4. Ava
Ava
“Two names signed now. Four more to go, and all of them waiting on Scott,” I told Maeve.
“What are you going to do if he doesn’t agree?” she asked.
“He will,” I said. I didn’t have another choice. I’d have to get him on board, no matter what. “I’ll be home in a few weeks. And then you’re going to confess whatever you’re keeping from me.”
“I’m not keeping anything,” Maeve replied, but that was a lie.
She’d been lying to me the whole conversation.
I woke up at 1:00 a.m. a few nights ago, certain that something was wrong with her.
My entire body went cold, my heart thundering in my chest like it was missing its other half.
The only other time I’d ever felt it had been when I watched her collapse in front of me after going into cardiac arrest. “I have to go. I love you.”
I groaned and ran my hands over my face. “Love you, too.”
I sat back on the couch and took a sip of wine, staring out the hotel window at the streets of Copenhagen below.
Lycan and I had been here for almost two weeks, and since then, a lot had happened in Helena.
Marx, the man who’d raided our property and killed our workers, had died.
Good riddance. I hadn’t let myself think about the rest of it or what it meant.
There would be time for that when I’d fixed everything else.
Maeve had fallen in love with a Bastard, with Mill, her childhood crush. While I was happy for her, I also seethed with something rotten and scalding. Everyone in my life was moving on, and I stood stagnant, staring down the barrel of working myself to an early grave.
Lycan had said Kodiak was sending reinforcements, but he didn’t seem happy about it.
I didn’t ask why. We’d gotten closer since our confessional poker game, spending most of our personal time together until we were exhausted and went to our separate rooms. However, as part of our increased security protocol, our suites were now adjoining, and the door between us was to remain unlocked at all times.
He was off tonight. I didn’t ask questions about that, either.
Whatever he got into during his spare time wasn’t my business, even as I stared at the barrier with quiet contemplation.
Was he in there now? Probably not. He’d likely taken advantage of the notorious nightlife available to us in this city and gone out.
Perhaps the better question was…why hadn’t I taken advantage of it?
I could call Locust or Bow and ask them to escort me wherever I wanted.
But I didn’t feel like it. My bones shivered, and I alternated between hot and cold flashes.
Jury was still out on whether I was getting sick, despite brimming with energy that made falling asleep feel like a chore.
I wanted to stay in, to turn this suite into a comfortable oasis, and that thought made me feel even worse about myself. What sort of recluse wanted to mope about an empty hotel room when the European city of sin awaited them just beyond their cage?
Deciding not to mentally torture myself by meandering through that destitute neural pathway tonight, I stood and walked around my suite, looking for my work laptop.
Might as well get something done before the onslaught of meetings tomorrow, but after checking every room and my work bag, I couldn’t find it.
Suddenly remembering I’d left it in Lycan’s kitchen after we returned from the happy hour with our Danish colleagues this afternoon, I went to the door connecting our suites and turned the handle to pull it open. I didn’t think twice about it.
The unmistakable sound of moaning stopped me as I entered the space. The dimmed lights barely illuminated the scene in the suite’s living area.
Lycan stood in the center of the room wearing a black Henley, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, his black jeans hanging loosely on his hips.
A naked man knelt on the floor in front of him, his hands tied behind his back in thick dark ropes, laddered across his arms to hold them in place.
Angry welts lined his shoulder blades and his ass, hinting at what must have happened earlier in the night.
His head bobbed in front of Lycan’s pelvis, loud slurping sounds interspersed with groans and gags.
Gray eyes met mine, and a pale eyebrow shot up his forehead. But he didn’t stop. Nor did he try to hide what was clearly going on.
My heart pounded. My muscles tensed, rooting me to my shameful spot at the end of the hallway.
I didn’t know what to do. I wasn’t meant to see this.
I wasn’t meant to be in Lycan’s room. I knew better.
Scalding embarrassment rushed through my veins, urging me to look away, to shield my eyes, but the visual was so captivating I could only stare at the details.
Lycan’s delicately flushed cheeks. The hooded glint in his eyes. The thick veins on his forearms as he grabbed the man’s hair. The predatory way he thrust his hips, simultaneously claiming the man and his own pleasure.
What would it be like? To have Lycan’s hands on me like that? To have his cock in my mouth, my hands behind my back, unable to stop whatever he wanted to do to me? To hand over my control, my consent, my trust, so completely?
