Chapter 46

Krey felt the rise and fall of Pip's chest against his own chest before he even opened his eyes. His arms were still wrapped around Pip, and he laid in the same position he had fallen asleep in.

When Krey bothered to open his eyes, all he saw was brown wavy hair, and then he felt it tickling his skin. Further down the bed was Pip's hat that had been removed during the night.

Pip had tossed and turned and ended up back in Krey's arms with his head still pressed to Krey's shoulder.

Pip had ended up where he felt most content.

The duvet was around them, trapping the heat between them. Krey was warm, not hot, and he was so comfortable, he didn't dare move.

Krey couldn't remember when he last had such a good night's sleep, where he had woken up with a blank mind, rather than one heavy with the horrors from the previous day.

He closed his eyes again, listening to Pip's soft breathing. Krey would have fallen back to sleep if he didn't suddenly remember what his mother had told him last night.

Pip's parents were killed by werewolves.

Krey cursed his mind, only ever able to zone in on the bad things. Still, the news sent Krey's heart hammering against his chest. If he had known, he wouldn't have taken Pip to see the wolves on the field.

Pip had handled training werewolves well, but he had to lean on Krey for support. Krey could only imagine what was going though Pip's thoughts, and whether the wolves brought back tragic memories from his parent's last hours.

Krey tightened his arms around his mate, one in which had turned numb. Krey was suddenly painfully aware of the pins and needles in his hand. He didn't pull his arm out because he didn't want to wake Pip. So Krey settled his face back into Pip's hair until he heard movement by the couch.

Krey lifted his head so fast, his neck cracked.

Makena sat on the couch with a smile as soft as butter.

Krey wanted to scream at her. "The fuck," he hissed. "Get out, right now."

"I've not been here for long," Makena whispered, "I just popped my head in and-"

"I don't care! Get out." Krey scowled when Pip started to stir.

"Get up as soon as you can. We have a busy day today." Makena scoffed at Krey's glare and left, shutting the door behind her.

Krey noted that he had to get a lock, for Pip's safety and to stop himself from biting his mother's head off.

His mother had always been intrusive, but not quite this much. Krey didn't mind when he wasn't drowning in grief. Sometimes, all he wanted was to be left alone when all his mother wanted was to have someone to hold her.

Krey silently sighed when Pip lifted a hand and rubbed his eyes, occasionally brushing his knuckles against Krey's neck.

Krey watched him, wanting to greet him good morning, but wanting to see if Pip would drift back to sleep.

Pip's blue eyes graced Krey's sight. As soon as Pip saw him looking, the thought of more sleep left him like a breath to the wind.

Pip's cheeks flushed red. "Morning," he croaked, concealing a yawn into Krey's shoulder. Pip coughed lightly and scrunched his eyes shut when his head thumped.

Krey then remembered that the longer they didn't complete the bond, the sicker his mate would feel. "Morning, Pip," he whispered, thrilled that they were still so close.

"What time did you get back last night? I t-think I remember you telling me to go back to sleep." Pip shifted up the bed, so their faces were level.

"About midnight." Krey's brown eyes circled Pip's face. "Sorry for storming out like that. I hope it's okay that I slept on the bed with you."

"It's okay. I slept better because you're really warm," Pip whispered, pursing his lips and looking at Krey's arms around him. "A-And we all need time alone sometimes."

Krey's eyes settled on Pip's lips. He was glad Pip didn't wake up first to see his mother in the room. Krey planned to have a word with his mother about privacy. Quite frankly, he thought she was odd to sit in his room while they slept, despite her claiming that she hadn't been there long. Grief was making her mad.

He almost mumbled something about how annoying parents could be but held his tongue when he remembered that Pip couldn't really relate, thanks to werewolves.

"You're honestly so warm," Pip mumbled. "Is that because there's a wolf inside to make you warm?"

Krey wanted to smile. He wasn't used to feeling that way, so his face didn't move a muscle. "I suppose."

Pip closed his eyes again, and Krey stared freely at his dimples, lips, and freckles scattering his bruised nose. Slowly, Krey reached up and brushed a light fingertip over the bridge of his nose.

Pip edged backwards, frowning.

"Does that hurt?"

"It tickles."

Krey's hand moved to Pip's cheek, tracing his fingers over his blushed skin and down to his jaw. Mum's right, Krey thought, he does sort of have a babyface. Pip's cheeks were round when he smiled, and his skin was so soft and barely allowed a wrinkle when Pip frowned.

Krey's fingertips then moved to Pip's lips. With his thumb, he traced his bottom lip, a little chapped from being in the cold air. "Today will be better," he promised.

