Chapter 18 #2
“You almost lost your mind when you spotted the games on my shelf,” Blair replies, chuckling.
“And it’s something both of you are passionate about.
You’ve been supportive of the rescue. You even have our merch.
” She points to the Furs and Purrs mug on the coffee table.
“But tonight? I want to see what you two have created.”
Excitement swirls in my chest. Our games are the exact opposite of what she’s used to playing—the titles we create are full of mystery, horror, and jump scares.
If she wants to see them, how will she react?
She’s not a fan of horror films—how could she enjoy what we make?
“None of them are cute or relaxing,” Rowan warns. “Our tamest one is your classic haunted house murder mystery.”
“Oh, I’m aware.” Blair sits up straighter. “I’ve seen all the awards your games have won over the years. Wicked Bytes is an impressive company. Your competitors have been around for decades, but you two are keeping them on their toes.”
Rowan beams while I grin. “You looked us up?” he asks.
She shrugs innocently. “You’re my scent matches. You’re my friends. I care about what you do.”
I don’t stop smiling like an idiot until she huffs and playfully smacks me on the arm. “Just show me the least scary game you have, and we’ll go from there. House Haunters was one of your first releases, right?”
Rowan looks at her like she’s grown a second head. “You really researched our company?”
“Of course,” Blair replies. “You guys are a big deal in the industry. Why do you look so surprised? You’re obviously successful as hell.” She scrunches her face. “What am I missing? You guys know you’re a big deal, right?”
On paper, sure.
But not everyone knows or cares.
Our parents, as decent and understanding as they are, have never understood why their sons used their computer science degrees for entertainment purposes.
Travis isn’t a big gamer, so he doesn’t get too excited about what we do, either.
I’ve had more than enough friends in the past casually mention how what we do isn’t a “real” job.
But Blair? The hardworking, smart as hell, gorgeous Omega that’s determined to save cats?
She took the time to look into what we do.
She’s impressed.
My Omega is pleased.
“If you say so.” I grin, my face burning from her compliment.
This girl has me smiling like a love-sick teenager and not the grown thirty-five-year-old man I am.
“I do say so.” She grins. “And please. It’s not like you haven’t done the same with Furs and Purrs.”
Rowan shrugs. “Cats are awesome, what can we say? If I had it my way, I’d take the whole rescue home.”
The jingling of bells interrupts us, and the three kittens come barreling into the room. They zip past us and down the hallway, and Ash goes galloping after them.
Blair laughs. “I seriously can’t believe you chose to foster. There’s no way this house gets any peace.”
“We don’t,” I say. “But we don’t mind.”
“They have reign of the house,” Rowan adds. “I wake up to at least one of them on my chest every day.”
“It seems like they’re bonded to you and Ash already,” Blair muses. “It might be hard to adopt them out.”
My brother and I freeze, and she must see something on our faces, because she tilts her head, confused.
“You’re fostering,” she reminds us. “Not adopting. Right?”
“Wait.” Rowan’s face twists in agony. “What do you mean?”
“Fostering means you only keep them until they grow a bit older and are ready to be adopted out,” Blair says. “Piper and Maeve explained that to you, right? I’m sure they did.”
All three of us adore the kittens, but Rowan has become the most attached to them.
And he likely ignored that part of what they told him.
He probably only heard ‘you should take them home.’
“I knew that,” I say. “I just…kind of forgot.”
Rowan looks like Blair stabbed him in the heart. “I just figured they weren’t biologically ours, that’s why it’s called fostering. I uh, kind of forgot about it the moment I brought them home.”
“Yes,” Blair laughs, amused. “The kittens are not biologically yours, so you foster them. Until they get adopted.”
Suddenly, Rowan growls, startling both me and Blair. “No one is taking them from us,” he says, his voice low.
Blair’s laughter is replaced by a genuine, gentle smile. “Exactly. You can adopt them, Rowan. There’s no waiting list for them, and you would be doing a great thing.”
Rowan visibly relaxes, and Blair’s scent grows even sweeter as she looks at my brother.
“Honestly? I thought they were ours already,” I say. “I couldn’t imagine giving them to someone else.”
Travis would be furious, too.
Those cats are a part of our lives, now.
“Congratulations,” Blair replies, turning her attention to me. “You have your first foster fails.”
I grin. “Are you saying we’re going to have more in the future?”
“It happens more often than you think. My boys were fails,” she adds.
“I would kill anyone that tried to take them,” Rowan snarls. “Those are my kittens.”
Blair raises an eyebrow at my brother.
“Well, you don’t have to now, killer,” she says. “No one is taking the girls away.”
A tinkling of bells sounds in the distance, followed by the crinkling of toys.
“Anyway,” Blair adds. “Now that that’s settled…show me some scary games.”
I’m a pervert.
I swear I’m not trying to be.
