avery got off the bed, Max followed him, making the grumbling noise again, and I already missed his company—what that was about, I had no idea.
“No,” I heard Avery tell the cat before I scrambled off the bed to catch up with him, “we’re setting new boundaries. You watching me shower has always been creepy as hell, and you know it!”
I couldn’t stop smiling as I darted through the suite, naked, after him.
Avery must have said a hundred times how much he loved my shower. I, of course, was thrilled to hear it, and enjoyed watching my mate with his head thrown back, eyes closed, water sluicing over his wide shoulders, broad chest, flat stomach, round ass, and down his long, muscular legs. All the burnished gold skin made me ache to touch.
“Get in,” he demanded, and though under different circumstances I would have bristled at being ordered about—no one but my grandfather got away with it—I heard the teasing in Avery’s tone, saw the warmth in his eyes, and immediately did as I was told. The fact that he kissed my shoulder on his way out sent a roll of heat through my entire body.
I was already ridiculously attached.
He wasn’t in the bedroom waiting for me, so I went to check the rest of the suite, the chairs in the reading nook, and I even went out on the balcony overlooking the garden—though why he’d be out there when it was cold was beyond me. He wasn’t there.
Leaving my suite, I headed for the stairs at the end of the hall. My home wasn’t small. The mansion measured 25,000 square feet, was built on eight city lots, and had luxuries like a media room, a game room, an Olympic-size indoor pool, and a gym and spa. The finery—the chandeliers, curving grand staircase, polished wooden floors with marble inlays, and cavernous vaulted ceilings were merely part of its aesthetic. Scattered about the grounds were ornate fountains, a reflecting pool, and manicured gardens. It was a lovely house, but the cottage I owned in Portree, on the Isle of Skye, in Scotland, was my favorite. It was small, cozy, and quiet. The sea air always soothed me, and I couldn’t wait to show it to Avery…if I ever found him again. Where the hell was my mate?
Turning into the great room, a toy mouse flew by me, followed by Max, who looked even bigger in full running mode.
“Oh my God!” Gigi squealed, and I looked around the room until I found her. She was wearing a gorgeous, slinky black strapless Dior gown, and was currently on her knees, on the floor, clapping her hands in glee as Max proudly carried the toy back to her, the mouse’s tail hanging out the side of his mouth as though he’d actually killed the neon-colored creature.
“You’re going to get white cat hair all over you,” I informed her.
She gave me a dismissive wave, tucking an errant auburn curl behind her right ear. Obviously my warning was inconsequential, as evidenced by the praise, and petting, she lavished on Max, who lifted his head so she could scratch under his chin and then tore off in another direction when she threw the toy again.
Shaking my head, I walked by her to the couch where Avery was sitting, sipping a beer from the bottle, of all things, and listening to my brother, who was perched on the coffee table—something I’d never seen him do before—telling some kind of story that involved him waving his arms around like a crazy person.
“…and Graeme is scandalized because not only are our grandparents having sex, but they’re doing it in his bed!”
Avery swallowed hard and nearly choked, then burst out laughing, barely able to breathe. Stone was wheezing, laughing so hard he was crying from the memory.
“It wasn’t that funny,” I commented dryly, which must have been hysterical because they both stopped, looked at me, and lost it again.
Taking a seat beside my mate, I took the bottle from him, set it on a coaster on the coffee table, careful not to get it anywhere near Stone, and put my hand on Avery’s denim-clad thigh.
“You know, you were meant to get dressed for dinner,” I told him.
He was wearing a white T-shirt under a heavy beige cardigan, soft, faded jeans, and a pair of beaten-up jump boots that should have been thrown out years ago. The man was not at all ready to have a meal with our families.
“I’m so dressed,” he assured me, and then gestured with his hand, wanting me closer.
He needed to understand the rules of propriety, that as the head of the household I would not candidly display my feelings for––
“C’mere,” he husked, and leaned sideways.
I inhaled sharply, tipping my head so he could reach me, his lips brushing under my jaw, and the sound that crawled out of his throat, a soft, decadent, carnal whine, made me close my eyes and press closer.
“Mr. Davenport,” Tomlinson, our family butler, said as he stepped into the room, “may I bring your scotch and water, sir?”
“Yes, please. Thank you, Tomlinson,” I told him, and then he turned to my mate.
“Mr. Rhi—er…Avery, would you like another?”
“I shouldn’t,” he answered with a smile. “I haven’t eaten anything. Can I have a giant glass of water instead?”
“Certainly, sir.”
“Dude,” he replied, shooting my butler a pointed look.
“Certainly,” Tomlinson corrected himself and left the room.
