Page 52 of Alaska Lights

I’m obsessed with him.

“Hi,” is all I can manage to reply with. My mind just isn’t working how it used to with him next to me.

“You know, you gave me enough food to feed four people.”

I did something wrong. He doesn’t like it. “I can make you another plate. What do you want? I have anything. Everything, actually. It won’t take long—” I stand as he reaches out, snagging my wrist within his fingers.

“—No. No. Nothing like that.” He licks syrup off his lips, and immediately I’m drawn to the movement of his tongue, the pink tip sliding back and forth over his bottom lip.

His gaze flicks from my face to where he has me cuffed with his fingers. I’m staring too because I don’t want him to take away his hand. I love how his hand feels on me. Sparks travel between us, the bond strengthening. The connection buzzes like warm static.

The feeling is so strong; it has me sitting back down.

He releases me, and I almost reach across the table to take his hand in mine.

Almost.

Instead, I curl my fingers against my knee to stop myself.

“I just meant that you gave me a lot of food. It’s delicious. You made all of this yourself?”

I stab the eggs with a fork, trying to hide the disappointment that I gave him too much. “I did. I heard your stomach growl and thought you could use a good meal after everything you’ve been through. Apologies.” I point at his plate with my fork. “For giving you too much.”

“Are you kidding? I feel like a king.” He shoves a giant scoop of eggs and hash browns into his mouth, his cheeks stuffed as he tries to chew.

He is a king.

I’m going to give him everything he wants, just like a king deserves.

His feet hit mine, and I peek over at him to see if he is going to say anything. Leo continues to eat without a care in the world. His legs shake, and that’s when I scent his nerves. There is an increase in his anxiety.

The sweet honey aroma I love from him takes on a bitterness that has me reaching for my coffee. I don’t like that smell. Something is wrong, but I can’t ask without giving myself away.

His foot is flat on the ground, inching closer to mine, and that bitterness is becoming even sharper. I hide my hands under the table when my claws lengthen, wanting to fight the invisible enemy that is his anxiety.

Nothing is allowed to make him feel like this. I don’t like it, and I don’t know how to fix it.

The edge of his foot hits mine, and his racing heart finally slows. Leo releases a breath that’s too quiet for a human to hear. But me? I hear that and more.

That sharp bitterness eases; the sweet, delicious honey that I want dripping onto my tongue returns.

We don’t say anything to each other. We ignore the touch as if it’s not a big deal, and if it were anyone else, it wouldn’t be.

But this is my mate. He wanted—no, he needed to touch me to feel better.

I won’t argue about that because I feel better too. I’ll take his touch anytime, anywhere, even if for now we’re both figuring out how to touch each other.

I’ve never been more excited to learn in two hundred and forty years.

“I have to go get changed and get to work, but make yourself at home. I know you said you wanted to reach your sister and…” Alaska grumbles, “Brian.” He says my friend’s name like it burns his throat. “The radio works, but the storm was really bad. All airways, roads, and water routes are closed and might be for the next week.” He stands, the chair creaking after being freed from his big body.

A tree I find myself wanting to climb.

“Did you know the first radio transmission happened in 1901?” I blurt, then bite my tongue for spewing other nonsense.

Alaska doesn’t care about that.

“Is that so?” he asks, taking his plate to the sink.