But by the time we’re halfway through the first game, Blair is sitting between us, staring at the television intently.
We switched spots so she could face the screen at a better angle, and Rowan joined us to point out exactly what to do with the controller and explain the story of the game.
Now, she’s sandwiched between us, her brow furrowed and her palms sweaty from gripping the controller so hard.
She’s scared, but mixed with her arousal, it’s mouthwatering.
And I’m trying so, so fucking hard to not stare at her.
“How is this your least scary game?” she murmurs, investigating a decrepit doll in the basement. She reads the description of the item silently, mouthing the words to herself.
“It was our first one,” Rowan says. “Once we realized we had an audience, we went darker.”
“The story itself is really interesting,” Blair adds. “Creepy, but, if someone takes to time to read all the lore, it’s pretty complicated and compelling.”
“Thanks, babe. I wrote it when I was twelve.” Rowan smirks.
Blair turns her attention to him, not realizing that the entity has given its warning sound. A jumpscare will be coming soon, and I’m not sure if I should warn her. “At twelve?” Blair repeats. “Twelve years old, and you were writing these?”
“He was a weird kid,” I say, and Rowan glowers at me.
“No, I was a brilliant, creative, genius kid,” he says. “Just because I was obsessed with ghosts and murder doesn’t mean I was weird.”
The entity in the game grows closer, and the edges of the screen tint red.
Blair doesn’t notice.
“What would you call a kid obsessed with murder?” she asks.
Rowan shrugs. “A fucking genius.”
I roll my eyes, and Blair laughs. “Whatever you say.”
The screen is bright red now, and it’s only seconds before the jumpscare will appear.
And Blair turns her attention back to the television at the right time.
A warped, aged black-and-white human skull fills the screen along with a distorted shriek.
It’s a famous jumpscare that blew up on social media and got other video game influencers to talk about us.
Blair shrieks and drops the controller.
“Holy shit!” she yelps, her body going an inch in the air at being startled. “Fuck!”
She leans into me, her back to my chest, and I wrap an arm around her shoulder.
Then, she starts laughing.
I’ve never seen her laugh like that, with pure delight on her face.
She laughs until tears fill her eyes, and soon, my brother and I are laughing, too.
“You got me,” she chuckles. “Damn.”
“That’s the reaction we wanted,” I say tenderly. “Are you okay?”
I keep her close to me, stroking the golden strands of her hair.
“Honestly? Grown men have pissed themselves at that scene,” Rowan adds. “You’re brave as hell, baby.”
Blair chuckles. “I think I needed that emotional release,” she admits. “So maybe you’re not the only weird one, Rowan.”
She’s still leaning against me, and I can’t help myself. I move her hair from behind her shoulders and nuzzle her neck, breathing her in.
She relaxes into my hold, and I gently press a kiss to her creamy skin.
“Is this okay?” I murmur, and she shivers.
“Yes,” she breathes. “I’ll tell you if it’s not.”
“Rowan,” I say. “Give her back the controller. Let her play more.”
The scent of her arousal and fear mix together, and soon, her scent permeates the room.
“You’re not even to the halfway point, baby,” Rowan purrs. “You need to solve the mystery of the house.”
“You act like I can do that with your brother mouthing at my neck,” she breathes. “I can barely think…oh, fuck.”
I bite at the skin just next to her mating gland, sinking my teeth in gently. She shivers at my touch, and Rowan watches us, his eyes darkening with lust.
The tinkling of bells sounds somewhere in the distance, signaling more kitten chaos.
I sink my teeth in harder.
“You need to learn to share, Ryland,” Rowan chides, placing the controller back into Blair’s hands. “You don’t get to hog her to yourself.”
But Rowan is on the other side of her, gently massaging her socked feet. He’s touching her too, despite his complaints.
Another moan escapes Blair, and I’m rock hard against her back.
“I’m not some toy to be fought over,” she groans.
“You’re right,” Rowan replies. “You’re a woman to be worshipped.”
“Just keep playing,” I murmur in her ear. “And let us take care of you.”
I’ve never been turned on watching someone play a video game before, but here I am.
My brother is just as affected if the widening of his pupils is any indication.
And Blair, to my surprise, turns her attention back to the television and continues exploring the haunted house, the controller trembling in her hands.
There’s another jumpscare coming in the basement.
The air is sugary and sweet with her slick, but that doesn’t stop her attentiveness to the game.
The next ghost appears, and I suck on her mating gland right in time with the scare.
I don’t know what’s gotten into me.
I’ve never been turned on by the scent of an Omega’s fear, but watching Blair play what my brother and I created makes my chest puff with pride.
And the moment my lips touch her mating gland, something remarkable happens.
Her back arches, and she lets out a small cry.
“Holy fuck,” Rowan mutters. “Look at that.”
The scent is unmistakable now.
My Omega just had an orgasm against me.