I turned to look at my mate.
“What?”
“It should be Mr. Rhine until you officially become a Davenport as well.”
Avery scoffed. “Yeah, no, not in this lifetime,” he told me, bumping me with his shoulder before he got up to walk to the fireplace, yawning as he stood there.
“He’s already made a few changes,” Stone apprised me, standing up when I did. “No one is allowed to call him Mister Rhine or address him as sir. He told Francisca she should continue to cook whatever she wants, he won’t be taking those decisions from her, though he would like a pizza night, and taco night, and I swear to God I had no idea she could squeal like that.”
“Well, of course,” I replied, glancing over at Avery, who looked a bit gray all of a sudden. “I mated with an omega, so she was certain her place in the hierarchy would change. She assumed that with the coming of an omega, he would run the household and oversee the staff, and now she knows nothing at all will change.”
“Trust me, it’s even more than that. She’s excited to wake up with him in the mornings and have his coffee ready and make him breakfast, and when he mentioned that once a week he has to take in the morning pastries for all the other detectives and asked her what was good around here, she told him she would, of course, make all manner of delicacies for him to share with everyone he works with.”
I grunted.
“Seriously, you would have thought he gave her a million dollars.”
I smiled, thinking about our cook, Francisca Sandoval, and all the things the rest of us didn’t like, didn’t eat and wouldn’t try, and how Avery had just given her free rein to create all manner of cuisine for him. I would have to remember to tell her I would become a foodie with him. Whatever he was doing, I wanted to share in.
“Did he speak to Mrs. Roe as well?”
He nodded. “Yes. Your head housekeeper was thrilled when he asked her if it would be all right to change out all your bedding from silk sheets and the goose down comforter to cotton sheets and quilts. He also wants heavy rugs, lots of them, in your bedroom, because the floor is freezing, and he asked her to ‘please bring some color into the room.’”
I shook my head. “She’s wanted color in my bedroom for years.”
“Not that she came out and shared that with you.”
“No, of course not,” I agreed. “But the look on her face every time she walked in, shaking her head as she glanced at a rug or a chair, made her opinion fairly clear.”
Stone snorted. “You know, you could put a stop to any and all of his changes. The only reason they’re listening to him is because they think he has the authority to make these decisions, like a typical omega would,” he pointed out. “But he should have also discussed anything he wanted altered with you first.”
“Do you think I care?” I asked him. “Whatever it takes for him to be happy and comfortable in our room and in our bed, I want done.”
“Really?”
“Weren’t you the same with Gigi?”
“Gigi’s my alpha, I would do anything to make her happy, it’s hard-wired in me, and of course, I love––” He stopped himself mid-sentence, and after I realized he wasn’t going to say anything more, was instead going to stand there and stare at me like I’d grown another head, I demanded he speak. It took my brother a moment to gather his thoughts. “Are you trying to tell me you love this man?”
I took a breath. “I don’t know, but what I do know is that whatever he wants, if it’s in my power to give, he’ll have it.”
Stone clapped me on the shoulder. “Brother, what do you think love is?”
I scowled at him. “What else did he do while I was in the shower?”
“Avery hates dead things. Did you know?”
“He’s an omega; they’re about life, never death.” But even as I spoke the words, I wondered how that worked with Avery being a police officer. He investigated murders; dealing with death was an inevitability. That he might ever get caught in the crossfire and cause someone’s death if it meant saving the lives of others was an unthinkable paradox. My mate was a puzzle I might never gather all the pieces of.
“Well, that means all the animal rugs throughout the house, the mounted trophies on the walls, and even the zebra-covered chair in the library, he wants all those gone,” Stone continued, not noticing I’d gone quiet.
“Mrs. Roe must be in heaven,” I imparted when I realized Stone was looking at me, waiting for some kind of response.
“She hated them when grandfather sent them here from the estate in Edinburgh,” he reminded me. “Now your mate has given her a free hand to send them all back, immediately, and handpick items to take their place.”
“Avery told her to choose those things without consulting with him first?”
“He asked specifically for antiques and paintings that would remind us of our father, bring him to mind, as it were, and to include whatever our mother had loved.”
I sighed deeply. “That’s terribly intuitive.”
“Agreed,” Stone replied, his voice shaky for a moment. “Already, in less than an hour, he’s made quite the impression on your staff.”
I turned to look at my brother. “What about you and Gigi?”
He gestured to his wife, in couture, sprawled on the floor, stroking the paws of a cat who was purring next to her, allowing her ministrations. “She adores him, she adores his cat. He walked right up and hugged her without permission. Just grabbed her and said he was so happy to have another sister.”
