Page 69 of The Rabbit's Foot
“Tell me something. You’ve been burning the candle at both ends the last week. Which would you rather do: take me to bed and screw my brains out until I scream your name, or get five hours of sleep?”
Mal frowned. “Those are my only choices?”
When Alp stretched and yawned, Mal understood. His mate was exhausted too. He’d been running all day while Mal had sat behind the desk, poring over paperwork. That wouldn’t do.
“How about I offer a third alternative?” He scooped Alp into his arms. “I’ll take you home, make you a hot cocoa, then put you under the covers before I snuggle in with you and we both get some much-needed sleep?”
“You’re turning down sex?”
“I’m not turning it down. I’m postponing it until we both are awake enough that we don’t fall asleep midthrust. The idea of being buried in your ass all night has merits, but so does laying beside you and holding you as you sleep.”
Another yawn, and Alp put his head against Mal’s chest. “I think I might need to take your option,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s fine,” Mal promised.
Before he could assure Alp more, Mal looked down and found his mate asleep in his arms. This moment couldn’t be more perfect, at least as far as Mal was concerned. He carried Alp to their room, which wasn’t anything more than a mattress on the floor right now. He knelt beside the bed, then lifted Alp’s arms to take off his shirt. Once that was done, he manhandled him under the covers and pulled them up to his chin. He stood and stripped off his own clothes, never taking his eyes off Alp.
Mal smiled to himself. A few months ago, he would have taken someone at the bar to their place, fucked them, and left. Now? He stood here and watched his mate sleep, and nothing that had come before, no sexual encounter he’d ever had, could be better than this moment.
He went to the other side of the bed, peeled back the blankets, and crawled under them before slipping an arm around Alp’s waist and gently pulling him close enough to nestle against Mal’s body.
This, what Mal had right now, was all that was truly needed to make him happy.
“Good night, mate,” he whispered into Alp’s hair a moment before sleep claimed him.
Chapter 23
Alp could scarcely keep his eyes open. His head dipped, his chin touching his chest as he listened to Damon and Mal talk. The last four weeks had been exhausting, but ultimately satisfying. The workers Damon hired had found the base to be in remarkably good shape. There were a few walls that needed to be shored up where water had seeped into the masonry, but by and large, it was ready to be remodeled.
The crews that came in astounded Alp. There were shifters of every imaginable kind—lions, bears, tigers, lemmings, elephants, and so many others. The list was incredible, as was watching them strip off their shirts and get to work.
“Don’t make me hurt them,” Mal had said, his voice dark and dangerous.
“Huh?” Alp murmured, turning to face Mal.
“I don’t like my mate staring at other men.” He grinned and nudged Alp, tilting his head toward one of the workers. “Though that skunk shifter has a remarkable body, don’t you think? Watch the way his muscles tighten as he lifts his arms. His back is smooth and sleek, and his ass flexes every time he bends.”
Alp narrowed his gaze. “I will kill you in your sleep,” he vowed. Then he laughed when Mal reminded him that he only had eyes for his mate.
The crew worked almost seamlessly. The lion shifter—Alp couldn’t recall all their names—had taken charge, and he kept everything on track. Spaces that had once been labs were remodeled into bedrooms. Cece had come with her boys—Ivan and Teddy included—and after Wiley conferred with Micah, they told the men what kind of rooms kids would like. Their suggestions were followed, and slowly the place took shape. Alp loved watching Wiley as he pointed out places things could be better. He was definitely his father’s son.
Micah was the complete opposite. Where Wiley strode, Micah shuffled. Where Wiley stood proud and gave his opinion—he never ordered—Micah vanished into the background. What shocked Alp was when Wiley noticed, he stopped talking, went to his brother, and rubbed their cheeks together. He didn’t miss Micah’s sharp inhale, and he knew that Wiley was calming his brother through touch and pheromones.
“They’re something, aren’t they?” Cece asked, her breath ghosting over Alp’s ear.
“Yeah, they’re incredible.”
“How he treats his brother is what tells us that Wiley will make a good First. He never pushes Micah, but he also won’t allow him to hide away. Micah is an artist. He paints beautiful pictures that I love to frame and hang around the house. He glows with pride when he finishes a piece, and it’s even more evident when Wiley praises it.”
“Really? What does he like to paint?”
“He can do pretty much anything, but his favorites are the forests we run in.” She fished out her phone and held it so Alp could see the screen. “This is the one he finished the night before we left.”
The place looked so real. The trees were turning gold as fall settled in. There was a wolf standing there, and you could see the vapor from his breaths as they rose into the air and disappeared. Alp was amazed by the incredible detail. It was stunning that anyone could draw something like this, but even more that it was a fifteen-year-old boy.
“Oh, Maker. He’s got talent.”
That earned him a radiant smile from Cece. “Thank you. He loves doing it.”
