Chapter 35
CHAPTER
THIRTY-FIVE
Killian
E mmie screams out a giggle of glee as she races into the room, her owl banging into stools and chairs.
It’s almost been a week. Emmie and Freya have enjoyed a lot of random outings during it, for obvious reason. Today, it’s early, but the hour doesn’t bother me or Xavier, who’s at the door, antsy.
“You see something?” I ask.
His glance hits me and he shakes his head. Just thinking about going for a short walk, take in the morning.
He doesn’t show it, but I see it. He’s expecting trouble, or wanting to look out for it. Sometimes they’re the same. Catch it early and squash it.
I’d fucking love to say it’s a normal part of our lives. Trouble is a normal part. His angst is not.
Xavier’s always calm, stoic, a brick wall or a mountain. He’s ready for anything.
Seems the brat’s got him caught tight. As for me…
Shit. Maybe I’m a little enamored, too. After all, we both claimed her.
I’m not sure I’ve reacted to a woman like that before. Not even Emmie’s mother. The frenetic energy was something new.
Iris is a different breed.
And I’m fucking aware that as much as we marked her as ours, she isn’t.
How can she be, when things are the way they are here in Sabine?
I don’t like rules, follow them even less.
And if Emmie wasn’t a consideration, I’d announce that claiming, ignore the bullshit that makes up this society, and take her as ours.
But fantasy isn’t reality.
Our rebellion hasn’t even gotten off the ground.
Xavier turns a moment from the small window he’s exposed, the wooden shutter drawn back on the door as Emmie lets out a wild shriek. “Icy! Lookit! Papa made this!”
She streaks across the floor, poor Delores bearing the brunt of it as she launches at Iris who just entered the room in jeans and a top from the pile of Freya’s things she left out for Iris upstairs.
There was a dress there, one Freya never uses unless she has some kind of event—something very rare for her. But of course, Iris ignored it.
The fucking girl we need to get back to the Upper Side decided to dress like she belongs here.
Like she knows I’m thinking about her, she gives me a look that’s pure fucking brat, and smiles.
Then she focuses on Emmie. “Papa made you something?”
“Yes, look!” Emmie drags her to one of the booths and shows her the wooden owl Xavier made, after doing some dawn arts and crafts while Iris slept.
Iris’s gaze touches mine once more, then Xavier’s, before admiring the wonky owl with Emmie.
I rub a hand to my chest, as something starts to warm in there.
What do we do? Xavier asks.
When’s the next meeting? I sign, deliberately misunderstanding him. Until we can get a meeting with the Monarch, we have to keep it all contained. Or we could start a bloody revolution.
He frowns. You’re a fucking asshole. I meant our woman.
She isn’t ours , I sign.
We claimed her .
We claimed her.
There’s something powerful, guttural, primal about those words. And the fact she’s sitting there with Emmie, having a great time like it’s a natural role for her, instead of rushing home like she should, makes it more powerful.
Like she wants to belong.
Like she knows she claimed us, too.
I want to break something.
We fucked her and mated, but right now that won’t stand , I sign.
And you’re a card-carrying member of polite society now, are you? He doesn’t give me a chance to respond, just stalks outside.
My gaze travels to our little girl and Iris.
Again, that fucking warmth flares, and I rub my chest. Emmie’s excitedly pushing her coloring book and crayons at Iris, dictating the picture she wants colored in.
With her little tongue sticking out in concentration, Emmie hunkers down to her own side of the page.
A small smile lifts the corner of my mouth. That kid can make sunshine happen anywhere.
We need to work out the best way of getting Iris home. Or to this Pen’s place. It isn’t a job I can send Xav on. He’s too noticeable, especially if one of the belles of the fucking Season’s by his side. And what are we gonna do? Cover her like we’re smuggling her?
I’d do it. I’m able to blend better—a gift or a curse I’m not sure which—but again there’s no way to explain taking Iris anywhere in the middle of the morning.
My phone starts to vibrate, and I suddenly go still. If we take her back tonight, sneak her out…somehow resist temptation…
But her family thinks she’s at this Penrith’s place, waiting out her heat, so if she’s seen with us then not only do we cause scandal but we set back out rebellion.
Or maybe it’s what it needs.
Though it would be at her expense.
I’m thinking in circles and then tangling them in knots. I pull out my phone, take in the blocked number and go to answer, but they hang up.
Freya begins cleaning the bar of dust for tonight’s service, the first since Iris went into heat.
“She shouldn’t be here,” she mutters.
I flick her a glance. “It’s daytime.”
“And when we get a shipment?”
“Of?”
