Page 83 of Verses and Blooms
Ansel relaxed quickly. By the end, he had finished his portrait. He scrawled Charles’s name across the top and tried to slide it over, but Charles tapped the bottom corner.
“Absolutely not. You have to sign your work, first,” he said with a toothy grin.
Ansel’s cheeks warmed, but he did as he was asked, signing his name at the bottom before Charles said a quick goodbye.
I half-expected Ansel to slump down in his seat, but he simply grabbed his breakfast tray and finished the last few bites he had left.
“That was some damn good progress,” Rydell told him. My quiet alpha nodded his head with respect, and Ansel even managed to smile back.
“Does it count against me that you guys were all here?”
“No,” I said quickly. “You didn’t even reach for me this time. Look at what you managed and you even talked back and forth.”
His eyes widened in surprise. He looked down at his hands, one still held the pencil, the other resting at the edge of the sketchpad.
“Good job, baby,” I said, leaning over and kissing him, hoping to chase away any lingering nerves.
“Thanks,” Ansel said, his fingers ghosting over his lips where I’d just kissed him. I’d stunned him again but he looked so adorably pleased.
Ares approached our table. Instead of looking at me, his eyes were on Kane.
“You have a visitor,” Ares said. “Do you want anyone to go with you?”
“Who is it?” Kane asked quickly, looking startled. His hands gripped the edge of the table, bracing for the answer. I reached over to offer comfort but Ares’s answer chased away the worry.
“Paul,” Ares said, giving him a soft smile. “He insisted he come see you in person, not just call.”
“Typical Paul,” Kane said, a smile forming on his face. “Would you guys mind coming with me? I think I’d like my pack with me for this.”
“Of course,” I promised, standing up and grabbing mine and Ansel’s trays, tossing them while the others did the same.
We followed Ares to the front conference room. There was a single man sitting at the table, fidgeting with something in his hands.
He stood up suddenly as we walked in, a sheen of sweat on his forehead like his nerves were getting the best of him.
Then his eyes landed on Kane and they both froze, soaking each other in for a moment before they moved at the same time. I swear you could hear the impact as they collided, arms wrapping around each other in a hug tight enough that someone groaned.
There were more than a few sniffles, but we pretended not to notice.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” Paul said. His voice was deeper than I expected.
He wore black bracelets on his wrists and torn jeans, with a band tee and loose-fitting hoodie. His hair was dark, and as they stepped apart, he shifted his black-framed glasses away to dry his eyes before adjusting them back in place.
“It’s been wild,” Kane admitted as everyone took a seat. “After they broke the bond, my mind snapped. Some sort of fucked-up self-preservation kicked in and blocked out all of my memories. I couldn’t remember my pack, barely myself. I couldn’t remember you. Hell, the only thing I held onto was making tea.”
Paul shook his head. “You always did love a good tea. I actually saved your favorite kettle if you want it back when you’re out of here.”
“Maybe I will,” Kane mused, giving him a fond smile. The camaraderie between them was obvious, almost like brothers.
“What brought you back?” Paul asked curiously.
“She did,” Kane admitted, reaching out and giving my hand a squeeze. “Honestly, they all did.This is my pack.”
He introduced each of us by name before giving Paul the rundown of how we met and everything that happened here.
Paul sat back, stunned, taking his glasses off and rubbing a hand over his face once again. It seemed to be his nervous tick.
“So, the rumors about this place were true?” he asked.
