35. Lincoln
35
LINCOLN
“ R emind me why we’re doing this again?” I grumble, irritation thick in my throat as Minnie rolls her eyes at me.
The living room in the wolves’ quad is sparse, and the five of us are alone, spread from one end to the other, and I just so happened to get the short straw of dealing with my sister. Which is really no feat at all, but she’s driving me insane right now.
“Because she made Tatum laugh and I want to feel her out before we let her get any closer,” she explains, and I sigh. The second she mentions Tatum, I know there’s no chance in hell we’re getting out of this.
Midnight had me locked in a trance. Polaris, on the other hand…there was something about her I couldn’t put my finger on. I don’t like it, not even a bit, but I think that has more to do with the fact that it does nothing to deter my attraction to her.
“That’s pretty feral,” I mutter, smirking at my sister. There’s no use fighting her on the matter; she always wins. Besides, it’s a good idea. I’m not the only one she seems to have under her spell, and not just Tatum, but Wylder too. At least I can restrain myself.
“You’re welcome,” she preens with a grin, her eyes darting across the room to where the man in question sits hunched over in his seat. “Just don’t tell him; he’ll be sad,” she adds, and I frown.
“Then don’t do it,” I blurt, not wanting to cause one of my closest friends pain.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” she challenges, doubling down on her point as she turns her attention to Wylder, who happens to be seated beside me on the sofa.
“Don’t ask him. He’s playing with my new toy,” I blurt, aiming my thumb at my friend while earning a glare from the brute beside me.
“She’s not a damn toy. Besides, you don’t want to play with her because she’s a virgin,” he snarks back, stirring my dick to life at the mention of that little tidbit. It should put me off, as it usually does, but with her, it seems everything is different.
“Is that still the case?” I ask, quirking a brow at him while internally cursing myself out for revealing that it’s even still a thought to me.
“Would it matter if she wasn’t?” He leans back in his seat, draping his arm along the back of the sofa as he stares me down, baiting me.
“Wylder,” I snarl, my nostrils flaring to life as my gaze narrows.
“Don’t push him, Wylder. That’s the last thing we need when it seems he’s already wound tight,” Minnie murmurs, but there’s a teasing in her tone that I’m all too familiar with.
Wylder leans toward me until there’s only an inch or two between us. The sparkle in his eyes is the only warning I get before he speaks. “She tastes like Heaven.” His words are nothing more than a breath of air.
“Fuck. You,” I grind out, jealousy burning through my veins, but it’s not lost on me that his words don’t confirm he took her virginity.
My thoughts are interrupted by a knock coming from the door.
Minnie bounds to her feet, aiming a deadly stare at me and Wylder. “Thank goodness she’s not a wolf with the ability to hear the crap coming from you two,” she gripes, and Wylder scoffs.
“Yeah, or a vampire,” he adds, and the sneer that curls my lip deepens.
“If she were one of them, we definitely wouldn’t be in this situation right now,” I correct. Still, neither of them offers me any acknowledgment as Minnie swings the door open to reveal my silver-haired distraction with her friend beside her.
I notice how my sister rakes her eyes over the friend; the friend also glances over my sister. Hmm. That’s a heartache waiting to happen, but I refuse to get involved. My sister still hasn’t let me live it down the last time I tried to intervene. So I’ll remain silent and be here when she needs me when the downfall inevitably happens.
“Ready to go?” Minnie beams, and Polaris nods nervously, nipping at her bottom lip, and my dick stirs at the sight.
“Where are we going?”
“To have some fun, remember?” Minnie insists, waving her off as I take a second to drink her in.
I’m still mad at her for leaving my sister waiting, even though Minnie insists she had a good reason; not that she shared it with me. Regardless, I’ll be mad until I say I’m not. Even if she stands before me in a pleated skirt and cropped white-collared shirt that reveals the tiniest sliver of her stomach.
I wonder if her skin is as soft as it looks.
Fuck.
I need to get my head out of the gutter. What I should be considering is the point Tatum made the other night about needing a witch.
Is she trustworthy?
There’s only one way to find out. Either way, something tells me that, in her presence, we’re all fucking doomed.