Finn
She’s wearing a navy-blue pantsuit that smells like marmalade toast and is clutching Soren’s file in front of her like a shield. We’ve all dressed up for the occasion, Creed in a smarter version of his standard black, and Lang in a grey pinstripe that wouldn’t look out of place at a society wedding. I’ve discarded my hoodie for a leather jacket, white shirt, and dress pants, which is as close as I get to a professional look. I’ve spent too many hours in boardrooms and war rooms to subject myself to any kind of uniform ever again.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Visser,” she begins, tugging her cheap purse strap over her shoulder. As we’ve established, I don’t give a fuck what she wears to the office, but she looks exactly like a cash-strapped university student who is only here because she’s out of options. “I had a couple of things to take care of, but I won’t be late again.”
“Call me ,” I tell her flicking a glance at Lang. I can scent some residual aggression coming off him, but I know he’ll catch me up later. All that matters is that Emily is here now. “I expect it will take you a moment to find your feet, but we plan to jump right in, so I hope you’re ready.”
Lang’s cheek flexes, but I ignore him. He’s hovering over her like a guard dog, but we’ve already agreed how today will go. Emily has signed the contract, which means she’s mine now. And I don’t see any point in putting off the inevitable.
I wave her towards the private elevator. There are seven levels in total, with three above ground and four below. Like an iceberg, the bulk of our business happens out of sight, and while most of the people who work for Vise Security have given up the luxury of windows, Emily Nash isn’t just an average employee.
She’s going to get a front-row seat to the inner workings of my world.
I watch her in the polished doors as the four of us step into the elevator. She’s positioned slightly in front of me, and the way her gaze is fixed on the control panel gives me a perfect view of her smooth neck and soft profile. Her skin is flawless, with a smattering of gold freckles sprinkled across her cheeks like a faint constellation. Her mouth is wide and pink above a firm, dimpled chin. Her forehead is also broad, but it’s her almond-shaped eyes that command attention, large and inquisitive within a frame of thick, dark lashes. I’ve studied every photograph from her social media accounts to her university access pass, and I still can’t tell if they’re blue or hazel. All I know is that they’re so full of curious light, a sizzle of anticipation races up my spine every time she glances my way.
She wore a denim skirt and a band tee to the interview yesterday, and while she tugged uncomfortably at both, the outfit flattered her better than the pantsuit she’s wearing now. She looks small and pale in the navy jacket, her luscious red hair pulled into a sleek, no-nonsense bun. Despite the subdued clothes, her scent is sweeter now, more honey than marmalade, and I think about her and her bees. Does she smell so appealing because she spends time with them, or are bees drawn to her because they mistake her for the sweetest of flowers?
The doors slide open, and we step out onto the project floor. My office is above us, but I’m serious about putting Emily straight to work. “Did Lang take you through Soren’s file?”
“I’ve had a quick look at it.” She shoots Creed a sympathetic glance. “I don’t have Derek’s modelling skills, but I’m good with data, I know my way around most scientific documentation, and I’ve been told I have strong attention to detail.”
She does a good job of selling herself, but we can all sense her nervousness. It radiates off her in waves, and since we’re all dominant alphas, it’s intensified by our nearness. It’s not in our nature to back off and give her room, and in fact, Creed takes a small step in her direction. Not touching, but for Creed any physical show of support is a big deal. I don’t think he has willingly put his hands on anyone except our enemies in the last twelve months.
“We appreciate you coming on board,” he says, his voice dropping to a soothing rumble. “But let’s get you settled in first.”
I raise my brows, since the last time Creed settled anyone anywhere it involved a SIG Sauer, a shovel, and an eight-foot hole.
Emily smiles, a pair of dimples flirting in her cheeks. “Thanks. I’m eager to get started.”
“Perfect,” I tell her. “To orient yourself, the labs and offices are on this floor and the one below, including server and security rooms in the basement. Above us is my office and meeting rooms, and above that is a swimming pool, green space, and rec center. Lang will give you the full tour once we’ve got your credentials sorted.”
“They’re sorted,” Creed says quickly. “If she wants the tour, I’m good to go.”
Lang coughs – I assume to hide the stupid grin taking over his face – and rocks back on his heels like he’s front-row at a bloodsport. I turn my attention to Creed, catching a razor-sharp glance directed my way.
Is this how he wants to play it?
We’ve always been like two opposing forces, my take-charge approach in direct contrast to his need to control all variables. I’m not adverse to planning, but ultimately, you just have to commit to an action and run with it. And if nearly two years of intensive research has taught me anything, it’s that controlling fate is like trying to leash a hurricane.
