Page 59 of Lavender and Honey

The scent of Elias still clung to me—lavender and honey—a tangible reminder of the intimacy we had shared. Heat rushed to my cheeks as I dropped my gaze, unable to hold Lucian’s penetrating stare.

His chuckle, deep and rich with amusement, broke through the tension winding inside me. His fingers tilted my chin up with practiced ease, coaxing my eyes back to his. The simple touch sent a jolt through my veins, sparking something I wasn’t ready to name.

“Lydia, look at me,” he murmured, his voice a soothing balm against my swirling thoughts. As I obeyed, lifting my eyes to his, he smiled. “You and Elias smell wonderful. Lavender and honey. It’s very welcoming.”

The familiar scents wrapped around me like an embrace, grounding me. It was as if Elias had woven himself into my very being, leaving behind a signature that spoke of safety and belonging. My heart swelled with a mixture of apprehension, gratitude, and something else—something softer, more fragile. I hadn’t realized how much I yearned for this kind of acceptance until it was freely given.

Elias’ laughter, warm and light, filled the space between us, dissolving the last of my tension. He stepped from the nest, his movements unhurried, and came to stand beside me. His presence was a steady, reassuring force, wrapping around me in an invisible cocoon of comfort.

“Lucian’s right,” Elias said, his hazel eyes twinkling with quiet amusement. “We make quite the pair, don’t we?”

Lucian’s grin widened, the glint in his grey eyes unmistakable. “If you allow it later, I’d like to scent you as well…”

His words settled between us, a gentle invitation. Warmth flooded through me, the suggestion alone enough to send my heart into a frenzied rhythm. I swallowed hard, then nodded, the simple gesture holding all the consent he needed.

“Then it’s settled,” Lucian said, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken promises. His fingers slipped from my chin, and he turned slightly toward Elias, who wore a self-satisfied smirk, clearly enjoying the effect they both had on me.

“Now, let’s get you two breakfast,” Lucian said, breaking the moment with a casual ease that somehow made it feel even more intimate.

Still slightly dazed, I followed them down the hall, the wooden floor cool against my bare feet.

“Where are Finn and Soren?” I asked, my voice quiet, barely louder than the hum of the refrigerator as we stepped into the kitchen.

Lucian leaned against the counter, looking effortlessly at home. “Soren’s still asleep,” he said, his voice a low, soothing rumble. “And Finn… he left for his morning run about thirty minutes ago.”

I nodded, absorbing the information as I took a seat at the island. Elias settled beside me, his presence grounding as ever.

Lucian glanced between us, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. “I take it I’m cooking this morning?”

Elias nodded, a playful glint in his eyes. “You can show off your cooking skills to our lovely Omega.”

At the wordour, my breath caught, my heart stumbling over itself. I said nothing, but I knew the shift in my emotions must have been plain on my face.

Lucian shot a mock glare at Elias, the early morning light highlighting the sharp angles of his face. “Ah yes, because clearly, I live to impress.”

Despite the sarcasm, I caught the underlying affection in his tone. Rolling up his sleeves, he moved with a quiet efficiency, the play of muscle beneath his skin not lost on me. His every movement—strong yet measured—was captivating in its own way.

Soon, the rich scent of butter filled the air as Lucian flipped a pancake with practiced ease. Elias leaned against the counter, sipping from a mug that carried the faintest trace of lavender and honey—our scents, woven together in the quiet intimacy of morning.

“Lydia?” Elias’ voice was soft, warm, pulling me from my thoughts. “You okay?”

I nodded, offering him a small, genuine smile. “Just thinking.”

“About what?” Lucian asked, setting a plate piled with golden pancakes in front of me. Steam curled from the stack, rising in delicate tendrils.

“About… possibilities,” I murmured, my fingers brushing over the edge of the plate, my eyes flickering up to look at him, then back down at my plate.

Elias held my gaze, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “Anything’s possible,” he said, his voice softer now, as if he could sense the shift inside me.

Lucian nodded, his gaze moving between the two of us. “Especially when you’re not alone.”

I took my first bite, the sweetness melting on my tongue. And in that moment, surrounded by warmth, by care, bythem, I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t alone anymore.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

The bristles of the paintbrush fluttered across the canvas, each stroke measured. My shop was enveloped in silence, punctuated only by the delicate, almost imperceptible whisper of the brush against the surface and the distant, lilting laughter carried in on the cool evening breeze from the street outside.

I recalled arriving at work still dressed in yesterday’s clothes. In a flurry of urgency to uphold an air of professionalism, I had quickly changed into a spare outfit tucked away in the trunk of my car—a safeguard against the frequent, inevitable messes that accompanied my artistic endeavors.

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