Chapter 23 Mo
Mo
Iwake up warm. Sprawled across something solid, my cheek pressed against a heartbeat.
Silas.
We’re still on the couch. His arms are still around me, and we haven’t moved all night.
I ease myself out of his hold, careful not to wake him. He stirs slightly but doesn’t open his eyes. I smile as I look down at him, remembering last night.
Then I catch sight of Darius near the front door. He’s standing very still, his eyes moving between Silas and me.
I wait for the anger, the jealousy, the possessive alpha bullshit. But his expression gives me nothing. He just looks at us for a long moment, then turns away and starts undressing.
His shirt comes off first. Shoulders rolling as he pulls it over his head, the muscles in his back shifting under golden skin.
Look away.
His hands go to his joggers. Thumbs hook into the waistband. He pushes them down, slow, unhurried, like he has all the time in the world and no idea I’m watching.
He has to know I’m watching.
Look. Away.
The joggers hit the floor. He stands there bare, all of him, and my mouth goes so dry I can’t swallow. The V of muscle at his hips cuts sharp lines downward, and I follow them.
I should look away. I know I should look away. But my traitorous eyes are locked on him, drinking in every inch of his sculpted body.
His woodsy, masculine scent is everywhere, and it makes my head swim, and I bite my lip hard enough to taste copper, trying to shut my omega bits down.
I hate him. I hate him because he chained me to a wall and refused to let me shift and called me his property, and right now, in this exact moment, I want to lick every inch of him.
Every. Single. Inch.
Fucking omega urges.
Captive, confused, and borderline horny. Great. Perfect. Love that for me.
He walks to the front door, opens it, and pauses.
The cool air raises goosebumps across his skin.
I watch those too. I wonder if he’s going to say something.
But he doesn’t. He takes one deep breath, nostrils flaring, then shifts.
The enormous black wolf stands tall for a moment, then bounds into the forest.
I’m left with a racing pulse and heat between my thighs.
I need to leave.
Now.
The panic is immediate and visceral. I can’t breathe. Can’t think. All I know is that alphas can’t be trusted, and here I am kissing Silas and getting horny over Darius.
Darius!
I carefully extract myself from Silas’s hold and pad to my bedroom.
I grab my backpack and start shoving clothes into it when Charly catches my eye from the nightstand.
“Don’t start,” I tell him.
The backpack is half-full when I stop. My hands are shaking.
What am I doing?
I sink onto the floor, back against the bed, pack in my lap.
I chose to kiss Silas. And it was good. It was so good that I’m terrified.
Because good things don’t last. Good things get taken away. And if I stay, if I let them in, it’s going to hurt so much worse when it ends.
When. Not if. When.
I sit there for an hour, pack in my lap, trying to decide.
Finally, I unpack. Slowly. Putting each item back where it belongs.
I’m not ready to run yet.
But the pack stays within reach. Just in case.
Fucking. Omega. Urges.
Yep. Definitely blaming the hormones.
I walk back to the living room, and there’s a grumbling sound from the couch. Silas is awake, his dark eyes on me. I wonder how much he saw. His face reveals nothing.
“Morning, big guy,” I say.
He nods. Then he stands, stretches his huge frame, and heads for the kitchen.
Archer and Elias file in and start arguing over the last bagel.
“Morning, Blueberry,” Elias chirps, far too cheerfully. “Sleep well?”
I grunt and pour myself a coffee. The nightmare and panic have faded, pushed back by the warmth of Silas’s arms and the memory of Darius’s golden, sculpted, lickable—nope.
Not finishing that thought. Absolutely not.
“Fuck, you smell good this morning, Blueberry,” Elias continues, leaning closer. “Did you dream about me?”
I flip him off behind my mug.
I can’t seem to shake the image of Darius standing in the doorway, bare and golden, or the feeling of being held in Silas’s arms all night. My body is reacting in ways my brain hasn’t signed off on, and I know it’s only going to get worse.
“I’d like to visit Cassia today,” I say, changing the subject.
Elias steps closer, his voice dropping. “The healer? Why? Are you alright?”
I fight the urge to bare my neck. “I’m fine. Just need to ask her some questions.”
Archer looks up from his coffee. “You sure?”
“I said I’m fine,” I snap, pushing away from the counter. “Don’t you alphas have something better to do than hover?”
Archer studies me for a moment, then nods. “I’ll walk you over.”
I nod and bolt from the kitchen, desperate to get away from their scents. It’s stronger now than they’ve ever been.
All four of them are under my skin now, and I don’t know how to get them out.