22. Ivy
TWENTY-TWO
IVY
I was beginning to regret not tying them back up so I could make a stop at my house for a change of clothes and some supplies. Now, my cellphone battery was damn near dead, I still needed to call off of my shifts for the foreseeable future, and I was stuck wearing this fucking miniskirt and half-hoodie, pantiless in a house full of men who made it hard to forget the stickiness between my thighs, or the way my body had reacted to theirs.
If I were being honest with myself, I wanted more of it. So much more.
But at the same time, I wanted nothing to do with them or their dicks.
Jackal and Dingo had come out and sworn they wouldn’t try anything if I wanted to catch some sleep, but I was insistent on staying up. I wouldn’t put it past either one of them to lie to my face and put a blade in my back the second I turned around. So I’d loaded the pistol, double-checked the chamber, and posted up in the chair I positioned in front of the door, ready to shoot the first motherfucker who tried me tonight.
Except I was running on fumes, exhausted as hell, and very much aware that my grip on consciousness was fading.
When the whole apartment of men was silent, I let my eyes drift closed, swearing to myself it would only be for a minute. I’d hear them if they came out and tried anything.
I woke up to the sound of someone rummaging in the fridge. In the light of high noon, I could just barely make out a set of broad shoulders, his back in shadow, the sun casting him into shadow on my side. The way his hair swayed around his face, though, gave him away, and I breathed a sigh of relief when I realized it was only Coyote, the quiet one.
He seemed like he’d be the least trouble out of the three, but there was no way to tell for sure. It was always the quiet ones who surprised you in the end. I couldn’t afford to take any chances.
He turned with two tall cans in his hands, as well as a bag of popcorn fresh out of the microwave, and padded slowly over in my direction, stopping on the couch with a soft smile in my direction.
“Hungry?” he asked quietly, holding up the popcorn bag to shake it at me.
I shook my head, even though I was drooling at the idea of that buttery softness practically melting in my mouth. Hot, fresh, and with just the right crunch to make it a perfect midnight snack. I skipped lunch and dinner at work, and I skipped breakfast to be inducted into the Guild. My stomach was ready to eat itself from the inside out if I didn’t put something in it. But I couldn’t show weakness in front of them. I didn’t want to give them any ammunition to use against me.
“Thirsty?” he tried again, holding up an energy drink I recognized. The logo taunted me, flashing in the sunbeams filtering in from the kitchen. Reminding me I was too exhausted to stay awake on my own.
I decided to take this offering, if only for my own well-being.
I got up, my legs a little wobbly and stiff as the blood rushed back down my veins and woke my sleeping feet up. “Fuck,” I swore, damn near tripping on my way to the couch, the feeling not quite back entirely in my strangled limbs.
Coyote reached out and effortlessly caught my arm in his grip, keeping me upright despite the exhaustion that swamped me all at once. With his help, I settled on the couch, irritated at the nearness of his bare torso, all too aware of the scent that clung to his body and teased my nostrils.
Fuck, he smelled like earth and pine and leather. Like he walked straight out of the forest a minute ago.
I wanted to lean in and inhale him, get high on his scent.
Something was really, really wrong with my brain right now. Clearly, I needed sleep.
“Do you guys work at night or in the daytime?” I asked as he cracked a can and handed it to me, his eyes watching me, always watching, like some kind of sentinel.
“Both.” His eyes never left me as he cracked his own can and took a huge swig. “Why?”
I countered his question with another question, suddenly more curious about him than I had any business being. “Why did you bring me food and drink? You could have just taken it and gone back to your room.” I frowned, realizing he’d had the perfect opportunity to steal his freedom back, and he hadn’t taken it. “You could have killed me before I even realized you were in the same room. I was asleep. Why didn’t you?”
He simply shrugged, like that was the end of it. Like there was no explanation for what he’d done, beyond it was what he should do. But our situation was far from ideal. So why the kindness? I certainly hadn’t shown him any.
There were a lot of questions on the tip of my tongue, but I fought the urge to ask them, knowing instinctively that I wouldn’t get the answers I was looking for from him. Instead, I set the pistol down on my lap and stretched my arms, hoping the action would restore the blood flow to the rest of my body and wake me up a bit.
Instead, it just made me more aware of how tired I was. How utterly exhausting torturing three grown men was.
And that was without even thinking about the energy that the three orgasms they wrung from me had consumed.
“You need to sleep,” he said pointedly, his hand reaching toward my lap.
I panicked and grabbed for the gun, missing by a mile. Instead, I shoved his hand into my fucking crotch, his fingers dangerously close to the hem of my skirt. With a squeal of shock, I turned him loose and snatched the gun up, pointing it in his direction.
“Not smooth enough, buddy,” I snapped, blood racing through my veins. “But I’ll give you an A for effort. ”
He just shook his head and turned away, a blush creeping up the side of his neck, tinting the tops of his ears red as a tomato. Poor bastard was embarrassed. Of course, I would be, too, if I failed so spectacularly at disarming a drowsy opponent.
