Page 41 of Pack Favero

After watching several episodes of Lazarus’s favorite show, I found myself yawning more than I wasn’t, my eyes growing sore with tiredness. When Barnes caught me rubbing my eyes and doing my best to hide my yawns behind my hand, he asked me to stay the night. I didn’t even consider ‘no’ as an option, wanting to be right here, with them. So, while Alek and Laz took care of the dishes, Barnes led me to his room upstairs, the one opposite the room I woke in a few weeks ago that I’m told is Alek’s. I was offered a shirt to sleep in, though I would have been just fine sleeping bare, but, apparently, I’m too tempting to resist while I’m naked, so I was tucked into his shirt while I laughed like an idiot when Barnes blushed and shook his head at my amusement.

While Barnes was getting ready, I took in his room. The off-white walls littered with artwork, the bookcase filled with books and photo frames of the guys during their times in North Five at different stages, and the walk-in closet tucked away in the corner is all very Barnes. Everything is neat and tidy, though there are several frames of artwork leaning against the one wall where he’s yet to pin them.

We climbed into bed shortly after that, Barnes bundlingme up against him before he fell into a sound sleep, leaving me awake and not at all tired now that I’m in bed. There’s nothing worse than when the couch sleepiness doesn’t transfer to bed sleepiness. I’ve been lying here for the most part of two hours, willing myself to finally fall asleep but unable to do so. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m not sleeping in my nest, or because I’m too aware of Barnes suctioned to my back, but sleep evades me like a thief in the night and I sigh softly.

When the minutes pass and I remain wide awake, I decide to go in search of something that might aid in putting me to sleep for the night.

With very little grace, I unravel Barnes’s hold and do my best to climb out of the king-size bed without waking him. Of course, I fail spectacularly, and Barnes’s sleep-laced voice startles me when he asks, “You okay, Freckles?”

I turn and smile at him, his eyes squinting at me through the darkness. I lean in and kiss him gently, pulling back to whisper, “I’m fine. Just going to get a drink. Go back to sleep.”

He nods, his eyes already shutting before he sleepily drawls, “Hurry back.”

Huffing a silent laugh, I wait until he’s fast asleep once more before leaving the room, tiptoeing to keep my steps light. I shut the door after myself and slowly trail down the hall until I reach the stairs, wincing when one creaks as I descend.

“You’ll learn how to sneak around without making a peep soon enough, sweetheart,” I hear suddenly, and I flinch hard enough that I have to grip the stair rail to prevent a dramatic fall.

Slapping a hand over my chest, I lift my head and find Lazarus sitting in his armchair with the lights off save for the lamp just behind his chair. His glasses are perched on the end of his nose once more as he holds a book open on his lap, his free hand holding a cup of tea that steams to indicate it’s freshly made.

“You scared the crap out of me,” I breathe, quickly taking the rest of the stairs and heading to the kitchen.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Didn’t mean to startle you,” he offers sincerely, and I send him a smile of acceptance before peering around for something to cure my insomnia. “What has you awake so late? I thought you’d be fast asleep by now.”

“As did I,” I agree quietly, sighing as I cross my arms over my chest before facing him once more with a smile. “Seems the tiredness didn’t transfer, and I’ve been staring at photos of you all for the past two hours with no signs of sleep claiming me.”

Laz chuckles lowly, and my smile grows as I lean against the kitchen counter, eyeing the book in his lap.

“You couldn’t sleep, either?” I wonder, gesturing to the book.

He lifts it from his lap, wiggles it, and says, “It takes me a little longer than the others to wind down from the day, so I usually read for a little while until my eyes start crossing.”

I nod in understanding, smiling over at him. “Reading anything interesting?”

“It’s a romance. Could be something you like.” he says, eyeing me for a moment before a slow smile forms on his lips. “Why don’t I make you a drink and you can come read it with me? Perhaps that might send you to sleep.”

Lazarus doesn’t wait for me to answer. He simply slips a bookmark between the pages of his book and stands, sliding his glasses from his face and placing them on the side table.

Once he’s in the kitchen, he goes about pulling down a sage-green mug and filling it with chamomile tea, the sweet, floral aroma wafting beneath my nose as soon as Laz is finishing up with my drink. All the while, I lean against the counter, watching him with a small smile, enjoying the quiet moment between us both.

As soon as he’s done, Laz takes the mug and holds hishand out for me to take, twining our fingers together as soon as I’ve slid my palm against his. Without a word, he leads me back to his armchair and sits, leaving me to frown in confusion. Chuckling deeply, Laz gestures to his lap and teases, “Your throne awaits, m’lady.”

Huffing a laugh, I don’t fight him, deciding a cuddle might be nice while we read. So, with careful movements, I drop to his lap, sighing as soon as I’m enveloped in his warmth and pink pepper and pear scent that instantly soothes me.

Carefully, Laz hands me the steaming mug of floral tea and cuddles me close before retrieving his glasses, perching them on the end of his nose before he scoops up the book, crosses his ankle over his opposite knee, and rests the paperback on his knee. His other arm wraps snugly around my back, offering more warmth, and I sigh into my chamomile tea before taking a small sip.

“Comfy, darling?” he asks gently, scooping some of my hair from my face and tucking it behind my ear.

Nodding with a whispered ‘thank you’, I hug my tea to my chest before dropping my head to his shoulder, taking a deep breath of his scent just as a quiet but very distinct purr vibrates through his chest. Instantly, I’m lulled into relaxation, and my lips twitch with a content, little smile that expands over my mouth when Laz starts reading to me from where he left off.

I don’t bother asking questions about who’s who, where they are, and what they’re doing. I don’t ask for clarification when I don’t understand something. Instead, I listen to the smooth timbre of his voice, focus on the way his accent thickens as he loses himself to the words. I find myself focusing on the way his fingers start running through my hair, how his warmth wraps around me just as much as his scent, how my belly warms as I drink and finish the tea in record time.

Before I know it, my eyes are fluttering closed as Ibreathe in deep lungful’s of his scent. I tell myself I’m only resting my eyes, keeping the tired sting away while I soak in the sound of Lazarus reading, and that I’ll stay only until he’s tired and done with his book. I tell myself I’ll head back up the stairs and cuddle with Barnes as soon as I’m back in his room, sure I’ll fall asleep then. I tell myself… I tell myself that… I’ll…

I startle awake when a cloud of linens form a mold around me, and my eyes go to Lazarus as he brushes my hair from my face. “Ssh, you’re alright, sweetheart. You fell asleep, so I brought you back to bed.”

My eyebrows pinch and I look around, noting that I’m very much not in Barnes’s room. The walls are too dark, there’s more book-esque clutter everywhere, and there’s absolutely no sign of the art professor anywhere. Not him or his scent. In fact, the whole room is filled with pink pepper and pear, fruity and green, soft and soothing.

When my eyes go back to Laz, I find him smiling slyly, and he shrugs as he clarifies, “I didn’t say I took you back to that git. I’m stealing you for myself for what’s left of the night. If you’re willing, that is.”

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