“Fine,” I say shortly, but turn to Lang. “Show Ms. Nash around and set her up at one of the workstations. I’ll be in my office.” I give Creed a hard look. “Check in with your team, then come join me.”
I turn and take the elevator up to my office, checking my emails while I wait for Creed. He doesn’t take long, already stripping off his black suit jacket as he strides into the room. I’m pretty sure he loses a button as he tugs up his sleeves, and I walk over and sit on the sofa while he paces from one side of the room to the other.
“We shouldn’t rush this,” he mutters, rubbing at his nape. “Too many things could go wrong.”
“We’re prepared for all outcomes,” I reply, unfazed by his mood. “It’s the right time to move things to the next phase.”
“It’s not a phase ,” he snaps, his disgruntled tone at war with the scent of hope bleeding into the air. “This is everything , and I don’t want to fuck it up.”
“You won’t.” At his pointed look, I sigh. “ We won’t. I’ll handle the meeting, as discussed, and you can observe from the security room.”
He clearly doesn’t like the word ‘meeting’, because his brow scrunches into a fierce knot, his shoulders like boulders under his black shirt. Creed is physically much bigger than I am, with a heavy frame wrapped in hard-earned muscle. I get to the gym every day, but prefer running and swimming to lifting weights, while Creed still holds records in his platoon for deadlifting the equivalent of a small tank.
“I hope to fuck this works,” he mutters, finally coming to a stop in front of me. “I mean… she’s really sweet, you know? And even though her old man’s a grade-A fuck, she wants to help out. As soon as she heard about Soren, she was instantly onboard.”
“Of course she was. She’s our missing piece.”
My certainty only makes his scowl deepen. “You can’t know that, . Not for certain.”
I settle back against the chair, breathing in the scent of leather, musk, and Creed. Behind him, an endless array of code bleeds across the bank of computer screens, and I smile up into his tense face. “She smells like ours. Plus, I have the data.” Not that I need it. I knew it the second I took her soft hand in mine. She’s the one we’ve been looking for, the answer buried in countless hypotheticals, interviews, and datasets. “She’s here because she’s meant to be, Tyler.”
“Yeah, but what if it all goes tits up?”
If he’s resorting to barracks’ slang, he’s more stressed than I expected, but I won’t let him own his fear. “We’re prepared, and she’s on board. This is going to work.”
“She’s not afraid of you,” he says quietly but I can hear the question in his voice. “Yesterday I thought you were going to scare her off, but today she seems almost comfortable around you. How did you do it?”
“I had a chat with her and her boyfriend last night,” I reply, leaning back and giving him a brief smile. “I’m not an idiot, Tyler. Fear and poverty are great motivators, but nectar catches more bees than vinegar.”
He gives a bark of a laugh. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“Emily is sensitive enough to realise that I’m both dominant and dangerous, and based on what she told us about her father, has ample reason to be cautious of alphas like me.” My smile grows into something that feels almost smug. “But she also perfumed with arousal when I touched her, so there’s that in my favour.”
“Get over yourself,” he huffs. “She looks at Lang like she wants to lick the stubble off his face.”
Instead of arguing my case, I pin my best friend with a look and pat my lap. “Come here, Tyler.”
Despite all the shit he’s been giving me, he responds without hesitation, dropping into the space between my legs and resting his forehead on my thigh. He’s as tense as I’ve ever felt him, and his breath is coming in tight, shallow gasps as he leans against me. I run my fingers through his hair, which has grown out a few inches since he left the Regiment. He wears it in a sharp V at the front, but it curls over his nape in soft waves. There’s the faintest hint of amber in his shampoo, but the rest of him smells like metal and musk. Some alphas outgrow their years of service, but Creed is still a soldier right down to his marrow. Which is why he kneels so beautifully for me, when any other alpha who tried to own him would end up in pieces beneath his boots.
After a long moment of soaking up my attention, I nudge him back and tilt up his chin. “Was Derek really sick or is he just getting cold feet, do you think?”
He takes the change of topic without batting an eyelid. “The flu. Lang checked personally, while I planted the bugs like you asked.”
I hum, thinking what a great pair they make. No one does care and considerate like our professor, while the man under my hand has yet to meet four walls he can’t infiltrate.
“The spare room is untouched, and there’s not a lot of her stuff around, but they’re definitely doing sleepovers.” A wolfish grin splits his tanned face. “I can promise you she’s doing a lot more than perfuming around her big beta.”
I grunt, but I’ve spent enough time stalking them both to know they’re crazy about each other. “He said they’re a package deal. You have a problem with that?”
He shrugs. “He’s smart, hardworking, and looks like he could fuck me into next week. What’s not to like?”
I smirk. Tyler has a soldier’s attitude towards sex, which tends to be the more the merrier.