His lips twitched as he fought a smile, leaning back into the cushions of the couch as he yet again offered me the bag of popcorn.
This time, I reached into the bag and pulled out a few kernels, munching on them to keep myself awake.
The whole time, completely, unnervingly aware that the Neon Dog sitting beside me had his eyes on me, like he was waiting for me to do something.
So soft. So fucking soft. Like sleeping on a goddamned cloud.
I snapped awake with a jolt, my whole body tense and on edge as I realized I was no longer on the couch, munching popcorn and sipping an energy drink. No, instead, I was in the middle of someone’s bed, bathed in darkness thanks to the blackout curtains hanging over the window I could just barely make out the outline of on the far wall. I had no idea what time it was or where I was, and in a panic, my hand darted out, searching for something to turn into a weapon.
And landed on my still-loaded gun, the safety conveniently on.
Confused, I checked the chamber—there was still a round loaded. The clip was still full, too. How odd.
“You’re awake,” said a voice originating from somewhere in the corner of the room. I blinked slowly, my eyes adjusting to the lack of light, and spotted what I assumed was Coyote standing against the wall, his arms crossed leisurely, a mask of indifference on his face as he observed me .
“Did you bring me in here? Is this your room?” I looked around, trying to reconcile the man with his quarters.
If this was his room, it was impossible to comprehend. The walls were a faint blue all the way around, with the one containing the window a dark blue the color of the bottom of the ocean, where barely any light reached. Hanging from hooks were various odds and ends, from a cheap roadside dreamcatcher, the feathers old and faded, to a poster of some popular band that was so obscure I didn’t think I’d ever meet someone else who liked their music. Amid all that were pictures, some obviously ten or more years old, the Polaroid film peeling back from the edges, giving away their age.
And the bed I lay in was filled with pillows, a huge, fluffy blanket, and a hand-knitted blanket that reminded me of a sunset in the summertime. But it was the book on the nightstand that really gave it away. I caught a glimpse of the cover, the gold filigree spelling out a familiar writer’s name—Shakespeare.
“This is your room,” I said slowly, confident I was right this time. “Did you bring me in here?”
Of course he brought you in here, you moron. How else do you think you got in here? Sleepwalked?
“Mmm,” he hummed, his lips pressed together as he moved closer, stalking back and forth instead of taking a straight line, reminding me of a wolf in the wilderness sizing up its prey.
“You didn’t take my gun.” I was having a hard time believing this was real. This was three times now he could have done something, taken the control back from me, and yet he’d chosen not to. It left me with more mixed feelings I didn’t like. “You didn’t kill me.”
His nod was so simple, so point-blank, to the point, I had a hard time coming up with anything else to say. It was day and night, the way I expected a man in his position to act, and the way he presented himself. There was no rhyme or reason to it. None of it made sense .
“Are the others awake?”
He shook his head, a soft smile on his lips. “Not yet.”
Not yet. That meant it wouldn’t be long until they were. That meant I had time to get back out there and save some face. They’d never know I hadn’t stayed up all night, guarding my new territory.
I glanced down at my disheveled clothes and grimaced. Well, fuck. I’d have to change into something new, but with no clothes here, leaving without taking the Neon Dogs with me felt dangerous. I couldn’t run the risk of them talking to someone and outing me as an imposter.
“Go wake them. I need to pay a visit to my house, and I’m taking you three with me.”
Coyote trotted off like a loyal hound, his fist finding the doors of his partners in crime as I straightened my skirt and settled back down in the chair he’d returned to its original place beside the couch.
About an hour later, Jackal and Dingo were dressed and waiting, both grumbling about their lost sleep as Coyote strode into the living room wearing a black leather jacket, a second one thrown casually over his shoulder as he approached me.
“It’s cold,” he said simply, throwing the coat around me despite my protests.
I felt like a child again as his long fingers zipped up the too-large leather monstrosity, hesitating as they trailed over my chest and stopped just beneath my chin. A soft noise slipped from between his lips that I could have sworn was a pleased hum as he admired his work, tugging on the sleeves for a second before he released me. I shifted anxiously in place, reaching for the gun tucked in the waistband of my skirt. It fit perfectly in the inside pocket of the jacket, and with a satisfied smirk, I switched its location and stuck my arms back in the sleeves, waiting for someone to say something.
“Aww, look, only a day in, and that poor dog is already whipped for her,” Dingo sassed, his eyes rolling sarcastically. “You gonna let her put you on a leash next, Coyote?”
His answering growl silenced any more mockery from his friend.
“Why do we have to escort you to your home?” Jackal groused, tousling his sleep-mussed hair to make it lay in the direction he wanted. “One of us could go, and the other two could stay here and sleep.” His eyes fell on Coyote, and a slow grin spread across his lips. “Look, he’ll take you. And that means Dingo and I can sleep.”
My death glare stopped him in his tracks. “I can’t trust you out of my sight yet, so you’re coming with me.”
“Whatever you say, boss.” His mock salute made me want to smack him, but I refrained, to my endless surprise.
And just like that, he set the tone for the whole day.
And quite possibly the rest of their lives.