Chapter 11
B reakfast wound down eventually, though the brothers showed no signs of leaving for whatever jobs required tactical gear and designer suits. I’d migrated to their obscenely comfortable living room, trying to look casual while being hyperaware of my bare legs and Caleb’s oversized shirt.
The brothers followed, because of course they did. They moved like satellites, maintaining a careful orbit that somehow always kept me at the center. Marcus claimed an armchair with the authority of someone used to commanding rooms. Derek lounged against the fireplace with deceptive casualness, while Caleb sprawled on the other end of my couch, somehow making the distance between us feel intimate.
I tucked my legs under me, tugging the shirt down. “Don’t you guys have, you know, work? Lives? Hobbies that don’t involve watching half-naked strangers eat breakfast?”
“We work from home today,” Marcus said smoothly, at the exact moment Caleb blurted, “Nope, clear schedule,” and Derek added gruffly, “Called in a professional plumber. They’ll be at your place this afternoon to check the pipes.”
Right. Totally normal.
A woman in her fifties entered, radiating the kind of no-nonsense energy that probably kept this massive house running.
“ Tía (aunt) Maria,” Marcus introduced, his tone softening with familial affection. “Our Spanish great-aunt. Tía Maria, this is Kai.”
Maria took one look at me drowning in Caleb’s shirt and clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “Too big, much too big,” she muttered, her accent thick with motherly concern. “My Miguel, he’s closer to your size. My son, he works as our groundskeeper, such a good boy. Wait here, carino (darling).”
Before I could protest, she bustled off.
I caught the brothers exchanging loaded glances, some silent conversation passing between them that made Marcus’ jaw tighten and Derek’s eyes narrow. Caleb just grinned, looking far too pleased with himself. Great. More weird Stone brother dynamics I didn’t want to analyze.
Maria returned with a bundle of clothes that looked blessedly close to my size. Finally, salvation from this endless parade of indecent exposure. I clutched the bundle to my chest, genuinely grateful. “Thank you. Really. You have no idea how much I appreciate this.”
She patted my cheek with motherly affection. “Guest room upstairs, first door on right. Can’t miss it.” Her eyes narrowed with the determination only a Spanish mother could muster. “And you’ll stay for lunch and dinner, sí ? Jorge will make his famous paella —best this side of Valencia. Too skinny, you are. Need feeding up.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but she was already turning to the brothers. “Jorge will make extra tapas too. The gambas al ajillo , maybe some patatas bravas …” She clicked her tongue, muttering in rapid Spanish that had Caleb hiding a grin and Marcus nodding approvingly.
“Guest room upstairs, first door on right,” she repeated firmly, brooking no argument about the meals. “Can’t miss it.”
I blinked, a little stunned by the whirlwind that was Maria. One minute I’m borrowing a shower, the next I’m apparently staying for multiple meals with three guys who looked at me like I was the main course. And their Spanish great-aunt had just steamrolled over any protests with the practiced ease of someone used to getting her way. Was everyone in Cedar Grove this… intense?
Now came the tricky part: getting up from this absurdly deep couch without giving the brothers an impromptu show. They were still watching, their attention somehow even more intense than before. I could have sworn Derek actually leaned forward slightly.
I tried for dignity. Really, I did. Keeping the shirt pulled down with one hand while balancing the clothes with the other, I attempted to gracefully rise from the couch.
Caleb’s sudden intake of breath suggested I might not have been entirely successful. Marcus’ eyes had darkened to something dangerous, and Derek… was definitely not looking at my face.
“Right! Upstairs! Clothes!” My voice hit an octave I didn’t know I possessed. “Thanks again, Maria!”
I practically bolted for the stairs, feeling their heated gazes following every step. Behind me, I heard what sounded suspiciously like someone being smacked, followed by Caleb’s muffled “Ow!” and Maria’s stern “Behave!”
