Chapter 19 Graham
Graham
“No.”
“No?” Willow sputters. “You're my bodyguards, not my alphas. You can't stop me.”
Hunter cracks his knuckles, his brow lifting in silent challenge.
“I'm meeting Landon. Alone. I don't need my babysitters tagging along. Watch the entrance if you want, but none of you are going into that restaurant.”
“Peaches,” Carson practically croons. “He hurt you. All three of us saw what he did to you, and I’m sure that’s not even the worst of it. You don’t want to put yourself in that situation again.”
She sighs, crossing her arms. “I'm not going to fall for him.”
The shift in her scent tells me she’s lying—if not to us, then to herself. She still loves him. She might not want to, might not ever admit it, but whatever pull that’s between them? It’s still there.
This dinner is a bad fucking idea.
“You’re right,” Hunter says as he mirrors her posture. “Because I’ll be right there next to you. Hard to get romantic with me stopping that shit.”
Willow growls, and Carson’s smirk deepens. He loves this. Poking her, pushing her buttons, watching her fight back. Honestly? I like it, too. I just don’t have a goddamn death wish like he does.
She steps forward, getting right into Hunter’s space, tipping her chin up in challenge. “If you think you can tell me what to do, you’re sadly mistaken.”
Hunter doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. Then, he closes the distance, tilting her chin up with two fingers.
“If you think I’m going to let you walk into that restaurant to face the alpha who hurt you alone,” he murmurs, “you’re sadly mistaken.”
She sucks in a breath and her scent changes; sweet peaches, thick and heavy, warm with vanilla.
It hits all of us at once.
My jaw clenches. Fuck.
Carson shifts slightly beside me, barely a movement, while Hunter’s musk reacts, his butter pecan curling into her scent, blending. He lets out a little growl.
My jeans suddenly feel too tight. I shift my stance to relieve some pressure. Thank God for blockers. If I wasn’t wearing them, my musk would be in that mix too—brown sugar and coffee sinking into all that peaches and cream sweetness, and that would be a fucking problem.
Hunter’s grip tightens just a fraction, his thumb brushing along the curve of her jaw. A slow, deliberate touch. Willow doesn’t pull away, and I half expect him to kiss her again.
Her pulse is pounding, I can see it from here. And none of us move. The air is thick with unsaid words.
Hunter finally steps back, just enough to give her space, but the damage is already done. She might be going to meet Landon. But she’s not just thinking about him anymore, she’s thinking about us.
Within seconds, she pretends it didn’t happen. Doesn’t react or acknowledge the heat still clinging to the air, or the way her perfume is still thick enough to drive any alpha insane. I’m pretty sure I’m already halfway there.
She skirts around Hunter as if he isn’t even there, like that single touch didn’t just lay down the law, and slips down the hall without looking back. Pretending she wasn’t just making her panties wet with the thought of the three of us acting on our instincts.
Carson lets out a low whistle. “That was—”
“A problem,” I cut in, turning my head to slowly look at Hunter. “This is a job, keep your fucking head on right.” The words come out biting, but I’m sure they know they are as much for me as they are for him.
Hunter exhales slowly, raking a hand through his hair. His expression is unreadable, but I can see it—the tightness in his shoulders, the flex in his jaw, the way his hands curl into loose fists. He is close to losing the battle.
Carson rocks back on his heels, smirking again. “You mean to tell me you don’t like our little omega all riled up?”
Hunter sends him a look that could kill. Carson just laughs and sinks into the armchair.
“She’s going to push every single button we have,” I mutter, dragging a hand down my face. “And we’re supposed to be protecting her, not—”
“Not wanting to find out just how much further we can push her?” Carson cuts in smoothly.
Hunter stalks past both of us, muscles tense, his whole body radiating frustration.
“Get your shit together,” he bites out before disappearing out the apartment door.
Carson shakes his head, muttering under his breath. “He’s already gone for her, obviously. But then, we all are.”