Page 125 of Lavender and Honey

"Perfect," Elias agrees, releasing my hand to head toward the kitchen. "I'll grab the cookies and make some fresh tea. Get comfortable." I settle onto the couch beside Finn, leaving space for Elias on my other side. Finn's arm drapes casually along the back of the couch, not quite touching me but available if I choose to lean into him. The pendant rests warm against my skin, a tangible reminder of connections forming.

"You okay?" Finn asks quietly, his expression more serious now that Elias is momentarily out of earshot. "With all of this?" His gesture encompasses the space between us, the house, the situation we find ourselves in.

"I think I am," I say finally, surprising myself with the truth of it. "It's all happening faster than I expected, but..."

"But it doesn't feel wrong," Finn supplies when I trail off.

I nod, grateful for his understanding. "Exactly. It feels like..." I search for the right words. "Like finding a place that was waiting for me, even though I didn't know I was looking for it."

His smile softens, those laugh lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes. "That's how it felt for me too, when I found this pack. When I found Elias." He glances toward the kitchen, where we can hear the clink of mugs being arranged on a tray. "Some connections just make sense, even when they don't follow the expected patterns."

The simple wisdom of his statement settles something inside me. Traditional pack structures never made sense to me— the rigid hierarchies, the limited roles for Omegas, the lack of real choice. But this— this organic, evolving connection between three people who see and accept each other— perhaps this can make sense.

Elias returns, balancing a tray loaded with a plate of golden-brown cookies, a steaming teapot, and three mugs that don't match but somehow look right together. He sets it on the coffee table and fits himself into the space I've left for him, his thigh pressing warmly against mine.

"Alright, movie night officially begins," he announces, passing out mugs of tea that smell of spices and citrus. "Fair warning: I'm a commentator. Finn will pretend to be annoyed, but he secretly loves my running commentary."

"I do not," Finn objects automatically, reaching for a cookie with his free hand. "I tolerate it because your baking makes up for your inability to watch a movie in silence." Their familiar bickering continues as Elias finds the remote and queues up the film. I sip my tea, watching them with a growing sense of comfort. The pendant rests against my skin, Finn's arm has settled slightly closer behind me, and Elias's knee bumps gently against mine as he adjusts his position. As the movie begins to play, I find myself relaxing, the tension of the past weeks— of the past years, really— slowly unwinding.

Not hiding. Not running. Just being. And for now, that feels like enough.

Chapter Seventy-Two

Iwake to the soft rise and fall of Elias's breathing, his hair a dark tumble across the pillow. The room is dim, and the warmth of his body beside me is both comforting and heavy. I watch him for a moment, the way his lashes rest against his cheek, and then slowly slip out of our nest. The sheets whisper against my skin as I untangle myself, careful not to disturb him. The floor is cool underfoot, and I shiver slightly, pulling my sweater from the back of a chair before padding quietly into the hallway.

The house is still, the kind of quiet that only comes deep in the night, and I feel the familiar restlessness in my bones. I should be tired, but instead, there's a hum of wakefulness that keeps me from settling. I think about making tea, or maybe hot chocolate, something warm to coax me back to sleep. As I near the kitchen, I notice a light spilling into the hallway and pause, blinking sleepily.

I step inside and see Lucian at the island, a bowl of cereal in front of him. His hair is tousled, and he's wearing a faded t-shirt, looking more like a teenager caught sneaking a midnight snack than the Head Alpha. I let out a small laugh, unable to help myself, and he looks up with a grin.

"Why are you up so late?" he teases, spoon halfway to his mouth.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" I reply, crossing my arms and leaning against the doorframe. The sight of him, so relaxed and unguarded, makes me smile.

He shrugs, a mock-serious expression on his face. "I have important Head Alpha duties, like making sure the cereal supply is secure."

I shake my head, moving to join him at the island. "And here I thought I was the only insomniac."

"You're not getting away that easy," he says, pointing his spoon at me. "Why are you up?"

I shrug, mirroring his earlier gesture. "Couldn't sleep. Thought a cup of tea might help."

He pushes his bowl aside, sliding off his stool. "I'll make it for you," he offers, but I shake my head, already reaching for the kettle.

"I can handle it," I insist, nudging him back toward his cereal. "Finish your important duties."

He huffs, a playful sound, but relents, retaking his seat and watching me with a bemused expression. His presence is as warm as the kitchen light, and I can't help but feel a sense of belonging, the quietude of the house wrapping around us like a soft blanket.

I quickly finish steeping the tea and sit down next to Lucian, cradling the mug in my hands. The warmth seeps into my fingers, and I savor the moment before taking a sip. He watchesme with a playful glint in his eyes, and I know he's not done teasing yet.

We fall into easy conversation, the kind that feels effortless and light. I let him tease me about being a night owl, about my choice of tea over hot chocolate, about my hair, which he claims is even wilder than his own at this hour. I tease back, enjoying the banter, the way it fills the space around us with warmth.

As I sip my tea, I feel a sense of contentment settle in, a feeling of being right where I belong. The pack house, with its creaky floors and mismatched furniture, feels like home in a way I hadn't expected. Lucian's presence is a steady comfort, a reminder of the bonds I'm slowly allowing myself to form.

"Feeling tired yet?" he asks, peering at me over the rim of his bowl.

I shake my head. "Not really. Are you?"

He sets the bowl aside, stretching his arms above his head. "Not even a little," he says, then pauses. "Want to move this party to the living room?"

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