The Stone manor was a maze of elegant hallways and identical doors, each corridor somehow grander than the last. I wandered through what had to be the east wing, based on the tower I’d glimpsed outside, trying to remember Maria’s directions. First door on the right… but from where? The central great hall? The main staircase? Every time I thought I was getting my bearings, another hallway branched off, lined with more closed doors and priceless artwork.
I passed a formal library, with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled with ancient-looking volumes, and what looked like a sophisticated conference room behind glass doors. Finally, a promising door—this had to be the guest room Maria mentioned. Though why did my scar start tingling again as I reached for the handle?
I pushed it open and stepped inside. The space was massive, dominated by a four-poster bed draped in charcoal silk. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered stunning forest views, and everything screamed quiet luxury and absolute power. A leather-bound book sat on the nightstand, its spine embossed with what looked like ancient symbols.
“Fancy guest room,” I muttered, setting Maria’s clothes on a leather bench. At least I could change in privacy. I started peeling off Caleb’s oversized shirt, the borrowed underwear following, and was just reaching for the fresh clothes when I heard it.
A low ‘woof’ from an attached room I hadn’t noticed.
I turned slowly, praying I was wrong. I wasn’t.
Three pairs of intelligent eyes watched me from the shadows—amber, silver, and gold. The… things… were massive. Wolf-massive. The kind of massive that featured in documentaries about prehistoric predators. The largest had pitch-black fur and moved with regal grace. The silver-gray one beside it had the precise, controlled movements of a military operative. And the golden-brown one… was already wagging its tail like this was about to be the best game ever.
“Nice… doggies?” My voice cracked embarrassingly high. “Good ancient wolves definitely not stolen from Jurassic World ?”
The black one—clearly the alpha of this little pack—tilted its head. The gray one’s muscles bunched like it was calculating trajectories. And the golden one…
“No, no, no!” I yelped as it bounded forward, tail wagging like a furry metronome of doom. “Stay! Sit! Play dead! SERIOUSLY, PLEASE PLAY DEAD!”
Childhood terror roared to life. The scar on my hip burned with phantom pain as memories of snapping teeth and terrified screams flooded back. I bolted around the room, knocking over what was probably an expensive vase. “This isn’t a game of tag! This isn’t even a game! This is psychological warfare!”
The golden one thought this was hilarious. The gray one circled left while the black one moved right. They were actually coordinating! What kind of tactically trained wolf-beasts were these?
“I’ve seen this movie!” I grabbed pillows like shields. “The velociraptors hunt in packs! Not that you’re velociraptors. You’re clearly dire wolves. Which is NOT BETTER!”
I dove across the bed, silk sheets flying in my wake. The golden one bounded after me, actually playing in the billowing fabric while its packmates maintained their flanking positions.
“I am NOT playing Red Riding Hood!” I scrambled onto a leather armchair, brandishing a pillow in each hand and a third clutched between my legs for crucial coverage. “Back! Back, I say! I have… expensive pillows and I’m not afraid to use them!”
I clutched my makeshift shields tighter—a heavy burgundy velvet between my legs that was getting intimate with parts of me I’d rather not think about, a silk-covered one pressed tight against my chest, and another held out like a warrior’s shield. The expensive fabrics absorbed my panicked sweat, and other reactions I was definitely not acknowledging, as I tried to maintain some dignity.
“I am a pillow ninja!” I declared, wielding my soft weapons. “Fear my decorative might!”
The black one actually seemed to smirk as I shuffled sideways, the pillow between my legs dragging against sensitive areas with each movement. The golden-brown one bounded around, treating my defensive maneuvers like a game, while the gray one maintained his tactical position with military precision.
“These are thousand-dollar pillows!” I wasn’t sure if that was true, but everything in this house screamed ‘if you have to ask, you can’t afford it.’ “I will not hesitate to use them!”
I spun, trying to keep all three wolves in view, which meant a lot of… friction… with my impromptu coverage. The velvet pillow was getting more action than I’d had in months. Not that I was thinking about that. Or about how the silk one against my chest was making my nipples tingle with each movement.
