Chapter 4 Let Me Go Grayson
Grayson's POV:
“Ginny—” I reach for her, but she slaps my hand away.
“Don't call me that.”
Vanya whines beside me, not sparing her a glance. “Babyyy, let's go. I'm practically dripping.”
I ignore her.
Ginger frowns in disgust, turning to leave. I grab her wrist again, causing her eyes to narrow into slits.
“Touch me one more time and you'd regret it.”
She storms up to her room, slamming the door after her.
“Okay, first of all, rude,” Vanya says, “Secondly, what a bit—”
“Complete that statement. I dare you.”
She quietens immediately.
“That’s what I thought,” I say. “Don't bother getting me off tonight.”
“What?” Vanya pulls away from me. “Is it something I did?”
“Shut the door on your way out,” I answer, moving towards the stairs.
“Are you serious right now?” Vanya scoffs. “Because of that red-haired bitch?!”
I turn on her.
“Do NOT test me Kaizen,” I seethe, looking down at her small frame. “While I may not be your Alpha, I can just as easily snap your neck.”
Fear crosses her eyes and she visibly shudders, leaving without another word.
I find Ginger perched on her bed, one slender leg dangling off the side while the other’s curled beneath the covers. She's wearing a simple cotton top and shorts.
I exhale lowly. Even in loose clothing, her curves still show.
“Get out of my room,” she hisses the second I step in, but I don't miss the tremor in her tone. “I mean it Gray. Go back to your slut.”
“I already dismissed her.”
“Drunk and alone?”
“She's a werewolf, she'll live.”
“Or she could get mauled to death by a rogue,” Ginger says, standing. “After all, you know the stats Grayson.”
Yes, yes I do know the stats. Five rogue attacks on five neighbouring packs in the past four months. It's one reason why Ginger had to leave for Silveridge, and it's why our parents are out on patrol duty tonight.
She crosses her arms, waiting. My gaze drops to her boobs which are now pressed up against her forearms, and I fight back a groan.
“Grayson!”
“What do you want me to do Ginny?” I run a hand through my hair. “You got upset by her presence so I sent her away, and now you're worried about her safety?”
“There's a difference between wanting safety and being cautious. I'm the latter.”
I don't say anything in response.
Silence stretches long between us, tension stringing taut.
“This is stupid,” I say eventually.
“What?”
“We shouldn't be arguing like this,” I clarify, wrapping my arms around her torso, burying my nose in her neck. “I only just got you back.”
Like always, she smells of a blend of strawberries, vanilla and iced mocha. Probably her shampoo.
“Let me go Grayson,” Ginny says.
“Can't do that.”
“Can't or Won't?”
“Won't,” I admit. “I'm not moving an inch.”
It's not immediate, neither is it intentional, but her body relaxes against me then.
“What are we doing, Gray?” She leans in. “You're officially becoming my stepbrother in what—three days? A week or two from now?”
I trace my hands down her waist, suddenly feeling tired. “Doesn't matter, our parents being attached didn't stop you before.”
“What's that supposed to mean?”
I sigh and head to the door, locking it. “Stop fighting me Ginny. It won't get you anywhere.”
She gives me what she thinks is a withering glare, but in reality just makes her look cute.
“Look, let's just rest tonight, okay? It's gonna be tough enough dealing with the humans at school tomorrow.”
I pull back the covers, waiting for her to get in.
Ginny rolls her eyes and climbs into bed, letting me spoon her. I pull her even closer to me till I can feel every inch and crevice of her skin, her body heat mixing with mine through the thin fabric of our clothes.
It's comfortable, it's intimate, and it's intoxicating.
“Grayson?”
“Yes Ginny?”
“Stay with me tonight.”
The way she says it gives no room for argument. Not that I would want to leave anyway.
I try to hold on as long as I can, but at some point in the morning I slip out of bed, solid as a rock.
I relieve my need in Ginny's bathroom—cumming hard at the memory of her taste—before undoing the latch and slipping back to my room, knowing that this haven, this little semblance of bliss, would be shattered by tomorrow.
Ginger's POV:
I woke up in good spirits the next morning.
No wait, I lied.
I woke up to an empty bed. Grayson was gone, but his scent lingered, lifting my mood slightly.
Yes, before you ask, sleeping next to Grayson Blackwood does that to you.
Tell him—or anyone—I said that, and I WILL deny it, 100%.
I shower quickly and shuffle downstairs, wincing every other second at my uniform’s size.
The kitchen is an organized messhouse in itself. Wrapped with the scent of different foods and spices wafting through the air.
Omega-ranked servants bustle through the doors, each one carrying a separate dish or order of some sort.
I forge straight ahead, confused by the burst of activity, but go stock-still upon seeing Roman by the counter.
My face flames remembering how I spent the night snuggled up with his son, but a second emotion swiftly takes over.
Guilt.
“Good morning,” I mumble awkwardly, opening the fridge.
“Morning,” Roman responds.
I scan through the rows of chilled goods, searching for some orange juice. “Milk…Lasagna…Ham…come on, where are you?”
“Your mother left it by the pantry,” he offers.
“You are a life saver,” I tell him, grabbing hold of the cup.
“Happy to be of help.”
I pause. “Roman, about yesterday—”
“Don't mention it.”
“No, really. I want to apologise,” I insist. “I was seriously out of line.”
“It's fine. You were upset, I get it.” He gives me a pointed look. “I know I'm not exactly the nicest man to be around, but I meant it when I said I love your mother and would never hurt her.”
I hold my breath and then exhale. Maybe that's what I needed to hear.
“You have my blessing, Alpha,” I say finally, and Roman smiles, his grey eyes crinkling at the sides.
“Now,” I nod towards the dining area where dishes are being set. “What's the big occasion?”
