“I believe you. But why would you suggest that? I mean, why—if that’s not you. Why would you bring it up? Blake, I mean.”
Dimitri picked up a wooden spoon from the counter and prodded at the potatoes in the pan. Stalling? “I have a shitty sense of humor, I guess. And I wanted to see how you’d react. I figured I’d give you what you thought you were getting,” he added abruptly. “You know. Live down to the obvious expectations.”
That hit me like a frying pan to the face.
Live down to the obvious expectations. Didn’t that just strike a chord, so deep in me that the vibrations took a second to get to the surface. I’d spent my whole life struggling with being more than the judgments of those around me, and never having anyone recognize it. Not an alpha. Not the perfect son. Never good enough, no matter what I did.
“Well, you’ve set a standard you’ll have to live up to, now,” I said, my voice rough with emotion I couldn’t hide. “You took care of me. And apparently you cook. So I’ll be expecting more from now on. You’ll just have to deal with that.”
I felt—a lightening, like a weight had lifted somewhere I couldn’t quite define. It took a moment for me to realize that wasn’t me: it was Dimitri, his own emotion transferring through the mate bond.
I’d done that. For him.
And my satisfaction, my pleasure in that, leached into the mate bond from my end, brightening it in the edges of my senses.
Dimitri shifted a little closer to me, the heat of his body soothing my physical senses, too.
I tipped my head up, unable to help a smile from spreading across my face. Being mated wasn’t so terrible, was it? Like having a roommate who cooked, and maybe even a friend. An ally.
He gazed down at me, his eyes glowing faintly, expression unreadable. His lips parted, and he leaned down a fraction of an inch.
And then the doorbell screeched, a horrible up-and-down pseudo-musical tone that made us jump apart, breathing hard and staring at each other in shock, whatever weird spell the bond had cast over us abruptly shattered.
“The fuck,” Dimitri growled. “Who the fuck? You expecting a package?”
I already got yours. I choked on a horrible burst of hysterical laughter, because a cheesy porno this was not, and if I couldn’t keep my tongue under control this was about to be a hundred times more awkward than it already couldn’t help being.
Because I knew who was at the door.
And if my mother had cut her spa weekend short to come and check on me, we were in so much fucking trouble. This kind of casual domesticity with a man they hadn’t met and wouldn’t want me to mate in the first place would horrify her. She’d see it as vulgar and low-class, not to mention the shock of her plans being disrupted.
I had to control the narrative. Introducing Dimitri like this when I hadn’t planned it out to the nth degree could be disastrous.
“Go upstairs and get some clothes on,” I hissed. “Quickly! Something decent! Jeans are okay, but like…like what I’m wearing. I know I bought you a polo shirt.”
“What—who is it? And I’m not wearing that! The fuck do you think we are, the Bobbsey Twins?”
“You’re in your underwear!” It came out almost a moan. “That’s my—oh, fuck.” I’d caught my father’s voice, a faint, discontented rumble. “Shit! It’s both of them!”
“Both of—” And then it twigged, and his mouth fell open and stayed that way. “Shit. Okay. Clothes.”
He dashed out of the kitchen, with me chivvying him along and whispering demands that he hurry.
But it didn’t matter. We were both still in the living room when a key clicked in the lock, the door opened, and my parents stepped through from the foyer, identical expressions of irritation on their faces that quickly morphed into shock as they took in the scene in front of them.
That was when I realized Dimitri was still holding the spoon.
Well, this was going to go poorly. So much for the best-laid plans of mice, men, and werewolves.
Chapter 8
A United Front
“Explain yourself,” my father said heavily. “I understood that you were too unwell to deign to go to the office yesterday. And now we find you capering around the house with…someone like this.”
Ah. So it wasn’t only Dimitri coming in and out of the gate that’d triggered this parental “concern.” My day off had rung some alarm bells, apparently.
I opened my mouth, even though my mind was spinning like a hamster in a creaky wheel and I had no fucking clue what to say, but Dimitri got there before me. “It’s traditional to spend some time alone with your new mate, and I decided to humor Brook when he wanted the day off.”Humorme? Thefuck? “Maybe you should explain why you came in without waiting for us to open the door. You’re lucky a little capering is all you walked in on.”
