Chapter 13
Chapter
Thirteen
CASEY
" H ow the hell did I get tricked into this?" Nash grumbles, staring at the blank canvas like it’s a bomb he needs to defuse. He looks hilariously out of place in Axel’s studio, his huge frame sitting on a small stool with a paintbrush in hand. Even his glasses seem more professor than mercenary right now.
The room itself is a surprise even to me—bright and airy. Covered canvases lean against walls, their secrets hidden beneath drop cloths. The air smells of paint, turpentine, and something earthier—oils, maybe?
Three easels are set up in a loose semicircle, and I’m perched on a cushioned chair in front of them, trying not to fidget, ready to be their muse for painting. A table nearby holds a ridiculous spread of cheese, fruit, and wine that I’ve been nibbling on. These guys don’t do anything halfway.
"Because you’re whipped and you can’t stay away from Casey," Logan states, his words making me blush as he rolls up his sleeves. Even that simple motion draws my attention to his forearms, and my mind flashes to this morning in the woods. The way those arms felt caging me against the tree, his mouth on mine...
"You’re whipped," Nash protests, fiddling with his brushes like they might explode. "I’m... tactically accommodating."
Axel snorts from behind his easel. "That’s a fancy way of saying whipped, bruh. Face it… one Omega bats her eyes, asking us to do a painting session, and suddenly, you’re both channeling Bob Ross."
"Hey, I asked as I thought it would be a good group thing to do, and everyone agreed," I butt in.
"I don’t even know who Bob is." Nash picks up a second brush like it personally offended him.
"How hard can painting be?" Logan examines his own tools with the same curiosity he probably uses on weapons. "Point and shoot, right?"
"Oh, yeah." Axel’s grin is wicked as he starts mixing colors. "Just like that. Maybe you’ll both finally find your inner peace. You’re so high strung, it’s giving me secondhand anxiety some days."
"Says the man who punched through a wall last week," Nash drawls.
"That wall had it coming. It was looking at me funny."
I can’t help but laugh. They’re so comfortable with each other, and clearly, they care for one another. It’s a real pack bond. My chest aches a little, remembering when it was just me and Kai against the world.
"Well, I’m only doing this for one reason," Nash announces, picking up a tube of paint and squinting at it suspiciously.
"Let me guess," Logan smirks. "The model?"
"If I have to suffer through art therapy, we better be doing nudes," Nash answers.
They all stare at me.
I nearly choke on my water, then set the glass on the table. "Keep dreaming."
"Dreams are free," Axel says cheerfully. "Speaking of which, Logan’s been pretty quiet about this morning’s training session..."
Logan’s gaze meets mine, heat flickering in their depths. My cheeks flush as Nash and Axel exchange knowing looks.
"Nothing to tell," Logan admits smoothly.
They’re quite a sight—three dangerous men behind easels, sleeves rolled up, weapons replaced with paintbrushes. Axel appears the most natural, of course, with yellow paint already smudged on his black t-shirt. His movements are sure, completely in his element. Nash keeps glaring at his canvas like he’s interrogating it, while Logan... Logan stands relaxed, but his eyes keep finding mine with an intensity that makes my skin tingle.
"What pose will you grace us with?" Axel asks, breaking my Logan-induced trance. "Something classical? Modern? Provocative?"
"Something simple," I say, shifting in the chair. "Maybe just sitting here, legs crossed, staring out the window? You know, thoughtful but not too challenging for the beginners."
"Boring," Nash mutters, but there’s a glint in his eyes. "But I can work with it. I have... ideas."
"Your ideas worry me," I tell him.
"They should."
I settle into position, trying to clear my mind, but it keeps circling back to this morning—Logan’s lips on mine, his hands on my skin, the way he growled when... Stop it. Think about something else, like how your ass is already going numb. Or how that cheeseboard is calling your name, but you can’t move.
"Stop fidgeting," Nash commands.
"I’m not!"
"You are."
My cheeks burn. When I dare to glance at the men, only Logan is staring at me, his gaze dark with something that has me burning up.
"How long is this torture session?" I ask to distract myself.
"We’re keeping it simple today," Axel answers, his brush moving confidently across the canvas. "No backgrounds. Just... capturing the essence."
"My essence would like some of that brie," I mutter.
"Patience," Nash says amusingly. "Good things come to those who wait."
"Is that the retriever’s motto?" I ask.
"Nah, that’s ‘shoot first, ask questions later .’ " Axel grins. "Or is it ‘leave no evidence’?"
"Pretty sure it’s ‘don’t get caught,’" Logan adds.
"You’re all hilarious," I tell them. "Real comedians. Ever think about quitting your day job?"
"And miss out on all the fun?" Nash raises an eyebrow. "Never."
