Page 57 of Citius

“What is it with the two of you?” Joaquin kicked the base of my chair. “Just pick up the goddamn phone. Send a fucking text. It’s not that hard.”

“Not everyone has your social skills.”

“But if you give enough shits, even you can press the call button.” He shifted on the couch until he was lying on his side—reclined but not relaxed—bent arm a poor substitute for a throw pillow.

“Comfortable?”

“You get what you pay for,” he grumbled.

I closed tabs one by one, feeling oddly pressured by her focused amber gaze. Her intelligence was obvious, even in a single photograph.

When I reached the last tab, I hesitated, studying her face, wondering how much she’d suffered—and if the accident had limited her career in any way. It would be a pity if, on top of her lost gymnastics career, her intellectual promise had been curtailed as well.

“Speaking of paying for things,” Joaquin said, “I know, I know. Alijah—and I—blew the budget on the couch. But don’t pretend that your stone-cold ass didn’t sink right in, didn’t just fuckingmeltinto all that glorious, cushy padding.”

“It’s an excellent investment.” A true statement, given how challenging it could be to find pieces that met our combined needs and modest budget. “So is the dining room furniture, the floor lamps, the coffee table, the microwave, and those seventy-two rolls of paper towel barricading the washing machine.”

“I sense an objection. Spit it out.”

“No, you and Alijah have made a sterling effort.”

“Ah, now you’re being sarcastic.”

“I would never.” I removed my glasses and placed them on the desktop with a sharp click. “But—”

“Typical.”

“You must admit, it’s all a bit…incohesive.”

“Well, yeah. What did you expect?” Joaquin offered a self-deprecating grin. “He never had anything growing up. I’m only good when it comes to Neanderthal shit like grilling and wiring a new lighting fixture, and you, my prickly tightwad—”

“Stop.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. There were not enough literal hours in the day for Joaquin’s nonsense.

“Look, I know we just moved. The place is still overrun with boxes, and everything’s mismatched as fuck. Wyatt’s sleeping on a mattress on the floor. But it’s not a total shitshow.” He hacked out a hoarse laugh. “We’re exactly the type of well-intentioned yet domestically challenged blank canvas my sisters swear they’d love to pack up with. And now that we’ve got this fancy-ass omega suite—”

I lifted a finger, halting his drivel. “No.”

“Oh, come on. I’m not saying we should jump straight to courting paperwork, but you can’t ignore that we’ve been presented with a unique opportunity. One that might finally get Wyatt to join the pack.”

“I thought you’d abandoned that notion.”

“That was before Morgan entered the picture.”

My half-sneer turned foreboding. “No, absolutely not. Out of the question.”

“Look, dicking me and Alijah around is one thing, but you’ve always gone the extra mile for Wyatt. Not that anything could make up for your mom’s shit.”

Joaquin sat up and planted his forearms on his knees, careful to keep his hands relaxed and limbs loose as he leaned forward, demanding my attention without presenting a challenge.

“I know you’d never risk your brother’s happiness. And he’s clearly still hung up on her.” A mischievous grin couldn’t mask the seriousness of his intentions. “Alijah’s really into her, and I won’t pretend she doesn’t interest me, too. You must see the appeal.”

“Does Alijah know you want to approach her, from a mating perspective, on behalf of the pack?”

“Of course not.” Joaquin let out an amused huff and ran a hand through his hair. “I know better than to try sneaking shit past your alpha.” The playful glint in his eyes turned steely. “I don’t want to have come this far, to have a legal pack, to have a pack home, only to fuck it up at the end. Morgan’s the whole fucking package. We’re not good enough for her, but she might be the key to making it all work out. That’s why I need you on board with this.”

Logic allowed me to see Joaquin’s perspective. Morgan was anattractive, accomplished woman—my ideal in many ways—but untenable considering the professional complications. No matter how tempting it might be to indulge our instincts, I had to make sensible decisions for the sake of our pack.

Restraining my innate need to bend him to my alpha’s will, I stated my objections in a reasonable manner.

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