A wet, sticky warmth hit me between the legs, and I clenched my hands to keep from touching myself to relieve the pressure.
The man moaned, pulling me back to reality.
I shouldn’t see this.
I shouldn’t be here.
“I—” I squeaked, taking a step back. The man realized I was there and stopped to peer over his shoulder at me.
“Who’s that, Luke?” he asked.
“I didn’t tell you to stop,” Lycan said, grabbing the back of the man’s head to encourage him to continue. The man went back to work, and I blinked, taking another step toward my door.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. Adrenaline and horror overtook my muscles as I scurried to the door, slamming into the wall hard enough to make me lose my grip on my wineglass.
It tumbled to the ground and shattered, but I barely noticed.
As I raced for my room, I stepped on a piece and gasped as a shard sliced through the arch of my foot.
My foot slipped in my blood, and my weight slid out from under me, sending me tumbling onto the carpet.
Scrambling to my feet, I slammed the door behind me and leaned against it, heaving for air, trying to reconcile what I’d just witnessed.
I knew Lycan was a playboy. He’d admitted as much to me on several occasions. But that?
My heart thundered in my ears, my body hot and my skin tight.
My cunt clenched around nothing, suddenly so very empty and desperate to be filled.
I wanted to hide in my bedroom and shove my fingers between my legs.
I wanted to go back into Lycan’s room and watch the rest of it play out.
Or maybe shrink into myself from embarrassment, from my thoughtless interruption of such a private moment.
I closed my eyes and counted to ten, focusing on the way my ribs expanded as I inhaled and contracted as I exhaled.
What were you thinking?
I remembered the way Lycan had looked at me the first night we’d played poker, when he’d called my mouth venomous and I’d lost the filter between my brain and my mouth.
“My mouth is good at a lot of things.”
His heated gaze had dropped to my lips, hunger dancing perilously close behind it.
He’d kissed my cheek before he left and called me Trouble.
Since then, it had become an inside joke between us—a pet name that twisted girlish joy through my insides whenever he used it.
It made me feel special. Unique. Like he saw something in me no one else had.
But there he was, getting his cock sucked by some stranger in the middle of the night.
Of course he is.
Not everyone is a stuck-up prude.
Not everyone thinks sex is intimate and personal.
Not everyone blushes and runs away at the first sign of intimacy. I can’t be that for him. I can’t be that for anyone.
The stabbing pain from my foot refocused my attention, and I stared at the growing bloody patch that spread all over the white carpet.
“Great,” I mumbled as I grabbed my phone and limped to the bathroom, leaving a trail of crimson stains behind me.
After slumping on the edge of the tub, I crossed my injured foot over my other knee and assessed the damage.
A piece of glass stuck out of the wound, and I braced myself, preparing to count to three and yank it out.
Just as I gained enough courage to do it, a door closed down the hall and drew my attention.
Oh, no.
Footsteps echoed closer and, at the sound of the familiar gait, I clamped my hands on the edge of the tub. When Lycan rounded the corner with his hands in his pockets, I quickly averted my gaze to the floor, warmth flooding my cheeks, skin boiling with humiliation.
“Lycan, I’m sorry,” I said. “I know it’s your night off. I was just looking for my laptop. I left it on your kitchen counter, and I thought… I mean… I assumed you’d gone out. I didn’t think you’d be—”
He clicked his tongue and came closer, kneeling down in front of me so we were eye-level.
“Look at me,” he said.
I firmly refused, focusing on the blood-smeared tile floor.
“Avalon.” He used a deep, authoritative voice that snaked down my spine and forced my gaze up to his. “It’s fine. It’s not a big deal.”
“I shouldn’t have intruded,” I said. “That was careless. I don’t do careless. God, I’m such a—”
“Stop that.” His tone grew harsh, almost angry. “Whatever you were about to call yourself, stop. I won’t hear it.”
His command unfurled something inside of me, some tightly wound place that needed an order to stop the behavior. I dipped my chin in silent agreement.
“Say you understand.” His hard tone sent a chill through my muscles.
“I understand,” I said.
“Now, let me see this foot.” He grabbed my ankle and stretched my leg out so he could examine the wound.
“It’s fine,” I said. “I can handle it. You should go back to your partner. I didn’t mean to cut your night short.”
“He left,” Lycan said.