CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX – LILY
For someone who often feels like she has limited choices in life, Logan’s challenge sets me back on my heels.
I mean, am I really meant to coordinate the removal of my clothing when they’re both staring at me like that?
It doesn’t help that the thought of Otley tying me to the vanity has sent a delicious shiver racing over my skin, filling the air with the scent of omega arousal.
Logan just cocks a brow at the blush rising on my cheeks, but Otley looks even more agitated than I feel. “You don’t have to undress in front of us, if you don’t want to,” he growls, earning a sneer from my mate. “But if we’re going to scent mark you, it might be easier.”
“Good fucking plan,” Logan grins, his good humor returning as he leans back against the vanity and crosses his long legs. “Have a quick wash, sweetheart, and then we’ll take care of the rest.”
I’d roll my eyes at his arrogance if I wasn’t being subjected to Otley’s unflinching stare. God, the guy could teach thumbtacks a thing or two about impaling things. “Scent mark?” I ask, grimacing at the slight wobble in my voice. “I thought that was just a rut thing.”
“It’s a possession thing,” Logan drawls, folding his arms over his broad chest so that his biceps pop in the most distracting way. “We do it instinctively in our rut, but the urge is always there, especially when an unbonded omega is twitching her ass in our direction.”
I narrow my eyes at him, mimicking his crossed-arm pose. “Ass twitching isn’t really my thing.”
Logan’s eyes sparkle at the bite in my voice. “Believe me, sweetheart, we’re in a much better position to decide that than you are.”
“Ugh!” I throw my hands up, my cheeks painfully red as his chuckle rolls across the room. “Okay, back to scent marking then. What do I need to do?”
At my grumbled question, Otley lurches forward, and I’m suddenly reminded of that moment when the starter’s gun went off during track and field events in high school.
He covers the distance between us in two strides, his nose dipping to the scent gland on my throat.
He draws in a breath, holding it for a beat, before sliding up to the soft hairs at my temple.
He continues the journey down the opposite side, then pulls something from his pocket.
I try to look down to see what it is, but he places a finger under my chin, arching my neck back until my throat is fully exposed.
I swallow against the stretch, and as his nose roams up and down the cords of my neck, his fingers brush the soft skin behind my ears.
My first thought is that he’s dabbing some of his cologne on me, but the smell reminds me of old pennies, and Logan coughs out a laugh. “That’s some old school moves, bud.”
I tilt my head to look at my mate. “What do you mean?”
Logan steps up beside me, a small smirk on his lips as his thumb presses into his mating mark.
“When alphas used to meet an omega they wanted to bite, they'd test the waters with a drop of their blood on their pulse points. It warmed the omega up to the idea of mating bites, but it also warned off any other alphas who might be circling.”
I glance down to see a small gold pin gleaming in Otley’s hand. It’s a lot prettier than a thumb tack, but painfully sharp all the same. “You pricked yourself so you could put blood behind my ears?”
I guess my voice sounds a little unhinged, because Otley quickly pockets the pin. “It’s just a drop.”
Just a drop? His scent seems to be twice as strong now; those pennies dipped in a rich cherry sauce.
It makes my belly clench, but I’m not sure how I feel about being marked in blood.
My momma’s instincts are telling me it’s unhygienic, but it’s also proof of Otley’s commitment, and my primal brain likes that. A lot.
“You know,” I say slowly, “you could just kiss me. I mean, a hickey probably lasts longer than a little smear of blood.”
Otley goes still, but Logan’s smirk just grows until I can see a whole bunch of his teeth gleaming in my direction. “Are you asking him for a love bite, LeeLee?”
I flush at his teasing, but what if I am? Otley said he wants to take care of me, and after the run-in with that asshole of a reporter, I could do with a nice distraction. “Sure. I like kisses.”
“Plural,” Logan smirks, leaning down to press his lips against mine. I moan softly as his tongue slides against my seam, but then he pulls back with a grunt. “Let’s get you cleaned up first, and then you can have all the kisses you want.”
“Cleaned up?” It takes my dazed senses a moment to realize he means the other alpha’s scent. A grim note has entered Logan’s voice and Otley is staring at my arm like he wants to detach it from the rest of my body. “Hey, it’s not that bad, guys.”
Otley’s gaze is cold steel behind his glasses. “Restraining someone to the point of bruising is both careless and cruel.”
