Page 78 of Talk About… Dramay
“I’m trying so fucking hard not to mess this up, Ori,” he admitted.
“You’re doing fine. Don’t overthink it, do what feels right. I don’t need some fancy things to fix this. I need you, genuine and honest, facing hard stuff without running away.”
He closed his eyes and took a breath, absorbing the words and nodding lightly. I could feel the depths of his self-loathing and I wished I could help ease it. That would take time and healing on both sides, though.
My wrist tingled, the place where we bonded seemed to be slowly mending, giving me small insights of this man I’d grieved over for so long.
“Over here I put the rest of my letters. You can read them if you want, or just ignore them, throw them away. Do what you need,” he rasped as he tucked a strand of my copper hair behind my ear.
We stood there in that moment, absorbing the presence of the person we’d missed for far too long.
“Depression is hard. Sometimes it tells me that I don’t deserve this chance and threatens to sabotage me. I promise I’m fighting it with everything I have.”
My fingers wound around the back of his neck and pulled him down so our foreheads were touching.
“You never gave up on us, did you?” I asked, letting the realization sink into me. I’d seen it in the letters that dated back thirteen years and continued on. I saw it in the antiques he collected just in case. And now in the sorrow he let burrow in but didn’t let take hold completely.
“I didn’t, but I failed you, Oriana. You never deserved that.”
“No, I didn’t. You also didn’t deserve to have your world wrecked and to experience grief to that extent,” I said gently.
A tear slowly fell down his cheek and I swiped it away before kissing him, trying to send every ounce of my feelings to him. Not just the good, but the hard ones, too, so he could understand the depths that I held within me.
And also the forgiveness. I didn’t want to spend more years hating him the same way, blaming him. I wanted us to heal and thrive. Together. With our pack.
My wrist burned and we both jumped at the same time, glancing down at it and back up. A wave of confusion that wasn’t my own hit me. It wasn’t as strong as it once was, but enough I could read it.
His hazel eyes were full of awe now, and the depths of his love for me opened the connection further.
“So fucking perfect. You always have been,” he whispered. I ran my hands through his shaggy dark hair and pulled him in.
“Kiss me, Cameron,” I said, demanding he show me how much he wanted this now that I felt it.
This kiss wasn’t sweet or gentle, it was hungry and desperate. My lips tingled at the rough contact and the slight brush of his stubble. All of it grounded me in this moment with him.
The front door closing had us pulling apart. I spun around to face them, excitement bubbling up at what they had found.
“No, I bet it’s monsters. You can’t tell me women don’t love that. Have you seen fanfic sites before?!” Lane asked as their voices got closer.
“No, fairy porn is a whole thing, I’ve seen it,” Hudson argued as they turned the corner, hands loaded with bags and boxes from several different bookstores.
Had I been reading that long?
“Look, our omega is here, she can chime in and stop this ridiculous argument,” Tate said, rolling his eyes before giving me a smirk. “Plus, we all know age gap is her favorite now.”
“Why choose?” I said. “I’ll read them all.” I was practically bouncing in my spot as I waited for them to deposit all the boxes at my feet.
Cameron sat and pulled me down with him so I was in his lap, giving me a throne to sort through my offerings. More and more as we reconnected, I could feel the bond waking up. It was nice. Familiar. Yet so much more than it was back then.
“As far as first courting gifts go, I think we killed it,” Lane said proudly. His lemon, apple, and vanilla swelled in the air, filled with happiness that made it even sweeter, like fresh apple pie.
“Agreed,” I said, giving them each a glance. “Thank you.”
“We’re just getting started, Love,” Hudson promised as he sat on the couch to watch. Roman had abandoned his own sorting and sat next to him, Lane taking the other side. Tate leaned against the wall, arms crossed as he observed.
“Open them,” he ordered. That had me ripping open the first bag. I pulled them out one at a time, appreciating my growing hoard properly.
Which was driving my guys insane. Except for Cameron who just soaked in having me in his lap, his comforting heat and small waves of contentment coming through our shaky bond.