“Stay back!” I brandished my silk shield, trying to ignore how my body was reacting to all this… movement. “I mean it! I’ve seen Dances with Wolves ! I know how this ends!”
But my threats fell on deaf ears—or maybe amused ones, given how the black one sat regally, watching my panic with what looked suspiciously like amusement. The gray one’s muscles tensed, and oh God, was that an actual military-style head signal to its packmates?
“Don’t you dare—” I didn’t finish before the golden one pounced, sending me tumbling backward. The gray one darted in from the left while the black one calmly cut off my escape route.
I screamed this time. “Smart puppy!” might have escaped my lips, followed by a desperate “Go faster, GO FASTER!” and possibly a shrieked “SOMEBODY HELP!” though there wasn’t actually anyone around to help anything. All my dignity was officially extinct, just like my chances of surviving this wolf-dog ambush.
The bedroom door burst open. Marcus stood there, took one look at the scene—me, naked and cornered by three massive wolf-dogs, clutching designer pillows while wrapped in shredded silk sheets—and his eyes flashed red.
I didn’t think. I just launched myself at him, pillows forgotten, sheets trailing behind me like a makeshift toga. My legs wrapped around his waist, arms locked around his neck, pressing every naked inch of myself against the fine wool of his suit as I pointed back toward the chaos. “Wolves! You have WOLVES in here! Actual, coordinated, tactical assault wolves!”
Strong hands caught me instinctively, sliding down to support my weight. They settled on my lower back, dangerously close to… other areas.
Thundering footsteps announced the arrival of Derek and Caleb, both freezing at the sight of me koala-clinging to their brother, trailing silk sheets like some kind of terrified Greek god.
“Shadow, Storm, and Scout?” Derek managed, though his voice had gone rough. “They’re harmless.”
“Harmless?” I buried my face in Marcus’ neck, trying not to think about how good he smelled. “That’s not a dog pack; that’s the elite special forces of the canine world! Did you steal them from a military experiment? Are they secretly supernatural? Because I swear the black one was plotting geometric vectors of attack!”
“I can take him,” Derek offered, stepping forward with his arms out. “Military training. Used to carrying heavy loads.”
“He seems fine where he is.” Marcus’ grip tightened possessively, hands sliding lower on my bare skin.
“Does he?” Caleb’s voice dripped innocence. “Because I could—”
Twin growls cut him off. And they definitely weren’t from the wolves.
I snuck a glance behind me. The three beasts sat in perfect formation in the room, looking far too pleased with themselves. The golden one actually had a pillow tassel hanging from its mouth, tail still wagging like this was the best game ever. The black one maintained its regal posture—and I swear it was smirking—while the gray one sat at perfect military attention like this had been a planned operation all along.
“Shouldn’t someone be dealing with the actual wolf situation?” I squeaked, very aware of how naked I was and how three pairs of heated human eyes were focused on me instead of their tactical assault pets.
“Shadow, Storm, Scout,” Marcus commanded, but the playful golden one just wagged his tail harder while the black and gray beasts remained in their dignified positions, all three clearly enjoying the chaos they’d created. “Down.”
“I’m not moving until those beasts are gone,” I declared into Marcus’ collar. Then I realized I was still very naked and lodged very intimately against him. Every breath pressed bare skin against expensive wool. “Um. Could you… there’s a sheet over there.” I pointed weakly toward the destroyed bed. “Maybe if you just…”
“Of course,” Marcus purred, and dear God, his voice shouldn’t sound that good. He moved toward the bed, my body still wrapped around him like a particularly naked koala.
“Little to the left,” I directed, trying to maintain some dignity while basically using Marcus as a human climbing wall. “Now bend—no, not that much! Just… there!”
I stretched out one arm, still clinging desperately with the other, and managed to snag a trailing edge of silk. The movement pressed me even closer to Marcus, if that was possible. With some awkward wiggling that definitely didn’t make all three brothers growl, I managed to wrap the sheet around my waist.
