Page 158 of Lavender and Honey

His expression softens, understanding the depth behind my simple words. "Always, Lydia." With one last warm smile, he disappears down the hallway, leaving me alone with my boxes and my thoughts. I stand alone in the center of the room, savoring the quiet and the potential. I've never had a space that was truly mine before—not like this, not with the freedom to make it exactly what I want without worrying about landlords ortemporary leases or the constant need to keep things minimal in case I needed to leave quickly.

I open the first box, pulling out my small collection of books. They look almost inadequate compared to the built-in shelves that line one wall, but as I arrange them carefully, I feel a sense of satisfaction. My books. My shelves. My room in my pack's house.

The marks on my neck pulse pleasantly as I work. I'm halfway through a box of clothes when I hear a light knock. Turning, I find Soren leaning against the doorframe, a mischievous glint in his purple eyes.

"How's the nesting going, lavender girl?" he asks, his gaze traveling around the room, taking in my progress.

"It's not nesting," I protest, though I can't help smiling at his teasing. "It's just... organizing."

"Mmm-hmm," he hums, clearly unconvinced. "Whatever you want to call it. You're making a mess. Are you sure you don’t need help?”

I roll my eyes, but can't suppress the smile tugging at my lips. "I'm pretty sure this is the opposite of making a mess. I'm creating order from chaos."

Soren pushes off from the doorframe, sauntering into the room with his typical fluid grace. "Perspective, lavender girl. One person's order is another's boring monotony." He picks up a small ceramic figurine from an open box—a little fox I've had since childhood—examining it with curious fingers. "Cute."

"It was my grandmother's," I explain, watching as he turns it over in his hands. "One of the few things I have from her."

Something softens in his expression. "It suits you," he says, placing it carefully on the windowsill where a shaft of sunlight catches its glazed surface. "Quick, clever, beautiful."

I feel a blush rise to my cheeks at his words. Even after everything we've shared, Soren still has the ability to catch me off guard with moments of unexpected tenderness.

"Was there something you needed?" I ask, trying to hide my flustered reaction by turning back to my unpacking. "Or did you just come to critique my organizational skills?"

Soren grins, moving closer until he's standing just behind me. I can feel the heat of him, smell his distinctive scent that now seems as familiar to me as my own. "Actually," he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear, "I came to steal you away for a bit."

I turn to face him, raising an eyebrow. "Steal me? I just started unpacking."

The boxes will still be here later. My surprise, however, requires good timing," Soren says, his voice dropping to that playful tone that always makes my stomach flip. "And I promise it will be worth the interruption."

I glance at the boxes surrounding me, then back at Soren's expectant face. His excitement is contagious, a vibrant energy that's impossible to resist.

"Fine," I concede, setting down the stack of books in my hands. "But this surprise better be good."

"Oh, it is," Soren assures me, reaching for my hand. His fingers intertwine with mine, the casual intimacy of it still new enough to send a pleasant shiver up my arm. "Trust me."

The mark he left on my neck tingles as he leads me from the room, a pleasant warmth that spreads across my skin.

I follow Soren through the house, curiosity building with each step. His hand remains firmly clasped in mine, his thumb occasionally stroking my skin in a way that sends little sparks up my arm. The playful energy radiating from him is contagious, and I find myself smiling despite my interrupted unpacking.

"Where are we going?" I ask as he leads me down the stairs and through the living room.

"Patience, lavender girl," he replies, throwing a mischievous grin over his shoulder. "You'll see soon enough."

Soren leads me through the kitchen, where I catch glimpses of our packmates engaged in their own activities. Elias kneads dough with practiced hands, flour dusting his forearms. Lucian sits at the island, papers spread before him as he reviews what looks like contracts or business documents. Finn hunches over a notebook, sketching something with intense concentration.

"We'll be back later," Soren announces as we pass through. The three men look up, various expressions of knowing amusement crossing their faces.

"Have fun," Elias calls, a smile playing at his lips.

"Don't tire her out too much," Lucian adds, his dark eyes meeting mine with a warmth that makes my mark pulse.

Finn simply nods, his steady gaze following us as Soren pulls me toward the back door. "Bring a jacket," he suggests quietly. "It is a bit cold outside from the rain.”

Soren pauses at Finn's words, then reaches for a light jacket hanging by the door. "Always practical, Finn," he says, but there's fondness in his teasing as he helps me into the jacket. His fingers linger at my collar, adjusting it with unexpected care.

"Ready for an adventure?" he asks, purple eyes gleaming with anticipation.

I can't help but smile at his enthusiasm. "Lead the way."

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