#wolffeeder.asks

“We could have left right after dessert,” Luna whispered, part scolding, part empathically, while Kit shepherded her from his mother’s dining room to the kitchen. 

He hated being around his family. He didn’t need to tell her that, but he had, and they both quickly figured out that she made the best shield against his mom and sisters in particular. Compared to Anders, who didn’t get it, and Rhode, who would mouth off given half a chance, Luna was…

She had a complicated parent relationship, too. She was a veteran at this kind of thing, if you only took out the multi-million-dollar house and dozens-long guest list for Christmas Eve dinner.

She spun around once the island was in reach, then lifted herself up to sit on the acrylic barstool. She felt better that way, with her back facing the all-white kitchen bigger than her apartment in Atlanta before all this. “Are you okay?”

He tried and failed to look impassive. “Perfectly normal.”

Uh-huh. Normal, not-nervous men definitely ate three slices of pie to “look busy” and avoid probing family questions around a stuffy, don’t-touch-anything dining table. Biting her lip, she glanced over her shoulder, where her gaze snagged on the picked-over appetizers from before dinner. They weren’t in perfect shape, but they were serviceable, and who was she to say Kit couldn’t eat his feelings this one time?

Besides, one plate had tiny, round, fancy flatbreads. Those were basically just cold pizza, and she reached to drag the dish close. “C’mere.”

Although she was literally talking to the flatbreads, Kit shifted closer, too. His arm sank down to cradle her shoulders; he stood over her in his sexy, protective alpha way, and when she looked up?

His eyes were intense and clear—pleading for her to fix whatever knot he found himself in.

“Let’s just take a minute,” she whispered before gently bringing a flatbread to his mouth, “and finish these. Cool off.”