Pip opened his eyes again and his pupils were large, eating the blue. "I hope so," he whispered. What happened with Jordan had made Pip frightened to leave Krey's room. He certainly wasn't ready to venture the building by himself.

Soon, voices rose through the window sheet, voices of encouragement and thuds on the grass of people running and throwing fitness equipment. "I should be training," Krey said, wondering how soft his face looked when he relaxed it. "Would you come and watch?"

Pip nodded and caught a glimpse of Krey's clock above his desk. He knew, judging by the dullness of the room that the winter sun hadn't fully arrived. The time was only 7:45 on a Saturday morning. Pip concealed another yawn behind his hands and sat up. When he wasn't pressed to Krey's body, the air above the duvet was bitter.

"Have a hot shower," Krey said, pinching his palm to stop his mind from wandering into those thoughts. "I'll get ready after."

Pip eyed the bathroom. Thoughts of getting dragged into the room by his hair came flooding back.

Krey, smelling his fear, felt his wolf stirring with discomfort. "I'll be in here the whole time. You'll be safe."

Pip looked behind him. Krey was now sitting up too. His eyes were as intense as ever. Pip was starting to recognise Krey's certain looks. His intense eyes with a tame scowl was serious or thoughtful. Intense eyes with a ferocious glare was rage, irritation, or pain. Intense eyes with no frown was passion. His soft eyes were when Krey was most relaxed; Pip had seen them the least.

"I-I'll be quick." Pip jumped off the bed. The wooden floor was so cold, Pip hurried around the room, shivering. He grabbed the first clothes he saw in his drawer and dashed into the bathroom. The tiles were even colder.

Pip flashed Krey a quick smile before shutting the door, and the smile dropped from his face. He turned and stared at the sink. There was a moment when Jordan dunked his head under that Pip thought he was going to pass out. There was a moment when Pip thought he was going to die.

Pip felt like he hadn't thanked Krey's mother enough, or Sid, or Francis, or even Krey for flinging Jordan out of the window.

Pip shuddered at the noise of Jordan's body hitting the stone yard below. He tiptoed to the shower and turned it on to distract him with the noise.

He saw his reflection in the mirror above the sink. When he was alone, Pip looked so sad. He wasn't upset, he was just overcome with emotion. Moving into a place like the institute, being around people who were werewolves, facing so much danger in a place that was promised to keep him safe, being around someone who craved his affection all the time, and not knowing about his future, was circling his head all at once.

Pip was now unsure about his college courses. He was dealing with Debra who wasn't pleased that Pip forgot to text about not working at crescent café anymore, and just not showing up to his Friday shift. Every time his phone buzzed, Pip dreaded looking because his aunt kept sending him texts about how selfish he was.

Sleeping seemed to be the only time Pip had to be calm.

During his quick shower, a lump formed in Pip's throat. He didn't cry, but he found it exceptionally hard to smile when he left the bathroom.

Krey was sitting on his desk chair with a frown. Pip assumed he could smell his emotions, or feel them, or something similar. Pip's eyes briefly fluttered over him. Krey wore black shorts, a few inches above the knee, and he wore a black t-shirt with a small white wolf's head printed on the left side of his chest. His arms and legs were exposed. The muscles popped, even while he sat doing nothing.

Krey followed him with his eyes as Pip reached for his yellow coat. Pip faced away and made sure his gloves were in his coat pocket. He then crouched to tie his yellow converse. Krey moved to the bathroom to brush his teeth. All the while, Pip felt Krey watching him from the doorway, hoping he wouldn't ask if he was okay.

When Pip was ready, he turned and jumped when Krey was standing right behind him. Krey handed Pip his hat and reached for his burgundy scarf that still hung on the door. Krey wrapped it around Pip's neck, then lightly tugged on his coat zip.

Pip couldn't help but to look into Krey's brown eyes. He was constantly drawn to them like a dog to a puddle.

Krey's fingers cupped his chin, tilting his head up higher like he wanted a good look at his face. After staring for a few seconds, Krey said, "We're both too good at pretending that we're fine." His deep voice was quiet. He turned Pip's head slightly to the left, then to the right. "Your brave face is convincing." Krey bent down and gently kissed his cheek, pressing his lips to his skin for a long few seconds. "But not to me."

Pip, a little shocked, let Krey take his hand and pull him down the corridor because of his long strides. He looked up to Krey frowning ahead as they walked. He then realised just how similar they were. Krey understood him better than Pip thought.

Pip then intertwined their fingers and cupped his other hand around them, holding tightly to the one person who had finally seen him.