I agree, but as much as the reporter’s manhandling pissed me off, it doesn’t really hurt.
I’m about to tell them that when Otley gently cradles my arm between his hands, and the words fade from my lips.
I’m not sure what he’s planning to do about my perceived injury, but Logan passes him a damp washcloth and there’s not a sound in the room as he methodically dabs at the slightly bruised flesh.
When he’s done, he turns my arm over and presses a soft kiss to my wrist. I know he can feel my pulse hammering under the skin, but he doesn’t say a word as he trails his lips up my forearm and presses a kiss to the bend of my elbow.
When he’s done, he gently releases my arm and starts the process again on my other wrist.
I realize I’m still standing there fully clothed.
My lips, at this point, are also untouched by Otley.
Instead, he works around my shirt and jeans to press his mouth to every throbbing pulse point on my body.
He even drops to his knees to remove my socks and sneakers.
He’s a picture of intense focus as he kisses the ankle bones on the top of my feet, but when he tries to roll my jeans up, the tight fabric snags on my calves.
“Let me help you out,” Logan purrs, popping the button on my jeans and easing them down my thighs.
Otley sits back on his heels and watches, the heat under my skin racing towards boiling point as he studies my exposed skin.
He doesn’t touch me, even though I know they can both smell my arousal in the air.
But I’m guessing Logan can also feel the tremble in my limbs, because he steps behind me, wrapping an arm around my waist and taking some of my weight off my liquid knees.
It should not be an erotic experience – Logan holding me up while Otley’s cool lips press a kiss to the back of my knees- but try telling that to my slick panties.
I try to remind myself that he’s already knotted me, but soft panting sounds keep leaving my parted lips.
They grow shorter and louder as Otley rises on his knees, his mouth brushing my thigh before settling in the crease of my groin.
Femoral artery, I think dazedly as he lingers there, his warm breath fanning over my sensitive skin.
Just the slightest turn of his head, and his mouth would be right on my slick panties…
My moan sounds more like a whimper when he drifts past it to place another careful kiss in the matching crease.
I’m pretty sure I’m pouting as he rises gracefully to his feet.
He’s close enough for our chests to brush, but he maintains a sliver of distance.
When he cups my face in both of his hands, I’m definitely pouting.
But instead of focusing on my lips, he brushes his mouth over the flushed skin of my temples.
My entire body is now one overheated, thrumming pulse, and I gape at him as he finally takes a step back.
“Just in case you were wondering, that was old school worship,” Logan says softly in my ear as he nuzzles my throat. “No one who scents you now will be confused as to how much you’re adored.”
Despite the frustration in my core, wings flutter under my skin, my bare toes curling on the bathroom mat. I have to admit, I thought this whole scent marking thing would be a little more physical, but the tenderness in Otley’s touch suddenly feels a thousand times more intimate than an orgasm.
“Am I marked now?”
“Not quite,” Otley replies, and I gasp as he tilts my chin and places a soft-mouthed kiss over the scent gland on my throat. I know he can feel Logan’s teeth marks on the raised skin, and the fact that he’s so comfortable to trace it with his lips sends a double shudder through my body.
What would it be like to have both these alphas worshipping me at once?
When Otley finally draws back, Logan takes an exaggerated sniff. “Yep, now you definitely reek of us,” he confirms with a dark chuckle. “But we should probably mark you on the inside later, just to make sure.”
Oh. My. God.
Is spontaneous combustion really a thing?
Words fail me – for obvious reasons – but after my heartbeat returns to something close to normal, we head downstairs to check on Leo and Catherine.
Ellis’ mom is asleep in one of the guest rooms, but everyone else is gathered in the living room, a disjointed picture of the Rocky Mountains scattered over the coffee table.
I’m guessing the scent marking must have worked, because Rosie looks up from the puzzle pieces and waggles her brows at me.
“Ah, the sweet scent of possessive alpha!” she quips, earning a cough of amusement from Doc.
“I have no idea what you mean,” I tell her, my cheeks blazing as I bend to kiss Leo on the head. His cheek, I notice, is nearly completely healed, and he has brushed his hair to look a lot like Bobby’s haystack style. “How are things going, hun?”
“Great!” he chirps, green eyes sparkling. “Grammy and Doc are going to visit a hot spring tomorrow, and they said I could come.”