Page 111 of Harley & Her Ferals

Hell, that’s good.

Laurent looks satisfied. “That’s better. And you did do something. Our mission was successful. We should be celebrating.You’re heir now.It doesn’t matter that things went wrong or were dangerous. They’re always going to be. This game is high stakes. The point is that our move worked.”

“I can’t look at everything that coldly,” I grumble around my mouthful. “Harbinger was beaten black and blue.”

“You think that I’mcold…?” Laurent fidgets, avoiding my gaze. “If I am, then it’s how I’ve survived.”

“Sweet Thorn…” I reach out to take his hand.

Laurent pulls back, dropping what remains of the muffin into my lap.

He turns to the muffin basket, rummaging through it in a move that is clearly deflection. “Let’s sneak these in to Fer. What type are his favorite?”

“I don’t know,” I reply. “He’s never been allowed one before.”

I stuff the remainder of my cherry muffin into my mouth.

Laurent sorts through the pastries with a determined expression. “Then we’ll save one of each type for him. He can have a feast later and find out which he prefers. We need to catch him up with what’s happened anyway.”

“It’s not part of his training diet.”

“Judge by my face how much I care.”

Fair.

I lick the crumbs from my lips. “Where’s the thumb drive?

“Safe.”

Laurent plays his cards close to his chest, even when he’s not wearing a shirt.

When I raise my eyebrow at him, his expression softens.

“If I’m the only one who knows where it is right now, then your dad can only torture one of us to find out its location,” he explains with an earnestness that makes my breath catch because he’s serious about the torture. “Plus, I’m the one who your dad thinks of as a soft elite. The prize who is valuable if unmarked. He wouldn’t damage me…much. I don’t trust that he wouldn’t interrogate the rest of you with harsher methods.”

This man truly does think ahead.

What kind of life has Laurent led that he’s needed to?

I want to give him a pack where he feels safe enough to lose the wariness that lurks in his eyes, as well as the act that he puts on around most Alphas.

A pack where he can be himself and believe that he’ll be loved.

A pack where he doesn’t need to be on the alert all the time.

A pack where he can feel safe to be an Omega.

I grasp his hand, dragging him back into the pile of cushions next to me. His long hair splays out. How can he look like he’s on a boudoir model shoot, simply sprawling here in the soft morning light?

I snuggle on his chest, and he relaxes.

I strengthen my pheromones, hoping to make him feel more secure.

Then I hold his hand between us, playing with his fingers.

“You have talented hands,” I praise because every Omega loves praise. “You can type so fast. Plus, I didn’t see you move the thumb drive. It was like magic.”

Laurent begins to purr, as if he can’t help himself.

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