Time stretches like taffy. My mind wanders to darker places—my friends from the bus, scattered who knows where. Are they safe? Has Julian found them? And Kai... I need to reach my brother. The worry gnaws at my gut.
To distract myself from the gnawing fear, my traitorous mind slips to Logan’s lips, hot and demanding. The way I didn’t let him kiss me, but kissed him first with everything I had. My fingers dug into his shoulders, pulling him closer when I should have pushed him away. And God, his scent... all three of them smell like sin. And I hate that Logan was right… my heat is simmering below the surface. I feel it constantly there. Every small thing has me aroused. I mean, I kissed Logan first in the woods because I couldn’t stand the ache anymore.
I’m getting too comfortable here, letting my guard down around these men. I can’t stay. But my body isn’t getting the message, responding to their presence like it’s found its pack. Like it’s found home.
Finally, after what seems like years but must be an hour, they begin examining each other's canvases while I remain their focal point. Their gazes burn across my skin as they study their interpretations of me, each glance between canvas and subject sending shivers down my spine. My breath catches as three sets of eyes trace over me, measuring, comparing, creating. The air grows thick with their concentrated focus, and I fight to keep still under the weight of their attention.
"Holy shit," Nash says. "That’s actually good."
Axel preens. "Told you I had skills. You doubters, you non-believers..."
"Can I see?" I start to stand, needing to move.
"Wait for it..." Axel grins. "Okay, come see mine first."
I approach his easel and stop dead. He’s drawn me in oils, but I’m not sitting primly in a chair. I’m lying on the grass, hair spread out like a halo, wearing a thin white dress that leaves little to the imagination as it’s slightly transparent. My nipples are clearly visible through the fabric, and the way the dress clings... it’s sensual without being crude, beautiful in a way that makes me blush.
"Jesus, Axel."
He laughs. "What? I got your essence."
"My essence needs a bra, apparently."
"Essence doesn’t wear bras. It’s a known fact."
Nash’s painting is next. I’m sitting as posed but decidedly not wearing clothes at all. And certain assets, aka my breasts, are enhanced.
"Those are not anatomically correct," I point out.
"They’re aspirational," he says with a straight face. "Art is about potential, not reality."
I shake my head, grinning at him.
Logan’s art makes me pause. I’m standing against a tree—and of course, I’m naked here, too—but it’s the expression he’s captured that catches me. Challenging. Wanting. Dangerous. I remember him pressing me against a tree this morning. He’s caught that moment perfectly—the desire, the defiance, the hint of vulnerability.
"So," Nash calls from where he’s demolishing the cheese plate now. "Which is the winner?"
I go join him and pop a grape into my mouth, buying time.
"I can’t pick. They’re all so... creative. Though not exactly true to life."
"Art is interpretation," Axel says loftily. "Keep them. I insist."
"Definitely keeping mine," Nash adds. "Might add some details later, and it’s going on my bedroom wall."
I laugh. "So much for twisting your arm to be here." My gaze finds Logan. "What did you think? Something different?"
That slow grin spreads across his face. "I’ll give you credit. I enjoyed doing something different more than I thought I would."
We hang out a while longer, snacking and talking. The wine flows freely, though I notice Logan barely touches his. The way they move around each other, bantering and joking. They’re a real pack, these damaged men who found family in each other. Is it wrong that I feel jealous?
I’m temporary. Just passing through. The thought shouldn’t hurt as much as it does.
"I should get some rest," I finally say, standing. "Thank you for agreeing to this. It was fun." My intention had been to break Logan out of his routine of always being in control or letting him see he can find joy in other things.
Logan follows me out. Because, of course, he does.
"Thank you," he says as we walk. "For pushing me to try something new."
"Careful. People might think you’re going soft."
He crowds me against my door, one hand braced beside my head. "Nothing soft about me, sugar."
He leans in quickly, his lips on mine, no hesitation as if it’s a normal thing between us now. This time, when he kisses me, there’s nothing gentle about it. His mouth claims mine like he’s been thinking about it all day, and maybe he has. I certainly have. My fingers tangle in his shirt as his tongue sweeps into my mouth, tasting, taking. I suck down on it, loving the sweetness of his taste and the growling sounds he makes.
When I release him, he breaks our kiss, and his lips trail to my neck. A breathy laugh escapes me.
"You feel more relaxed already."
"Mmm." His teeth graze my skin below my earlobe. "Any more relaxed and you’re going to end up beneath me."
I should push him away. Instead, my head falls back, giving him better access. His growl vibrates against my skin, and I clench my thighs, heightening that tingling sensation that teases me to high hell. I’m drenched, every inch of me craving to have him naked against me.
"Fuck," he breathes. "You smell..."
"Logan..."
He pulls back enough to rest his forehead against mine. We’re both breathing hard, and I can feel him hard against my hip.
