My focus was on Hollister now and always.
"In my mouth," Hollister mumbled, draped over my bare chest while still very much asleep. And dreaming, clearly. "Put it in my mouth."
This wasn't the first time I'd overheard Hollister sleep-talk during a sex dream. It was something he'd done often and never failed to make me jealous. I knew my pet couldn't control what he dreamed about. I could only hope anything that made him sound that excited involved me.
"Mm, yes, so good, dark, definitely not blond, stranger…" Hollister murmured.
His breathing had changed, so I knew he was awake and teasing me. "Nice try, pet."
Hollister opened his eyes, stretching his arms over the top of me. "What? Huh? I'm just now waking up," he said with mock innocence.
He stretched out the stiffness from a night spent in deep sleep. After our time on the shore, I'd been eager to get him into a shower, and then he'd looked too sleepy and comfortable to make him drive back to Lawrence.
Hollister lifted his head, looking around like he was only just noticing our location. "I'd convinced myself that yesterday was a dream. But it wasn't. You're a wolf. There are more people than just me that can do impossible things."
"And I love you."
The apples of his cheeks rounded as he smiled. "And you love me." He pushed off my chest like he was trying to leap off the bed, but I grabbed him around the middle.
"And?" I was fishing, but I wanted to hear him say it again, if only so I could convince myself last night hadn't been a dream. Hollister hadn't only accepted who I was, but he hadn't looked at me like I was weak, or less of a man, like I'd been expecting.
"And you're stuck with me now," he said.
I flipped him over, making him squeal. Nestled in the pillows, he looked up at me, and my chest felt tight. I wasn't stuck with him. He'd set me free. All this time, he'd been the catalyst I needed to move on with my life and finally accept something I should've a long time ago. And now, I needed to thank him.
He must have seen what I had planned because his pupils darkened as his lips parted.
"Aver! You up?" Branson yelled while pounding on the door.
"You would be now if you weren't," Hollister joked before suddenly darting his eyes to the door. "Dang! He heard that, didn't he?"
The pounding stopped long enough for Branson to laugh and knock more. "I did."
Laughter came from somewhere behind him; it sounded like Phin.
"Riley is at work, and I'm going to take Bran to the house to keep searching. Do you want to come?"
No, I didn't. I wanted to stay in bed and make love to Hollister. But my pet's eyes gleamed with excitement. He was eager to see other shifters and more of that world. He'd been given only the highlight reel the night before. "When are you leaving?"
Maybe I'd be lucky, and he'd say after lun—
"In ten minutes. I'll meet you in the rig."
He was gone before I'd agreed, and without enough time for me to do anything about the throbbing need between my legs. Hollister had been so deliciously needy the night before. His eyes had gone unfocused, hazy with desire. Seeing him come apart in my hands had been my second favorite moment of the night. My first was the moment right after that, when he'd agreed to stay.
We hadn't talked about making the move, but he'd already packed most of his belongings anyway. They'd fit in a backpack and large duffel. His friends were also important, so I needed to figure out how to make sure he kept those interactions, while also fulfilling his need to help others.
When our gazes met, Hollister bit his bottom lip, sucking it between his teeth. I inhaled, but the smells were just all of Hollister and his need. After a steady exhale, I kissed the tip of his nose. "To be continued."
"Do you ever mess with people? Turn into wolves just to scare them?" Hollister asked, his face plastered against the window.
I smiled, remembering he'd been that way on the ferry. Filled with curiosity and wonder. Seeing his passion for the world and everything in it stoked my passion. Before Hollister, things had been black and white with minute shades of gray. Now, my world was in color. But I didn't want to stare at the window, just at Hollister.
"I've never," I said from the front seat while baby Bran kept yelling 'Tree!' over and over.
He'd been picking up words quickly these days. We had to be much more careful about what we said around him.
"Neither have I, but we were taught that humans were mostly to be ignored."
"Harsh," Hollister replied.
Branson turned down the driveway that led to his childhood home. As the two-story brick mansion came into view, Hollister turned his attention from his window to the windshield.
"Okay, so everyone is loaded here. That's not at all intimidating or anything."
Branson's old home was impressive, but it was impossible for any of us to look at these homes without thinking of everything else that came with it.
Thankfully, the driveway was empty. Only Delia's town car sat in front of the house. Someone should've move it into the garage, but Delia and her butler had been taken too quickly for either to give the order.
And after she'd tried to kill Riley and kidnap Kansas, there wasn't a prison cell dark enough for her. I could forgive the lifelong meddling and manipulations—if not forgive, then forget. But none of us could allow someone who had proven themselves dangerous to any of the mates to remain in our lives.
Branson opened the door. There was no need to lock houses on pack lands. Not that crimes never occurred, but when they did, the culprit was normally located and dealt with quickly.
"I've been coming here searching every room since she was arrested, but other than the safe, I haven't found anything of note and nothing I could use to prove her guilt. If I knew what to look for…" He looked down at his son, walking alongside him on unsteady feet. Branson exhaled slowly, releasing the tension that talking about his mother brought him. "I'll find something. She wasn't dumb enough to write down her evil plans, but there is proof in this house, and I will find it."
We split up to cover more space. Branson and Bran took the top floor while Hollister and I searched below. But, if Branson didn't know what to look for, then Hollister clearly couldn't be expected to either. He mostly walked around the room, careful about what he touched. We'd told him enough about the type of woman Delia was that he didn't want to touch any of her things unprepared.
We worked through the downstairs study and then over into the dining room. There weren't as many places to hide things in the dining room, so we quickly moved into one of the sitting rooms. Hollister stood in front of the window, looking out, when he suddenly stiffened and backed away.
"There's someone here," he said, returning to my side.
I grabbed his hand, walking us both to the window. "It's my father. Someone most likely told him they'd spotted us."
Hollister pulled his hand free, and I thought he wanted to walk behind me instead, so I didn't question it. This hadn't been how I thought I would come out to my parents, but it was a good a time as any.
I opened the front door before my father could knock.