“We get shipments of things outside the booze you pick up. Beer, napkins, olives, citrus.”
I tap a hand on the bar. “Do we have any scheduled?”
“That’s not the point. She makes things more dangerous for everyone.”
“Jealous, Freya?” I ask.
She laughs and shakes her head, setting up her service station.
“You wish. No. I like her, I’m just thinking about Emmie, about us.
This business can be crushed by the Council, and you know it.
Considering the agendas we want to push, the things we all want changed…
tempting fate with someone like her is not smart. ”
“She can help us get the ear of the Monarch and the Council.”
“Not if you’re caught fucking an eligible Omega.”
“No one’s about to put on a live sex show in front of anyone. That kind of shit’s a few street’s over.” But I let my gaze drift back to Iris.
Freya puts down the knife and the lime. “You know we need to get her out of here without being seen.”
“Not your problem.”
But she’s right. I go to Xavier and lean against the wall, gaze drawn back to Iris. Freya’s outfit’s a little tight, her tits push at the T-shirt and like that, even if she was from here, she’d fucking stand out.
“We need to get Iris out of here.”
When? he asks.
When indeed. “Now?—”
Too early. A girl being sneaked out will stand out. I need to pick up some supplies later, a shipment’s coming in, out in Seafare. It’s a small town, rich town, perfect for small illegal contraband that we often drop directly at estates with some wine.
“And who’ll get her from there?”
He sighs. Something can be worked out.
“Iris,” I say as I head over to the table, “a word.”
“But Daddy, we are drawing, see?” Emmie shows me the coloring book, and I hide my smile at the creative work she’s been doing.
“Freya wants to help, and maybe Papa.”
The little girl nods, grabs Delores, the crayons, and book, and heads over to the bar, where Xavier leaves his post to put her in a chair.
“Can’t resist me, is that it?” Iris asks.
A muscle beats in my jaw. She’s hit a little too close, and it makes anger at myself flare.
“Back room, now.”
I don’t wait to see if she’s following. But when I turn, she’s almost on top of me, and I point up the stairs.
“Put the dress on.”
“If you want me to do a strip tease, you only have to ask. But shouldn’t Xavier be here to watch?” Her cheeks are painted in a pink blush and her mouth curves. The dilation of her eyes calls, even as the taunt there strokes hard against my libido.
I take her and push her into the office, and close the door, pushing her against it. “Are you playing with fire?”
She raises her chin. “What are you going to do about it?”
Fuck, this is beyond catnip. It’s dangerous and addictive and she’s hitting all my sweet spots with her little play at being a tease.
It’s pure brat, and I want to bend her over, spank her, then make her crawl to me and suck my cock.
I want to bend her over the table and take her fucking hard so she can’t see straight.
I slide a finger along the curve of her cheek. “This isn’t the time, brat, but trust me, it’ll come. And you won’t be able to sit without thinking of me.”
“Why—”
“Your ass will be so fucking sore, Icy, and you’ll come back, begging for more.”
I lean right in, feather my mouth against hers and then down her throat, aching to sink my teeth into the sweet and tender flesh there.
I grab her and spin her so her face is against the door, her hair in my fist, and I lick the shell of her ear.
And she moans.
I’m about ready to throw caution to the wind and spank her, pull those jeans down and have my way, when my phone starts to buzz again.
I let her go and open the door. “Get changed.”
“But—”
“We have to get you back, so you need to put on a fucking dress. Now.”
She glares and stomps out, and I answer the phone. “Black Briar.”
“Touch one of our Omegas, and we’ll fuck you up.”
The voice growls as whoever it is tries to hide their identity.
It’s enough to kill the boner and I head out of the back and into the bar. “I see, and how are you going to do that?”
There’s silence and the voice suddenly rushes out, “You’ll find out.”
“Fuck with me and you’ll know worlds of pain you can’t possibly imagine.” I keep my voice a low, quiet sound. I hang up.
Shit. Does someone know she’s here?
I stop and take a breath. No, they might not have. After all, Xavier’s saving her from shame and abuse is everywhere, Stitches, whispers, everywhere. It’s the nature of small places.
Let them react to my words if they dare. My threat could be taken as physical, but I’m aware how much pain is caused by cutting off society from our services. And I have done that before.
“Who was that?” Freya asks.
“No one I know.”
She doesn’t move. “And the Omega?”
I look at her mildly. But inside I’m raging. Not at her.
At myself.
At the fucking fact that the marks and mating only complicates our plan of using Iris for the Nightshades. I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking.
I wasn’t thinking. That was the problem. I was only thinking with my dick.
A growl rumbles in my throat. “She goes back as soon as it’s safe to do so.”