Chapter 24
24
Layne
I t’s hard not to whine when Valentine pulls out of my body, but I feel like I’m losing a limb. Same with Matteo. I’ve become instantly addicted to how they make me feel, and the notion of being married to them, of being their Omega, is so damn near perfect, I want to cry.
If we have sex like that for the rest of my days, any whispers of the revenge I want to take against my family seem insignificant and wasteful.
I barely open my eyes, but it would be impossible to miss the joy I find in Matteo’s. Except, of course, Dante pushes him out of the way to fill my view with his very smug look.
“What?” I slur, trying to sound completely put together and unaffected by my husbands’ dicking prowess, and failing miserably, if the three husky chuckles are anything to go by.
“I like this loved-up, snuggly version of you.”
“I will remind you of that when you least need it,” I mumble, but I turn away, burying against Valentine's chest.
“What time is it?” he asks, his fingers running up and down my spine, lulling me further into a dozy cloud of soft endorphins.
“We have a couple of hours.”
“Wake me up when you leave,” I say, rubbing my face and finding a more comfortable spot.
“We’re all going.”
“I can’t,” I whine.
Valentine’s hand leaves my body for a moment, and then a moment later, I get goodbye kisses from Dante and Matteo.
I definitely snooze, so does Valentine. His breathing is deep and slow, and his arm stays wrapped around me protectively.
And then he wakes me the same way he sent me to sleep, with long, tickling touches up my spine. I twist and stretch; the afterglow of vigorous, delicious sex has my muscles aching like a beautiful reminder.
Rolling backward, Valentine follows and crowds from above as he rests his head on his elbow and rolls his thigh up on my leg.
“I don’t know how, Layne, but it feels like we’ve been doing this for a long time.”
I smile, because I feel the same way, and when he dips down and kisses me softly, my heart thuds painfully hard in my chest, and I hope I haven’t read all this wrong. I’m not sure I could survive being in their world like this and cast out; it would break me.
“Dante said you were worried about how fast things are happening,” he says, towering over me still, so I can’t hide from him. “I want you to know, we were raised to trust our gut, to put all our faith in those immediate feelings you have when meeting someone. Like learning to pick up the smallest shift in someone's scent. Sometimes I think it’s actually a part of our DNA. Our parents pushed us to be very confident in our Alpha designation, and that insight has saved us too many times.”
He brushes hair off my face. Though he’s tender, he’s not holding back his dominance, either.
“We might be possessive, occasionally violent, and protective. The flip side of that is, for our mate, we are devout, loyal, and nearly smothering in our affection.”
I sigh dramatically. “Poor me.”
Valentine traces my smile with his thumb. “Our fathers saw our mother across a crowded room. The very next hour, they all snuck off and were bribing a priest to marry them before they packed under the rising sun. So, falling quickly—and hard—is in our blood. I’m not about to come up with one reason as to why this won’t work, but I will prove to you every moment I get that you are ours.”
I still can’t find the right words. The swelling of my happiness matches his sentiment, but that doesn’t stop lots and lots of what-ifs from swirling in my mind.
“Unless, of course, this isn’t what you want. Us, I mean.”
I meet his eyes and fall under the magic of them. “I want this. Very much.”
“Then, give us the chance to prove we are not going to disappoint you like the voice of your past promises.”
I close my eyes, surrendering to the fact he knows exactly what he faces. “There are things I want to do.”
“And you will.”
“You won’t make me a prisoner, because you’re worried about one of your enemies snatching me in their attempt to break you?”
“Wait”—he sits up, his expression somber—“you’re talking about leaving this apartment?” Before I can argue, Valentine dips back down and rubs his face all over mine, scent marking up. “Glad you brought up us going out. Let me freshen you up, but don’t you think for a second that I’m washing our scent and claim off your skin. Or we will be late for lunch.”
One blink, and I come face-to-face with his dominance. He pins me with the look in his eyes as he dips his fingers back inside my body, making me squeak and purr at the same time. I watch, fascinated and slightly obsessed, as he licks them clean before he rolls off the bed, twisting around in a flash and nabbing my ankle, tugging me closer to the edge.
Still not using his words—the heat and possessiveness in his eyes are easy to interpret—he lifts me to my feet, then directs me into the bathroom with his hands on my hips.
Dante’s bathroom is lush, with black and gold accents. I wouldn’t have thought it would be his choice in décor, but now that I’m standing at the door, I couldn’t imagine anything less. It is also toasty warm, like a hot summer's day, heat rising off the tiles, but also falling down from the heat lamps on the high ceiling.
Valentine slaps my bottom for me to move out of the doorway and farther into the bathroom. I make a beeline for the shower—because, holy shit, it looks incredible—but he grabs me mid step and lifts me off my feet, setting me on a pile of fresh towels on the vanity.
“You made us late, trapping us in bed with you.” He smirks. “And, now, you won’t have time to shower.”
I go to argue, but he stops me with a rumble of warning, then he proceeds to shave. I never thought I would find watching a man shave be a turn-on, but holy shit, Valentine unlocks a new fetish for me. The way he handles the old-school blade is nothing but pure smut.
“Spread your legs,” he says once he has used a piping hot cloth to wipe his face clean.
