Page 25 of Threads of Fate

Chapter Ten: Luca

Luca

The sun is creeping into their makeshift “nest” in the ICU, shooting unwelcome sparks directly into his brain when Finn whispers the sexiest words Luca has ever heard, directly into his ear: “Want coffee, baby?”

He quickly forces Luca into the restroom to wash up so they can go in search of some decent coffee nearby. Luca is simultaneously both excited and miserable, as he loves coffee but hates most people and…pants. Coffee shops mean both.

Luca remembers his tantrum the night before when he’d realized he’d have to keep his pants on to sleep (adding insult to injury), and when it had gone on too long, the look in Gideon’s eye said that he would be sorry later if he didn’t quit the whining and complaining.

Luca isn’t selfish—he isn’t! But he is a very anxious, highly sensitive person whose entire existence rests on a foundation of predictability, comfort, and affection supplied and supported entirely by his mates. By the time they’d agreed to sleep, Luca had already exceeded his stores of “unpredictable,” “uncomfortable,” and “independent.”

They’d hauled out the piles of blankets Leo had brought from home and settled them into the center of the waiting room. It wasn’t as nice as his home nest, but it smelled better than all the strangers and antiseptic.

Seeing Jay so sad, Grayson suddenly out of sorts, Gideon with his rage simmering just under the surface, and Finn full of self-doubt had Luca pulling his comfort mate, Leo, into the “nest”, yanking up his shirt and latching on to his very nice nipple like a baby. Yes, it’s weird. No, he doesn’t fucking care. Leo’s incredibly built chest is a work of art, and his cinnamon scent makes him taste so good.

Leo told him once that it gave him deep satisfaction as if Luca needed him on a basic level. At first, Luca had felt shame about his deep-seated need to bite, lick, or suck on his mates. But after almost two years of leaning into them and hundreds of hours of therapy later, Luca accepts the parts of him that aren’t for public consumption. He is confident that his mates know and love everything about him, so the rest of the world can fuck right off.

So, pants in the nest were the final straw, settling his anxiety into a low simmer. Maybe the new day, coffee, and a sugary treat will improve things. As much as it’s possible, with worry about Nix at the forefront of his mind.

“Finn,” Luca is swinging the alpha’s slender hand between them, his fluffy, newly permed hair sticking up all over and state-of-the-art headphones playing his favorite brand of white noise on repeat in his ears.

“Hmm?” Finn’s mind is elsewhere, but he squeezes Luca’s hand briefly.

“Can I have a chocolate donut? Also, do you think if Nix was a Were he wouldn’t die? Jay could bite him and—boom—good as new. Ooh, does this cafe have cheesecake?”

“Sure, baby—wait. What did you say?” Finn has pulled them to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk as people skirt around them, looking annoyed.

“Can I have a chocolate donut?” Luca takes a step forward, trying to move out of the way. Most of the foot traffic looks likemedical staff, and it can’t be a good idea to aggravate the people who save lives.

“No, no, the other thing.” Finn’s beautiful light-blue eyes are wide behind his glasses, and his tart black currant scent is all over the place.

When Luca had seen their broken mate for the first time yesterday, he’d felt the final missing piece of a puzzle click into place. This new mate was his in a way that none of the others were. Nix was his baby—his to love, to care for, and to protect in the same way the others did for him. So, he naturally turned part of his mind to doing just that. Luca is an excellent multi-tasker, thank you very much, even if he loses track of stuff more often than he’d like.

“Oh, yeah. I was thinking that Weres don’t get sick like humans, and when we break a bone, we heal faster, so it makes sense, right? That if Nix was Were, then he wouldn’t be so hurt. He didn’t smell right last night. I don’t like it. I need to know how he smells when he’s happy. Do you think he likes music? Or coffee? Ooh, what about pants? Fucking pants.” The last is muttered under his breath in genuine disgust.

“Luca, how do you always know the exact right thing—?” Suddenly, he’s being hugged (in public!) by Finn Merritt, sending every thought in Luca’s head right out the window. Finn gives the best hugs, and if it weren’t for the pants, Luca would enjoy it a lot more. “I love how your brain works. Let’s get a dozen donuts.” Then he’s being kissed so well by his gorgeous mate with his alpha’s black currant scent rolling pleasantly over his tongue.

“Wait—what is this about? What did I say?”

But Finn is pulling him into the coffee shop, choosing instead to distract him with sweets and help keep Luca on an even keel in the coffee shop, where strange scents and loud voices onlyproceed to shift Luca toward an even worse anxious state. Seems Finn Merritt knows theexact right thing,too.

It turns out that carrying eight drinks, a dozen donuts, a dozen bagels, and a slice of cheesecake (Finn said he deserved it) means no hand-holding on the return walk, and even though Finn keeps up a running complimentary critique of Long Road Home’s last album to distract him, Luca can feel the anxiety building steadily. The day only gets worse when they get back to the waiting area and the temporary nest has been all cleaned up, blankets folded, and put away in their bag from home to preserve their scent.

Grumbling with dissatisfaction, Luca tries to tune out Leo and Rowan talking about Nix’s fever in the background as they dig in. He grabs enough food and drinks to share with Grayson, who has an empty lap on the far end of the couch. Poor guy must be so lonely.

“Here you are, Gray. Coffee, bagel, and me!”

The alpha smiles, setting his phone aside and opening his arms. Luca takes the invitation, swinging his legs up onto the couch while settling his butt (finally!) into Grayson’s lap. In return for kisses, he lets the alpha feed him bites of bagel, savoring the quiet with every bite.

The minutes tick by in companionable silence, broken only by the occasional soft murmur from Grayson as he hums and avoids any of Luca’s inquiries about whatever he’s reading on his phone. Giving up, Luca rests his head against Grayson’s shoulder as the warmth of his mate keeps the edges of his worry at bay.

Still, the absence of Jay and Gideon begins to stretch uncomfortably. Luca glances at the clock on the wall, its soft ticking a reminder of the time slipping by. Rowan, sprawled on the couch, shifts restlessly, tapping a rhythm on the armrest before finally standing.

With a reluctant sigh, Luca slides off Grayson’s lap, leaving him to his endless Google searches, and retrieves his tablet from his bag, determined to distract himself and Rowan.

He convinces the younger man to help him work out lyrics for a melody that has been kicking around in his brain since yesterday. Rowan tells the fans and the press that he only plays drums and that it’s Jay, Luca, and Leo who write the songs, but not a single song in their catalog doesn’t have Rowan Foster’s input or vocals. They get a good start on the lyrics before Rowan’s eyes are drooping. Stress is exhausting normally, but for the new enigma, it’s even more so.

Grayson is still on his phone, frown firmly in place, an agitated hand running through his black hair. He’s restless, too, and the enigma’s frustrated aura is tangible. When Rowan is firmly asleep, Luca magnanimously decides Grayson needs a distraction.

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