I grunted.
“She cried, Graeme. My wife, the dragon lady, cried.”
“And you?”
“He hugged me too, and well, he’s terribly confident, and he’s an omega, and…I can’t imagine him not being here with us. I have a picture in my head of the four of us in the library, in front of the great hearth, sprawled out on those overstuffed couches, reading and napping an entire Sunday away.” He seemed almost embarrassed by the confession. “It’s strange, but I can see it so clearly.”
It sounded heavenly, warm and familial. I couldn’t speak, surprisingly choked up over my brother’s admission, and wrapped my arm around Stone’s neck, yanked him close, kissed his temple, and then let him go, so very pleased with him.
“Well now,” Stone said hoarsely, clearing his throat. “Spontaneous affection. How very out of character for you.”
It took another second for me to find my voice. “I can’t help it. He’s done something to me.”
“To all of us,” he rasped. “Such is the power of a true omega.”
I turned to look at him. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t remember much about our mother,” he confessed, “but I do recall she was always so afraid, no confidence at all. Perhaps she feared some horror befalling father, and when it did, and the sky fell down around her, that’s why she all but disintegrated. I don’t know; I was so young.”
“Yes, I remember that feeling.” I was finding it difficult, suddenly, to speak around the lump in my throat. “Of being scared. And Dad would always tell me there was nothing to be afraid of, and to go and run.”
He nodded. “I think whatever an omega is, either warm and confident and full of life, like Avery, or hesitant and fearful like our mother was, that sort of fills the house because, good or bad, when there’s an omega in the home, they set the tone. I suspect that’s where a lot of those horrible stories come from where an alpha and their entire family is plunged into ruin.” He wasn’t usually so thoughtful, and we never spoke about our mother. We were both being introspective. “It’s probably not something an omega even does consciously, but is more their innate influence. It’s fascinating, really.”
It was.
Tomlinson delivered my scotch and water then, and brought a container I mistook for a pitcher at first, except it was covered and had a straw protruding from the top, to Avery. I had no idea that such an item even existed in my home.
“Mr. Davenport, your guests have arrived, sir.”
I would have met them where I greeted all my announced visitors, at the entrance to the great room after my staff escorted them in, but I handed my drink to my brother and quickly crossed the room to my mate. When I reached him, I turned him gently to face me, and the wan smile was a concern. Instantly there was a jolt of panic that he was unwell, followed by my understanding of the issue; it was so clear and precise that it took me a moment to realize he hadn’t spoken to me.
“You need to eat.” I made sure my tone left no room for argument from him.
“I will,” he soothed me, stepping close, into me, leaning. “I’m okay.”
“You’re not,” I pronounced, trying for gentle but ending up growling instead. “We’re going to the kitchen now.”
“I don’t want to ruin––”
“You won’t ruin anything,” I assured him, taking the huge water receptacle from him and passing it to Tomlinson before bending to lift him off his feet and start for the kitchen.
“I’m not helpless,” he imparted, bumping his head against mine.
“Yes, I know. You’re actually terribly capable, but at the moment you’ve used all your energy reserves in bed with me, you haven’t hydrated enough, and you’ve had nothing to eat.”
He made a noise, like murmured agreement, before his hand slipped around the side of my neck, his thumb sliding back and forth over the ruined left corner of my lips. “If we’re gonna live together, you have to promise me some things.”
If?
Was he mad?
As though all his clothes weren’t already under my roof, as well as his cat. “Tell me what you need promised,” I directed instead of explaining to him how he was never getting out of my home. Our home.
“I need to make changes to things without asking permission.”
As though he hadn’t already started. “Of course. It’s your home now; you do as you please, as you see fit.”
He nodded. “And you can’t take it back.”
“No, of course not,” I assured him, annoyed that he thought I would. “If you make a change, I would never––”
“Not that,” he whispered, changing position, turning into me, arms wrapped around my neck, squeezing tight.
I stopped walking, struck by what I thought he was saying to me. “Avery,” I husked, rubbing his back, “lift your head and look at me.”
Slowly, he eased back until he met my gaze.
“You are my other half; I insist you begin taking me for granted this instant.”
My words were ridiculous, because I wanted him to worship me, crave me…love me. But what I wanted was not the important part. What was crucial was that he heard what I said, and that he smiled. The curl of his mouth was heart-stoppingly beautiful, and only then did I admit to myself that Avery Rhine, soon to be Avery Davenport, was my love. I would do anything he asked of me and more, just to see his eyes glow like quicksilver when he looked at me. He had me utterly enthralled, and I had no idea when I’d tripped down the rabbit hole.