“Storm, Scout, kitchen,” Derek finally called, his voice rough. The gray and golden wolves looked disappointed but obeyed, padding toward the door.
“Shadow,” Marcus rumbled, and the black wolf finally followed its packmates, though not without what looked suspiciously like an eye roll.
Maria appeared, took one look at the scene—me wrapped in silk and still clinging to Marcus while his brothers hovered possessively—and muttered something in rapid Spanish, her head shake suggesting this wasn’t the first time she’d dealt with such chaos.
“Come,” she commanded with motherly authority. “Leave the poor boy alone. Though really,” she added under her breath as she herded the wolf-dogs away, “with those three, the dogs are the least of his problems.”
The beasts bounded after her, leaving me with a new problem. Three very attractive, very intense problems who seemed more interested in who got to hold me than in my current state of semi-undress.
“Okay,” I breathed. “I can get down now.”
Except… I couldn’t. My body absolutely refused to unlock itself from around Marcus. My arms and legs might as well have been welded in place. What the actual hell?
“Need help,” Caleb purred, and holy hell, when did he get so close?
“No!” I tried again to make my limbs cooperate. They betrayed me thoroughly. “Maybe. I seem to be… stuck?”
Derek moved too, boxing me in from behind. “Military training,” he rumbled against my ear. “Very good at… handling delicate situations.”
My breath hitched. This was… this was…
Finally, whatever weird paralysis had gripped me released its hold. I practically fell backward, saved only by Derek’s quick reflexes.
“Careful, little mate,” he murmured, and why did that word make my stomach flip?
I scrambled away from all three of them, clutching my sheet like armor. “Right! Clothes! Those should happen! In private! Very private!”
“We could—” Caleb started.
“No,” Marcus cut him off, though his eyes never left me. “Let him dress.” It sounded like the words physically pained him.
They filed out, movements reluctant, gazes heated. The door clicked shut behind them, though I could have sworn I heard a brief scuffle in the hallway.
I collapsed against the nearest wall, heart racing. What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I let go? Why did I still feel phantom heat where Marcus’ hands had been?
“So…” I muttered to myself, surveying the destruction around me. “This is not actually the guest room, is it?”
The empty room didn’t answer, but somewhere down the hall, three distinct laughs echoed. Marcus’ deep rumble, Derek’s rough chuckle, and Caleb’s playful snicker blended together, letting me know they’d heard my question. And no, this was not the guest room—the massive four-poster bed, the expensive furnishings, the personal touches… I was standing in someone’s bedroom. Probably Marcus’, given how the whole space radiated authority and power.
“Great,” I groaned, clutching the silk sheet tighter. “Just great. Not only did I strip naked in someone’s personal bedroom, but I managed to destroy it while running from their pet wolves. Perfect. Totally perfect.”
More laughter drifted through the door, darker and more promising this time, doing things to parts of me that were currently barely covered by silk.
“Right. Clothes. Focus on clothes, Kai,” I muttered to myself, grabbing Maria’s bundle and trying very hard not to think about three sets of heated eyes and what they’d just witnessed. Or about how I’d managed to destroy someone’s bedroom while running naked from their pets. Or about… any of it, really.
Finally, I got dressed in Miguel’s borrowed clothes—dark slim jeans that actually fit and a soft gray t-shirt with an adorable cartoon wolf reading a book—seriously? The clothes made me look even smaller somehow, which I didn’t think was possible. At least they were comfortable, even if the shirt felt like some kind of cosmic joke.
I cracked open the door and nearly jumped out of my skin. Marcus lounged against the opposite wall, all casual power in his perfectly tailored suit.
“Getting lost is a time-honored tradition in Stone Manor,” he said, lips quirking. “Though most guests stick to the actual guest wing.”
