“No,” she grabbed my shoulders and pulled me down so we were skin on skin. I slid my hands underneath her so I was holding all of her. Knotted inside and cradling her body, my purr started without me even thinking about it. Her body relaxed even further, and I purred louder.

An Alpha’s purr would always comfort an Omega. But the kind of trust it took for them to completely unconsciously relax? I wouldn’t take it for granted.

“You didn’t force me to make out with you, Ben. I wanted to. And the way you tried to fix it…” Her eyes went glassy and she blinked it away. “I don’t care if I have pictures with you. You help me not to care.”

I understood what she was trying to say. Before, when it was only her, every photograph was an assault she couldn’t stop. She was alone, wading through everyone else’s thoughts about her. With us, it was just her being with us. We didn’t care about the photos, as we’d made it clear, and we would protect her against the people trying to use her.

“But,” she said, snuggling down underneath me, “since this is supposed to be a date, and we have some time. You need to tell me something I don’t know about you.”

“Hmm. Well, you’ve already met Addison. Sorry about that, again.”

Esme grinned. “I like your sister.”

“That’s good, because she loves you and I’m sure is going to kidnap you for shopping trips. I went to art school before my parents died. It’s where I got some of the skills I use in my tattoos. But I didn’t figure out I loved tattooing until I was getting one after they died.”

“I’m sorry.” She rubbed her fingers over my arms. “You got these for them?”

“It started that way,” I admitted. “But it evolved into more. My dad loved astronomy and was always dragging Addie and me out at night to look through the telescope. It was fun, but I didn’t appreciate it as much as I should have. The other nature stuff is for my mom. Or it started for her. She was a photographer, and she loved landscapes. Some of the places are her favorites, and some of them are mine.”

“That’s really beautiful, Ben.”

“Thank you. I can’t help but see you don’t have any tattoos.” There was something singularly tempting about virgin skin to a tattoo artist. The craving to be the first one to make a mark. But if any one of our pack would be the one to do it, I would be happy.

“I thought about it. I did—do—want to get one for my dad. But I’ve just been a chicken. I already told Avery I don’t like pain.”