Page 33 of Manix
Finlo nodded, but his grin was completely self-satisfied, like the cat who’d not only got the cream, but licked the bowl clean. Then he frowned. “I want to kiss you, but I’m not sure where you stand on that now.”
I froze with my spoon halfway to my mouth. Well, fuck. I wanted him to kiss me, like a lot. But there was noreasonfor him to kiss me now. Did he need a reason? Could I cling to the heat for a little longer?
I decided on yes, so I leaned forward to kiss him softly, and he tasted like strawberries and Ellar. I thought that might be my new favorite flavor. Finlo’s mouth teased mine, his tongue stroking across the seam of my lips softly but not trying to venture past. It was a promising, but still tentative, kiss.
When he pulled away, I missed his warmth immediately.
Danger, Naja, danger!
My brain was shouting at me. Well, at least the part of it that still cared about self-preservation, but my heart wasn’t listening. Oh no. That traitorous fucker was thundering away like we were Seabiscuit running the damn Kentucky Derby.
His eyes traveled all over my face; he could probably hear my heart pounding, but he just stroked my cheek and stepped away. “We should talk about where we go from here after Luisa goes to bed tonight. Figure out our next steps.”
I nodded dumbly and went back to eating my breakfast. They bustled around the kitchen, not crowding me or making me talk, just going about their day like I was part of the Pack. Raiden was still entertaining Luisa, and a little part of me—the part that was always drawn so tight, always ready for the next disaster—relaxed a little. I didn’t need to be anywhere, or do anything. Luisa didn’t need me right at this moment; she was being taken care of. I didn’t need to be off to the next job, or the club, or calling the landlord to fix the leaking pipe again, or trying to work out what we had to scrimp on to make the rent this month or anything. Didn’t have to worry abouthimfinding me here, at least not right now.
I could just relax, and it was a feeling so foreign to me, you may as well have asked me to turn myself inside out.
Once I’d finished breakfast, washing up my bowl and putting it in the drying rack despite Ellar’s protests, Raiden called me over to the couch. It was huge and gray, made to fit giant Manix. Luisa was curled up under a fluffy throw, her thumb in her mouth, as they watched a princess movie about a girl trapped in a tower with long, golden hair.
I could relate to that girl, trapped but convincing myself I was okay. Except I didn’t have any long hair to save me. I did have these guys though, if I just let myself grip them and scale down the side of my wall of self-isolation.
Okay, maybe that was taking the metaphor a little too far.
Raiden patted the space between the chaise section of the couch and Luisa, and I curled up in front of him, letting him spoon me with his body.
He wrapped his arm around my waist, pressing me close, but he didn’t say anything. I soaked in his warmth and comfort like I had a right to it. Like this was my life, surrounded by a Pack of hot as hell supernaturals who could make me come like a bullet train.
We got to the part where the handsome but devilish male character realized he was in love with the pretty blond girl with the long-ass hair, when Seven barreled into the room. He looked around, his eyes falling on the couch, and if I wasn’t wrong, regret crossed his face.
What was that for?
When his eyes fell on Finlo, he grimaced. “Hey Fin? Your family is here,” he called, and from the bowels of the house, I heard a muttered “Fuck!”
Raiden sat up, straightening his clothes. “You might want to go put on pants,” he said, but he seemed more amused than worried.
Before I could take his advice, five people stepped into the room. One was Gatlin, but the other four were strangers. One woman who was older—probably Finlo’s mom?—and three males, one older and two who were basically doppelgängers of Finlo.
All of their eyes snapped to me, and I gathered Luisa up into my arm, shrinking into Raiden almost subconsciously.
The woman’s eyes softened, but the males? Their eyes grew wide. Too wide.
One of the younger one’s mouth fell open, before he shouted, “Holy fucking shit, Fin! There’s a female Omega in your goddamn living room and she isn’t wearing pants.”
What a perfect way to be introduced to Finlo’s family.
23
Finlo
Iloved my family. I did. They were the best people, even my brothers. Mom and Dad had taken Gatlin in when he was a kid without even hesitating. They didn’t toe the genetic supremacy party line like most of the higher-ranking Manix, and they were just chilled out, loving people.
But they had shitty personal boundaries. And my brothers had no goddamn filters. Especially Trace.
My dad whacked him up the back of the head, and Trace flushed. “Shit, sorry. I mean, fuck, no I don’t. I mean, uh, apologies. Ma'am.”
I groaned as I ran my hand over my face. “Shut it, Trace. Guys, what are you doing here?”
My mom gave me theare you stupid or did I actually do damage that one time I dropped you on your headlook. She had that look down to a fine art. “Son, I know you don’t think you can call down for a crib one day and not expect me to come up here to see why.”