“What? Why?”
“Because I told you to.” He infuses the smallest press of his designation, and my legs fly open.
The both of us laugh at how responsive I am. Although the blaze of color in his eyes after they move off my pussy is a sign of how responsive he is too. As is the way his towel does nothing to conceal his hard-on.
Valentine fills the sink again and grabs a new cloth from under the sink before he holds his hand out expectantly, and I realize a little late he wants my foot.
“I can take a shower,” I offer, barely concealing the shivers his touches elicit.
“And I already said that wasn’t in the cards,” he says briskly before he finishes washing my legs and moves on to using some lotion on them. Leisurely, of course, like we have all the time in the world.
His every touch feels like a caress, and I keep having to shuffle around to stop him from seeing the proof of my arousal. When I go to cross my legs, he presses them open again. He packs everything away once my legs and feet are done, and I realize he’s adamant about me going out to lunch with their claims over my skin and inside my body.
“Is this a lesson in scent?” I ask as he lifts me off the vanity with such ease, I feel overly dainty. Which I am not.
“You were right about Claudia. She’s been out telling everyone our pack is a sham. So, now you’re married and so layered with our scent, there’s no mistaking the reason we actually will be late when we walk into the restaurant.”
“She told everyone we were fake after that kiss? What a bitch!” I scoff, rolling my eyes and being extra sassy.
Valentine’s shoulder braces as a shiver races down his body. My hand trails over his chest, like I’m trying to ease his tension while figuring out what happened. When I check his eyes, they’re back to blazing in color too.
He bares his teeth at me. “Look at you fighting for us already, wife.” Instead of trying to sort through the validity or reasoning of our instant connection, I feed it a little more.
“If I find out you ever went there, dear husband, my opinion of you will tank.”
His eyebrows rise as a seductive smirk dances over his lips. Belatedly, I think I may have just walked into exactly where he wants again.
“You strutting in like your ass fucking hurts because of the way I owned it, plus the scent of my brother and Matteo all over you, is going to put a stop to any rumor people may have that we are fake. We have never let another woman wear our scent. Ever.”
Matteo enters at the right time. “Straight to the point, as always, Val. And, Layne, I assure you, we have never been close enough to Claudia to let her sink her desperate claws into us. We can have a chat about our pasts later—it will be a quick conversation—but right now, we really do need to leave.”
And then he waves me over, his eyes all but devouring every inch of my body as I walk toward him.
“For the rest of my days, I’m going to be thankful Gucci shot me.” He presses his lips together when I do a pirouette for him.
It scares me how quickly I’ve become comfortable around them.
“Are you serious? The other man’s name was Gucci?” I laugh, accepting the underwear Matteo passes over.
“I was planning to shoot him just for that,” Matteo says, latching my bra for me.
“I can dress myself.”
“I get to touch you more this way,” he murmurs, dipping down for a kiss on my shoulder.
“There is that,” I muse. Happily. Because that is how I feel. Happy and safe, which initially, was the reason I agreed to jump into this deal.
“Who are we having lunch with?”
“Assholes,” Dante adds as he rushes past us over to his bedside table to grab his watch.
A man putting on a watch should not have my nipples hardening, but I ache.
“You okay?” he asks when I start trying to shake some sense into my head.
“Yeah.”
“Are you reading the room right?” Dante pushes gently, not accepting my lack of a real answer as an answer.
And I glance around. The three of them are looking at me with the same burning intensity that is smoldering in my thoughts.
“Looks like.”
“Good girl,” he praises before helping Matteo dress me.
Except, where Matteo focuses on clothes, Dante dresses me in weapons. As soon as Matteo helps me climb into a pair of padded panties, thank god, Dante slides my knife holder up one leg before standing.
“If we ever get separated, I want you to go back to the pack that helped you when you first arrived. When we leave the house, we start talking as if people are listening. You don’t mention their name, but I want you to know we know. Ahmed knows. And this tracker shows me where you are.”
The tracker he mentions is apparently in the tracker gun that looks like it’s off a fucking sci-fi movie set. It’s huge.
I take a step back just as Matteo is holding a wrap dress open for me to put on. But I snarl at Dante. “Are you serious? Who the hell are we having lunch with?”
He shrugs, looking half apologetic while also getting a stubborn look of determination in his eyes. “Our family. And, yes, I am serious. It’ll hurt, but it’s probably not as uncomfortable as having my brother’s dick up your ass.”
“Fuck off,” Valentine snaps. “She fucking loved my cock.”
I pull a face, half arguing with the both of them. And that’s when Dante strikes. The noise of the gun scares me more than the pain of the implant. I still react, though, almost instinctively landing a punch and yelling at him at the same time. “Dante! I didn’t say yes!”
“It wasn’t up for discussion.” He shakes his head as if he’s surprised I’m having an issue with it before he grabs my hand to check my knuckles. “You being a bit pissed at me is something I can handle if it means you are safe. Sorry, baby.”
The dangerously good-looking dirtbag ruins any argument that was building on my tongue about independence and overkill by being overly sweet in a very Dante manner. And then he nearly fucking wrecks me by cupping the back of my neck and pulling me close, whispering in my ear. “We’re not going to leave you, lose you, or let you get away.”