Page 73 of Star-crossed Betas

“We’ll wait out here if that’s okay.” I pull Cee into my arms; he doesn’t need to see his friend like that again.

Just over half an hour later, Noah appears first and explains Oliver will be here for a while, so we drive back to our cottage. I drop Oliver a text with our address to join us after he’s done.

Noah and I sit in the living room while Cee puts the kettle on. I offered to do it, but he said he needed to keep busy.

“That’s Magnus,” I tell Noah when our tiny black feline makes a home on his lap. “Connor found him abandoned, so now we have a cat.” Noah nods, clearly knowing his cousin well enough to understand that I was getting a stray whether I liked it or not.

A few minutes later, Cee joins us in the living room and hands out cups of tea. He sits down on the carpeted floor at my feet, leaning against the backs of my legs. He tips his head back, and I run my fingers through his shaggy black hair. I can feel Noah’s gaze on us, trying to make sense of our easy affection when, to the outside world, we’re strangers in an arranged marriage. Right now, though, I can’t bring myself to care. Cee needs this, and so do I. Need the reminder he’s here and he’s safe, solid beneath my hand.

Several hours have passed by the time there’s a knock on the front door. Cee gets up to answer it before returning, with Oliver trudging in behind him. It must have started to rain because Oliver’s blonde curls look a shade darker.

“Sorry I took so long. I had to speak to a friend of mine about running some of the forensics off the books.”

“No problem. Can I get you anythin’ to drink?” Cee asks.

“Sure. Coffee, please—milk, no sugar.”

When Cee returns with another round of drinks, Oliver gets right to it.

“I’ve got someone who will come down later tonight to dust for prints and check for any DNA samples before I get a clean-up crew in.”

“What’ll happen to his body?” Cee asks.

“I can arrange for the body to be disposed of.” Cee and I both flinch at the callous statement.

“No. We’ll bury him and have a proper funeral. He deserves a real send-off by people who care about him,” Cee says firmly. I grab his hand and interlace our fingers, nodding my agreement.

Oliver asks us some questions about who might have wanted to harm Archie. It's hard to comprehend anyone wanting to harm him, but we explain that he's the son of Alpha Fraser and how he came to us beaten up and injured back in July. I suppose that'll give him somewhere to start his enquiry.

“Do you two need to stay here tonight? We only have one spare room,” I ask. Thankfully, we replaced the infamous airbed with a double when Archie first came to live here.

“I’ll need to drive Noah back to the shop, I assume, but thanks.”

“It’s fine, stay. I can get myself home,” Noah replies. Oliver has a confused expression on his face.

“Noah can teleport,” Cee explains, and Noah snorts as though he disagrees with the description. It’s news to me.

“You can?” Oliver and I ask incredulously at the same time.

“Mhmm.” Noah doesn’t elaborate.

“Shit, that’s cool,” I blurt out.

“It’s convenient. And on that note…” Noah says, standing up to leave, “Let me know when you’re visiting the Fraser pack, I’ll come with you,” the latter is directed at Oliver, whose eyes narrow in response, but he nods his agreement eventually.

The following morning, I wake up to an empty bed. Opening the curtains, I’m met with a grey, drizzly day; Oliver’s car isn’t out there, so he must have left already. When I enter the kitchen, I find Cee on his hands and knees, scrubbing the skirting boardsquite aggressively. He looks up at me, his big green eyes red-rimmed with sadness and exhaustion.

“Please don’t ask if I’m okay.”

“Did you sleep at all?” I ask instead. Cee doesn’t reply, which gives me my answer. Unsure of what I could possibly do to help ease his pain, I grab a spare sponge from under the sink and join him on the kitchen floor, starting on the section he hasn’t got to yet.

An hour later, the entire kitchen has been thoroughly deep cleaned within an inch of its life.

“We should do the living room next,” Cee suggests, determined to run his exhausted body into the ground.

“No, enough now. Come with me,” I say, taking his hand and tugging him back upstairs. I pull him into the bathroom and turn on the hot tap. As the tub fills, I add some bubble bath and salts to the water.

Wordlessly, I begin to undress him, taking my time. He lifts his arms to help me take his t-shirt off, and I plant a soft kiss over his heart. I tug down his jogging bottoms and boxers and gently kiss his hip bone. By the time I’ve removed his socks, the bath has enough water in it.

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