“Plus, you really think she’s the one, and I’m not about to start betting against you now.”
I can smell the musky tang of hope leaking from his pores, and I grip his chin more tightly. For all his talk of sex, this is the only touch he can bear, always administered behind closed doors and down on his knees. It’s a release for both of us, but he’s still as tense as a wire as my thumb strokes his cheek. “We’ll know soon enough. You just have to trust me, Tyler.”
He huffs out a broken sigh. “Fuck, I’m a mess and a half, .”
“Do you want me to help you with that?”
I point at the tent in his trousers, and he chuckles, low and dirty. “We both know you prefer to watch.”
“Guilty as charged.” I release his chin and settle more comfortably in my chair as he sits back on his heels and works his cock out of his pants. The fabric strains over his massive thighs and he palms his shaft as he impatiently shoves his trousers and boxers out of the way. I’m not particularly turned on by a man’s anatomy, but I get a lot of satisfaction out of watching my pent-up friends come all over themselves. “Careful with your shirt,” I smirk. “It looks like you’ve got quite the payload there.”
He grunts, a lazy heat climbing his throat as he starts to jerk off. Creed is ruthless with his pleasure, tugging and twisting his cock like it’s done something to offend him. I lift my foot and rest the toe of my boot on his straining thigh. “Slow down. We have time.”
“I thought you wanted to get to the next phase ,” he sasses, but he obeys me as if commanded, treating his mushroom head to a slower swirl of his fingers. He’s already leaking, the tip swollen and red, and despite his best efforts, I know he’s not going to last long. “You don’t come until I say, Creed,” I warn him, the tip of my boot moving to press against his balls, still tangled in his boxers. “I don’t care what kind of honey you’ve got in your nose, I’m in charge here.”
He groans but nods, his strong fingers gripping the base of his shaft to stem his orgasm. “There’s more than honey there,” he says tightly. “What is that?”
Ours . She smells like things I never thought I’d find – home, safety, maybe even some kind of peace - although I don’t torture Creed with that in his current state.
“Maybe a little of her beta.” I think of Derek, who smells like freshly cut grass despite his scowls and glares, and I wonder what he would look like next to Creed, down on his knees as he comes apart under my gaze. I’m certain he would fight me, but in the end, his submission would be all the sweeter for the struggle. “Just imagine how she’ll smell when Soren is done with her. Can you think of anything better than our sweet girl and our bitter boy together?”
I use a darker voice, wrapping us both in the fantasy that’s plagued us since she first came to our attention.
“Fuck,” Creed groans, finally lifting his face to mine. “Please, Alpha. Let me come.”
Orgasm denial is one of his favourite kinks, but he’s too wound up to enjoy it right now. “Spill for me. I want you to soak your hand with everything you have.”
A tremor ripples through him, his hips thrusting violently as he surrenders to his pleasure. His musk fills the air, settling the beast under my skin, and I give a satisfied purr. He basks in my approval as he milks himself dry, then huffs as he stares down at the cum cupped in his hand.
I was right about the payload, to the point that his shirt really is in danger, and I nod to the tissues I keep under the sofa for moments like this. He cleans himself up, his movements a little more relaxed now he’s taken the edge off.
I wait until he’s zipping himself back up before I say, “Tell me about this new landlord.”
His eyes darken with something other than lust now. In fact, he looks on the edge of snapping his teeth. “He admits he’s her ex, and he’s not happy about it. He also told me he has friends on the force, which was a definite threat.”
I nod, since we have a thick file on Rick Wagner, including the shady deals he does out of his sports bar and the kickbacks he takes from the cops when he sells out his patrons’ secrets. “He also said he has incriminating stuff on both Emily and her sister, Claudia.”
“Digital?”
“Didn’t say, but I’ll start digging.”
“Put a team on it.” He nods and gets to his feet. His movements are as smooth and efficient as usual, but I can tell his afterglow is fading fast. The suppressed violence he’s been carrying around since he arrived settles back over him like armour, and I quirk a brow at him. “You want the green light on this guy?”
“He’s a mission, but not the main mission.” A distinction we’ve made plenty of times in the past when we’ve run up against a particularly nasty individual. Between us, we always have a dozen targets on the backburner, but from the look on Creed’s face, we’ll need to move Rick Wagner closer to the top of the list. “He thinks he owns her, , and he plans to do something about it.”
I shrug and get to my feet. Guys like that are always thinking something until they come face-to-face with reality, which in this case, is the full force of my attention. “And we’ll deal with him. But right now, we need to take the next step, Creed.”
This time, he doesn’t argue with me. “Lang should have finished the tour by now. You sure you don’t want me to come with you?”
I reach out and grip his shoulder. “You’ve done your part, brother, now let me do mine.”