Killian stirred the soup on the stove. He was getting better at cooking too. He wanted to be able to take care of Naomi, but it was a lot harder for him to learn because he tended to be impatient.
Naomi was reading, sitting on a stool against the island.
He turned to her. "When I met you, you said you were almost twenty. "
He saw her cheeks darken and he held back a smile.
"When's your birthday?"
She continued to stare at her book.
"Naomi," he called, but she didn't budge. "I'll tell you mine. It's next month, November fifteenth."
She finally looked up. "Tomorrow. " she whispered.
He held back from saying anything stupid to stress her out. Tomorrow? Why wouldn't she tell him? She probably had a good reason, but it better not be because she was too shy to say something.
"I don't like celebrating," she said quietly, closing her book.
He frowned, turning his back to serve their food. He slid her a bowl.
"I understand. You could've told me."
"I'm sorry," she whispered, reaching for him.
He took a seat beside her, taking her hand. "Don't be."
He couldn't help but feel a little offended. He didn't have any right to be. Who knows what her past birthdays have been like, but he wanted to use it as an opportunity to prove he cared about her, that he was there and that he listened.
"Don't be upset, Kill, please," she said, tugging on his fingers.
He was surprised to hear the nickname. It sounded so sweet coming from her lips.
"I'm not upset, princess," he said, turning to face her. He laced their fingers.
She shifted in her seat and he waited patiently for her to speak. He could tell she was carrying something heavy today, something she was normally good at hiding.
"I want to tell you something," she whispered, tears already gathering in her eyes. Her face was haunted. She was reliving the past, caught in her demons.
He nodded. They abandoned they're meal to move to the couch. He stretched out, and Naomi sat between his legs, laying against his chest. He took her favorite blanket and draped it over her shoulders.
She shuddered, and gave a pitiful whimper that broke his heart. He wished he could take away her pain and suffering. He wished he could have taken her place. He was lucky to have two parents who loved and adored him.
"My uncle lived with us for awhile. I was too little to remember why." A soft sob left her lips. "He killed them. I was in the house, I heard everything."
Her cries deepened, and he rubbed her back, feeling his heart beat violently in his chest.
"He took on the role of my parent, but it was so wrong. I knew what he did. We never left the house. He started touching me-" a pained cry left her lips, the tears soaking his shirt. He felt his own emotions rise at her distress.
She hiccuped, "And on my birthday, he told me I was old enough, so he laid me on the bed and he-"
"Stop," Killian croaked, unable to hear anymore. His own tears fell, mixing with hers. He squeezed her tight.
She reached up, even through her own tears, to wipe his away.
There was some obvious relief, to let go of something so heavy. Her damp lips caught his cheek and she gave a final shudder as her tears dried out.
"Is he dead?" Killian asked, his sadness morphing into a hot anger. He would kill him himself, rip him apart piece by piece.
She shrugged, "I was taken away." She rubbed his chest, feeling him tense.
"I'm sorry I brought up tomorrow," he said sincerely, feeling guilty that he caused all of these emotions.
"I was tired of carrying that alone," she admitted. "I'm ready to move on- with you."
He smiled weakly. "You're not alone. I'm here for you, whatever you need."
She sighed gratefully, settling on his chest. He pulled the blanket back over her shoulders.
"How about you and I make a cake together tomorrow?" Killian asked, playing with her hair. "Baby steps."
She nodded, taking his hand and admiring the colorful ink.
"I like them," she said, tracing the tribal print up his arms.
"Yeah?" he was happy they were able to move away from the heavy topic. "It goes all the way to my chest." He used his other hand to show her where it ended over his shirt, just under his left pect.
"I want one," she said, her little hands still tracing the ink absentmindedly.
"Where? Of what?"
"You asked too soon," she pouted. "Just something small, somewhere hidden."
"You don't want a sleeve?" he teased. "I have another I'd like to get, so we could get an appointment."
She nodded, thinking over all of her options. It was a big decision, but it felt good to finally be in control, finally be the one deciding on her life.
"Come on, baby, we should probably finish dinner. You wanted to start training with me next week, remember?"
She smiled a little, using her palm to wipe her cheeks. How could she forget? She was really excited.
They ate and cleaned up together. They were both emotionally exhausted and ready for bed.
"Can I sleep with you tonight?" Naomi asked, looking wide eyed and adorable.
"Of course you can," he said without hesitation.
She still got ready for bed in her room, but went on down the hall to Killian's.
"I don't think I've seen your room before," she said. She didn't know what she expected, but it wasn't what she thought.
She expected something dark, maybe messy, but this was plain and everything was so neat she wasn't sure anybody even stayed in there.
The walls were grey. The bed frame and night stands were wood, and the comforter was navy. Other than that, the walls were bare and the room was empty. She turned to Killian who was watching her intensely.
"I knew this was the room I'd share with my mate, so I hated staying in here."
"You didn't want a mate?" she wondered out loud. She wasn't offended by it. She didn't doubt Killian's feelings for her one bit.
"Not that," he moved closer, his arms crossed and he looked vulnerable, young. "I have been so damn lonely, Naomi. My parents were my best friends. I became Alpha, got this house. I wanted to stay in the main house, but some of the pack officials thought it was inappropriate. Most wolves have their mates when they become Alpha."
"That's a lot of change," she whispered. "Plus me."
"You were a good change," he moved closer, his hands reaching for her shoulders. "You feel like home."
She smiled, biting her lip to hold in the giddiness that filled her.
His lips quirked up, he nudged his nose with hers, their mouths brushing just the slightest before he pulled back.
"We could decorate," she said, reaching for him. Her hands went to his waist and not his shirt like normal.
"I wouldn't mind that," he said, seeing just how bare it was compared to the rest of the house. "Come on."
They moved to the bed. Killian took the left, and she the right.
His bed felt even better than her own, but that was probably because he was in it.
"You can come closer," he chuckled, extending his arm.
She shifted towards him, curling into his side, and extending her own arm over his stomach.
He was so warm and smelled so good. He was her home.