Page 124 of Lavender and Honey

"What do you think, Lydia?" Finn asks, his voice pitched low enough that only I can hear. "Your call. Always your call."

The reassurance— that I have a choice, that my comfort is the priority— helps ground me in the moment. I look from Finn to Elias, taking in the heat in both their gazes, the obvious desire neither is trying to hide. There's no jealousy there, no competition— just patient waiting for my decision.

This is so far from anything I ever expected, from any experience I've had before. Traditional packs with their rigid structures and expectations never prepared me for this— for being given genuine choice, for having my consent treated as paramount, for the easy way these two men seem to share space and affection without possessiveness.

Elias holds my gaze, his expression softening slightly as he reads the uncertainty in my face. "No pressure," he says, the gentle understanding in his voice making something inside me uncoil. "Movie's just a movie, if that's what you want. Or you can continue exactly what you were doing. Or anything in between."

The options stretch before me, none of them wrong, all of them potentially right in different ways. I take a deep breath, trying to quiet the frantic beating of my heart long enough to hear what I truly want.

"A movie sounds good," I manage to say, my voice coming out huskier than intended. The heat in my cheeks could power a small city, but beneath the embarrassment is something else— a strange blend of disappointment and relief. My body is still humming with the aftershocks of Finn's touch, my lips tenderfrom his kisses, but there's comfort in the interruption too— a chance to catch my breath, to process whatever is happening between us before it overtakes me completely.

Finn's hands move to my waist, gently helping me down from the workbench. He doesn't step away immediately, his body a wall of warmth that I find myself reluctant to leave. My legs feel slightly unsteady, and I place a hand on his chest to balance myself— a practical gesture that somehow feels intimate in the charged atmosphere.

"Steady there," he murmurs, his voice low enough that only I can hear. When I glance up, his expression holds no regret— only a warm amusement and something deeper, more patient. He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, the casual tenderness of the gesture making my breath catch.

I step back slightly, creating enough space between us to clear my head. My hand rises unconsciously to the pendant around my neck, fingers tracing its carved edges. The wood has warmed to my body temperature, as if it's become part of me already.

Elias pushes off from the wall where he's been leaning, approaching us with that unhurried grace of his. Unlike many who might have made the moment awkward with their presence, he manages to ease into our space as if he's always been part of it. There's no tension in his shoulders, no judgment in his expression— only a warm attentiveness that somehow makes my embarrassment begin to fade.

"That's beautiful," he says, his gaze dropping to the pendant. "Finn's work?"

I nod, my hand still resting on the carved tree.

"I made it especially for her," Finn supplies, his voice carrying a hint of pride that makes my cheeks warm again, but pleasantly this time.

Elias steps closer, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that makes my pulse quicken again. "May I?" he asks, hand hovering near the pendant.

When I nod, he steps into my space— not crowding, but close enough that I can smell him, that distinctive blend of fresh bread and something uniquely Elias. His fingers brush against the wood, but they also graze my skin in a touch so light it might be accidental, except for the way his eyes darken slightly at the contact.

"It suits you," he says softly. Then, without warning, he leans forward and presses his lips to mine. The kiss is brief but far from chaste— a firm pressure, a hint of heat, and then he's pulling back, leaving me blinking up at him in surprise. Unlike Finn's gradual approach, Elias's move is surprising yet somehow not shocking— as if it's the most natural progression in the world from admiring a necklace to sharing a kiss.

"Sorry," he says, though his expression doesn't look sorry at all. "I've been wanting to do that all day. Seeing you with Finn just made it harder to resist."

The casual admission steals my breath. I've gone from avoiding even the slightest physical contact with others to being kissed by two different men in the span of minutes. What's more surprising is how right it feels— how natural, how unforced.

"There's no need to be embarrassed, you know," Elias continues, correctly reading the flush that's spreading across my face and down my neck. "Not here, not with us." His smile turns slightly wicked. "Besides, eventually we'll all walk in on each other. It's the nature of pack life— especially with this particular arrangement."

The implication in his words— that what just happened with Finn isn't an isolated incident, that there's an "arrangement" that includes all of us— sends a fresh wave of heat through methat has nothing to do with embarrassment. The possibilities implicit in his casual statement are dizzying.

My blush deepens to what must be an alarming shade, and Elias laughs softly— not at me, but with a genuine delight that somehow makes it impossible to feel mocked or judged.

"You're adorable when you blush," he says, reaching out to take my hand. His palm is warm against mine, fingers interlacing with casual intimacy. "Come on. I made snickerdoodles, and they're best when they're still warm from the oven."

The mundane offer of cookies after such charged moments should feel jarring, but instead it grounds me— a reminder that whatever is developing between us includes everyday comforts alongside more intense connections.

Elias leads me toward the stairs, his thumb brushing absently over the back of my hand in a way that sends small currents of pleasure up my arm. I glance back to see Finn following, his expression a blend of satisfaction and amusement as he watches us.

"Don't mind me," he says, catching my eye with a grin. "Just enjoying the view." The comment could be taken as purely physical appreciation, but there's something more genuine beneath the teasing— a pleasure in seeing Elias and me together that speaks to dynamics more complex than simple attraction.

As we ascend the stairs, I'm acutely aware of being between them— Elias leading me by the hand, Finn following close behind. It's a physical arrangement that somehow represents the emotional territory we're navigating— connected, responsive to each other, finding our places in relation to one another.

The workshop door closes behind us, but the subtle scent of woodshavings clings to Finn, following us down the hallway. Elias's hand remains clasped with mine, his grip neither possessive nor tentative— just present, connected. The casualphysical contact feels simultaneously novel and familiar, as if my body is remembering something my mind had forgotten.

"What kind of movie are you in the mood for?" Elias asks as we enter the living room. The space feels different now— the same furniture, the same afternoon light slanting through the windows, but altered somehow by what's passed between us. My sketchbook still rests on the couch where I left it, the pencil marking my place as if hours haven't passed since I was working on the season cards.

"I'm not picky," I reply, suddenly realizing I haven't watched anything purely for enjoyment in longer than I can remember. "Something not too heavy, maybe?"

"Comedy it is," Finn declares, dropping onto the couch and patting the space beside him invitingly. "I vote for that indie one about the failed cooking show. The one with the hedgehog."

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