“In my defense, your house is basically a labyrinth.” I stepped into the hallway, trying not to feel self-conscious in borrowed clothes. “Do you have a ball of string I can use to find my way back? Or maybe a GPS app specifically for unnecessarily huge houses?”
“The manor has been expanding since 1667.” Marcus fell into step beside me, his long strides somehow matching my shorter ones perfectly. “Though I believe the getting-lost record is still held by a visiting businessman who spent three days trying to find the kitchen.”
“Three days? What, did he just… hibernate in one of the fifty spare bedrooms?”
“Actually, he found shelter in the—” Marcus stopped, something flickering in his eyes. “You’re being sarcastic.”
“No, really? What gave it away? My naturally serious demeanor?” I deadpanned.
That earned me an actual laugh, deep and rich. The sound did weird things to my stomach that I refused to analyze.
Back in the living room, Derek and Caleb looked far too comfortable for men who should be at work. I sank into the obscenely comfortable couch, eyeing the three brothers who seemed way too content to just… watch me exist.
“You know, most people would find this level of intense staring weird, but you guys somehow make it look like a luxury fashion campaign. You really have the whole brooding-but-beautiful thing down to an art form, don’t you?”
A familiar ‘woof’ made me freeze. The golden-brown beast—Scout?—from earlier bounded into the room, tail wagging like a furry metronome of doom.
“Nope!” I practically levitated behind Marcus’ chair. “We are NOT doing the chase scene again!”
The black one—Shadow?—padded in with regal grace, and I swear he was smirking. The gray one—Storm?—took up what looked suspiciously like a tactical position near the doorway.
“They won’t hurt you,” Marcus said, amusement coloring his voice as I used him as a human shield.
“Tell that to your pillows,” I muttered, eyeing Scout’s wagging tail with suspicion. “I’ve seen how they ‘play.’”
“Storm, Scout, Shadow,” Derek commanded. “Out.”
The beasts actually listened this time, though Scout gave me one last hopeful look that definitely didn’t make me clutch Marcus’ shoulders tighter.
“They really like you,” Caleb observed, grinning.
“Yeah, like a chew toy,” I grumbled, finally releasing my death grip on Marcus and collapsing back onto the couch.
Marcus’ phone buzzed. He glanced at it, jaw tightening slightly. “I need to take this.” He moved to the far corner, his voice a low murmur that somehow made the room feel smaller, more intimate.
Heavy footsteps approached, and a man in tactical gear appeared in the doorway. “Sir,” he addressed Derek in a low voice, but I caught fragments. “…tracks in the north sector… fresh within the hour…”
Derek’s entire demeanor shifted, the casual lounging replaced by coiled tension, his expression thunderous. Without a word, he strode out, the security man falling into step behind him.
“Stay,” he called over his shoulder, like I was going anywhere when this couch was basically holding me hostage with comfort.
Rapid-fire Spanish suddenly erupted from somewhere down the hall. Maria’s voice rose above Jorge’s, something about “proper Spanish hospitality” and “promised him paella.” Jorge fired back about “authentic Greek cuisine” and “already marinating the lamb.”
Marcus, still on his phone, caught Caleb’s eye and jerked his head toward the commotion. Caleb rolled his eyes dramatically but hauled himself up. “The joys of being the family mediator.” He sighed. “Don’t go anywhere, beautiful.”
I curled up in my corner of the couch, pulling the throw blanket around me. The quiet of the room seemed to wrap around me like a second blanket, and Marcus’ voice created a soothing rhythm from the corner—something about quarterly reports and profit margins that should have been boring but instead felt like a lullaby.
The throw was impossibly soft against my skin, and the cushions seemed to know exactly how to cradle my tired body. Marcus’ presence felt like an anchor, keeping the anxiety that had plagued me all week at bay. My eyes grew heavy as his voice washed over me, deep and melodic…
“The projections for third quarter…” Marcus’ words faded into a gentle hum, and I drifted off to the strangest feeling of finally being exactly where I belonged.