"Good night," I manage, voice shaky.
He laughs darkly, reaching down and adjusting what I notice is a huge package. My cheeks burn up.
"Sweet dreams, sugar. Try not to think about those paintings too much."
I slip into my room, closing the door and leaning against it until his footsteps fade. My body is humming with need, skin too tight, and when I press my thighs together again, slick dampens my underwear even more.
Oh God.
My heat is near… Damn Logan for being right. Now I’m stuck here and going into heat, forcing them to either help or abandon me. Though, so far, I get the impression they are going to be there for me. It terrifies me to suddenly be having sex, knotting, and heat with these men I am getting to know. They might not be interested in anything more than the present, and I try to tell myself not to get too attached, just in case.
I flip on the bedside lamp, its soft glow doing nothing to calm my racing heart. My lips still tingle from Logan’s kiss, slightly swollen, and my body buzzes with a desire I can’t contain.
What are you doing, Casey? Playing with fire like this?
The arousal pools inside me, impossible to ignore. I reach up, pinching my nipples, needing relief, but that only makes it worse. Their scents linger on my skin—Logan’s most strongly, but traces of Nash and Axel, too. When did that happen? When did I start categorizing their individual scents and learning the subtle differences? Logan smells like storm clouds and gunmetal, Nash like ancient books and expensive cologne, and Axel like pine forests after rain.
"Stop it," I mutter to myself, digging through drawers for my sleep tank top. I need a cold shower and sleep. "This whole situation is dangerous." But my body doesn’t seem to care about that. If anything, it craves it.
I can’t stay here forever.
These men are retrievers—mercenaries with hearts of gold, maybe, but still criminals. And me? I’m just a job gone sideways. A temporary complication in their otherwise perfectly balanced pack dynamic.
But once I’m gone, Julian won’t let me walk away, will he? He’ll find someone else to drag me back—someone I can’t reason with, someone even more dangerous.
Here, with them, I feel safer. Or am I fooling myself? I need a plan for when I’m no longer under their protection. We haven’t set a timeline for when I’m supposed to leave, but that doesn’t mean this is forever. Does it?
A knock at the door makes me jump. My heart leaps to my throat as I think of Logan. Has he come back? Part of me hopes he has, even while another part screams to keep my distance.
I smooth down my hair, utterly failing to calm down my nerves, and open the door.
"Back already? Can’t stay away?" The words tumble out before I register who’s actually standing there.
Nash’s eyebrow arches high above his glasses, amusement dancing in his gaze. "Well, that’s interesting."
"It’s just..." Heat floods my cheeks. "I thought..."
"All good." His grin is pure mischief. "I actually came to tell you I found a way for you to see your brother tomorrow."
Joy explodes in my chest. Without thinking, I launch myself at him, throwing my arms around his neck. "Oh my God, thank you! Thank you so much! You have no idea what this means to me. I’ve been so worried about him, and with everything that’s happening, and Julian probably watching him, and?—"
I suddenly realize I’m still pressed against him, his arms wrapped around my waist. The tank top has ridden up, his hands warm against my bare skin. Our position brings my face level with his, and this close, I stare at the flecks of amber in his green eyes.
I slide back quickly, tugging my shirt down. His grin has shifted from mischievous to something sinful.
"Happy to help." His voice has dropped lower, rougher. "Though if I’d known this was the thanks I’d get, I might have worked faster."
The air between us thickens.
"I... thank you," I manage. "Really. It means everything."
"I know." His expression softens slightly. "Family’s important. We’re going tomorrow night." He starts to turn, then pauses. "And Casey?"
"Yeah?"
"Sweet dreams. I’m sure they will be after a wonderful night with us all together."
He walks away before I can respond, leaving me staring after him, smiling at hearing he enjoyed my attempt at loosening everyone up a bit. I close the door. Fire consumes me. First Logan, now Nash…
My body’s preparing for heat, making me hyperaware of every Alpha in range. And these aren’t any Alphas. They’re strong, protective, and deadly in all the ways that make me crave them.
I force myself to concentrate on tomorrow. On seeing Kai. It’s been too long for him not to know where I am, and I have so much to tell him. Maybe he has news on my friends. Maybe he can...
A twinge hits low in my belly, subtle but unmistakable. A familiar warmth spreads through me, enough to make my breath catch. I clutch my middle.
No. Not now. Please, not now.
My heart races as I stumble to the bathroom, yanking the shower handle to hot. The Nexus instructors’ voices echo in my head.
Early warning signs can be managed. A hot shower can help ward off the preliminary symptoms...
As steam fills the room, I can’t shake the creeping dread. What if this isn’t just another initial ache? What if my heat comes fast?
Hot water pounds against the tile as I lean against the cool bathroom wall, praying the fire building under my skin will fade before it becomes something I can’t control.