Page 15 of Citius

So, I spent more time at Alijah’s place. Days would pass without sleeping in my bed. Didn’t see Owen for weeks.

I came home one random afternoon to grab my good shoes and nice belt for a ballet fundraiser, only to find a completed pack registration form on the kitchen counter—a form with Alijah included as our third member—and a mortgage pre-approval letter for an eye-watering amount of money. The attached budget breakdown and proposed downpayment were even more of a shock. Owen had saved more money than I’d earned in my adult life, all for our future. For our pack.

Talk about killer emotional whiplash.

Formal pack registration had a ton of requirements, including cohabitation, so Alijah ended his lease and crammed into our apartment. Three grown men sharing eight hundred square feet was not my favoriteexperience, but it was a necessary, temporary evil.

After vetoing a long string of properties, including a ton of overpriced townhouses near the Redwing campus and my preferred mid-century time capsule on the other side of town, Owen made an offer for the last place we’d expected.

“Remember how I thought he’d given us the wrong address the day of our showing?” Alijah eased off the accelerator to admire the soaring brick edifices before us. “Still feel like that.”

Tolliver Yards looked exactly like the listing photos. A pair of renovated mill buildings held court at the river's bend, connected by a multi-story walkway clad in aged copper. Sleek black windows and doors contrasted nicely against the warm brick, all framed by boxwood hedges and concrete planters.

Pristine was the word that came to mind.

A narrow road ran between the two mill buildings, revealing that Tolliver Yards was basically a mini business district, with restored industrial buildings stretching for several blocks in matching brick and black metal. A farmer’s market ran the perimeter of a community green space, selling autumnal baked goods, pumpkins, and chrysanthemums.

Owen hadn’t given us details about the parking situation, so we opted for a spot outside an art gallery a short walk from our new building.

“Can we get coffee?” Alijah asked, already pulling me inside a nearby café. I savored the delighted trills along our bond as he took in the vintage decor and Edison bulb light fixtures.

Baked goods filled the display cases to the brim. A tray of sea salt double-fudge brownies made his citrus scent deepen into orange marmalade territory. Goat cheese and avocado toast had the opposite effect, making it too tart. The only thing he hated more than goat cheese was coconut.

After much discussion with the barista, Alijah settled on a BLT and egg sandwich for himself, a breakfast burrito for me, and six desserts for us to sample later. I carried the bag and followed him back outside, coffee in hand, listening as he gushed about the novelty of living so close to an upscale caffeine source.

The front entrance of our new home was set in a massive brick archway. It opened onto a secure vestibule with luxurious finishes—tons of marble, chrome, and security cameras. Alijah happily greeted the tidy beta woman behind the concierge desk, introducing our pack as new residents.

She welcomed us and slid a move-in tipsheet across the marble desktop. I took the paper and urged my mate to move along. He couldmake friends later.

Our new security fobs opened a sliding door in a frosted glass wall, revealing the residential lobby. It was bigger than the vestibule but not as fancy, with brick columns and a shining concrete floor. The focal point was a giant vertical water feature on the far wall, surrounded by tons of boxy seating and a suspiciously large rubber plant in the corner.

Several residents followed signs pointing to the fitness center and swimming pool while what seemed to be a beta-only pack headed outside toward the river view deck. On the way to the elevator, we passed a long glass and steel display case with historical relics from the mill’s glory days.

While we waited for the elevator, Alijah shot worried glances at the security office, where a massive alpha in uniform sat behind the service window. My mate was still adjusting to the idea of residing in a secure building.

“Can we really just go up?” he asked in a stage whisper.

“That’s how it works when you live somewhere, babe.”

He wrinkled his nose at me and took a sip of his latte.

The elevator required another swipe of my fob to unlock the control panel. I hit the button for the sixth floor and leaned against Alijah, holding up the moving reminders for him to read during the ride.

“I’ll get the temporary access passes for the movers after we eat,” Alijah said. Our movers would arrive in an hour if they didn’t hit game-day traffic around campus.

The industrial-style elevator opened onto a hallway with exposed wooden beams and a huge skylight. Our new pad was one of two penthouse units on the top floor. Alijah made a beeline for the door on the right, eager to use his key for the first time.

Cleaners came earlier in the week, bombing the place with pheromone neutralizers that left a chemical sting in the air, even with the top-of-the-line filtration system. A freestanding brick fireplace divided the central living area. A grand piano sat abandoned to one side, a chaise lounge wide enough to hold three alphas on the other.

We headed to the kitchen and set our things down on the island. It was stainless steel with a front panel made of dark gray granite. The same granite covered the rest of the countertops. Ridiculous.

Alijah surveyed the empty fridge. “Everything looks brand new. Did the previous owner never cook?”

After paying the equivalent of a king’s ransom in downpayment, maybe they couldn’t afford to eat. At least we still had a decent amount of cash in our joint pack bank account. Nowhere near enough to buy appliances of this caliber, but the real estate gods had been kind, and thekitchen was only missing a microwave—a nice, middle-of-the-road, moderately priced microwave.

“Your moms need to see this place.” Alijah pulled out his phone and began filming. “Hello, my lovelies! Let me show you around. We’re in the kitchen right now, and yes, you counted correctly—the stove has six burners. Can’t wait to cook something delicious for you and the girls. And there’s Joaquin. Say hi, Joaquin!”

He moved on before I managed to wave at the camera.

---