22. Orso
Orso
It’s been almost a week since we made love in her office, and the three of us are completely frazzled.
Kallis is acting exactly the same, with not a single hint that Artie had his tongue buried so far in her pussy that she’d practically been riding him.
And it doesn’t matter how many hints he or Mathan drop, she’s not moving an inch, even though she admitted to us that we left her shaken.
So my mates have been asking themselves what the hell they’re going to do, and I’ve spent sleepless nights attempting to convince myself I want the same thing as her: boundaries.
She’ll leave in five and a half more months, seven and a half if we make the playoffs. We can endure that.
Or that’s what we all thought, until we had a game in Boston, and Kallis and Aspen went off for a day trip to Harvard University.
She said they were going to compare their research on the whole CTE thing she was doing, and Kallis claimed she wanted to ask the doctors there about their data-gathering techniques.
Kenny and Anders caught them coming back to the hotel at 11 p.m., tipsy and layered in about twenty different alpha scents.
Apparently, the researchers had introduced them to a pool of subjects of the study, which was the fucking Boston Bruins—the Boston Brown Bears. And the entire football team took the pair out for dinner.
But she’s never been out for dinner with us!
That was what Artie whined as soon as they told us. It’s been two days since then, and Artie hasn’t stopped going on about finding a way to make sure she doesn’t get tempted to go and work for fancier teams.
Though I can’t lie. The idea of her being surrounded by that many football brats is particularly fucking annoying. So I haven’t told Artie to quit with the possessiveness, especially when Mathan is feeling it, too.
She doesn’t need any other Bears in her life apart from us.
I still won’t take any action, even though I messed up the most with that fucking bite.
But imagine my surprise when I walk into the kitchen to discover my mates sitting at the island with two large boxes of those shitty Goldies, a pack of ribbons and gift tags when they are drenched in sweat after working out.
Is it even worth asking them what they are doing when their heads are knocked together, and they’re whispering between themselves?
They haven’t even noticed me, and part of me just wants to leave them to it so I don’t get wrapped up in their plans.
But I have to make sure they aren’t doing anything stupid.
“Were you ever going to explain this one to me? Or are you doing it in secret?” I ask, folding my arms as their heads shoot up. I can’t believe they look shocked. As if I’m not going to catch them doing it in the middle of our fucking cottage?
When Mathan and I first mated, he said it was his dream to live in a cottage at the edge of a forest and fields where he could walk every day (or frolic, as I like to say). It’s also close to The Woods, so we can easily go between the two.
It took us a year after bonding to find the perfect place, and we’ve lived here ever since, turning our cottage into a real home. Bringing Artie in had been a struggle, and it irks me how much I’m not against inviting Dr. Tully here to see how she’d react.
In my head, her house is all white and gray, with nothing comfortable.
Basically, practical and lifeless. So I want her to feel at home with the colors bursting from every corner with the trinkets and souvenirs we’ve bought from countries we’ve visited, and the gentle art and chaotic decor that Mathan and Artie love.
Our kitchen is filled with arched wooden beams and natural plaster, with a green aga against the wall and rows of cast-iron pots and pans alongside it.
The island was hand-carved by a local furniture maker, and it definitely isn’t intended for alphas to run their sweaty fingers over sponsored oat bars before attaching ribbons and gift tags to them.
I have a vague idea of why they’re doing it, but I need them to confirm it themselves.
“We’re just preparing a treat for Bee,” Artie says, sparkling as he holds up his favorite flavor, and he’s now convinced wasabi chocolate is Dr. Tully’s favorite as well.
“Since she liked the bars so much, we thought she might want something a little stronger. Besides, we gotta make a move in case other teams start giving her eyes.”
“So, what? You’ve been rubbing them under your armpits, and then you’re going to give them to her?” I ask.
“Um, well, not exactly armpits,” he says sheepishly. “But I thought she’d like them more if they were more… er… musky. We were totally going to ask you to do some as well! It’s just that you were taking a nap.”
“This isn’t the kind of thing you just ‘think of’ while I’m asleep,” I say with air quotes as I walk to the counter.
They know how I feel about secrets after everything I went through with my family, and it’s difficult not to feel hurt, even though it’s a fucking stupid idea that I don’t want to be part of.
Their scents are thick enough for me to taste them, and I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose.
“Just admit you were going to do this without me,” I say.
My gaze rises to Mathan, as I trust him far more than Artie when it comes to our future.
“Tell me the plan, then,” I say, and Artie’s smile brightens. He should know that this isn’t me agreeing to whatever crazy shit the two of them have cooked up, but I need to run interference so it doesn’t get too wild.
It’s not fair for them to try to tempt Kallis if it’s just going to upset her, but I seem to be the only one who gets that.
Artie picks up two bars, propping them thin end on the countertop and animating them like dolls as he explains the plan, complete with a falsetto voice for Kallis and kissing noises.
By the time he’s finished, my forehead hurts from scowling. It’s clear that Artie wants to go in guns blazing and shove the bars in her face, whereas Mathan wants to leave them in places like her office as breadcrumbs to lead her to us.
“Why are you going so far? What happened to us just talking to her? Maybe even being friends. I thought we were going to get to know her, not fucking court her,” I say.
From the way Artie looks at me, I already know I can’t stop them. Either I step back and leave them to it, or they do it in front of me, where I can control the situation. I figure that’s why Mathan is on his side of the counter instead of mine, so Artie doesn’t lose it.
She’s an even bigger threat now that we’ve tasted her. Kallis doesn’t have to do a single thing; she just keeps fucking up our pack every chance she gets.
I’m more receptive to Mathan’s version of the plan, obviously. Subtly courting is much better than pouncing on her when she doesn’t expect it.
At this point, it would be easier to sit down with her and carve our boundaries into stone or do something that will make it clear to Artie that rubbing an oat bar over his glistening stomach before tying it up in a pretty bow isn’t the way to go.
“Is there any way I can convince you not to do this?” I ask, glaring at Artie, who just grins as he shakes his head.
“We can tell you where we plan to leave them and when we’re going to hand them to her, or you can just tell me no and I’ll do it secretly.” He shrugs, waving a yellow-and-wasabi-green-wrapped bar in front of me like that’s supposed to tempt me.
I love their scents, and sometimes they are the only reason I get up in the morning, but I don’t have the same reaction to them that Dr. Tully does.
Because her face when she scented us in her office was so stunning that I’m already tempted to go along with their plan just to watch her shudder again.
“You could also add your scent,” Mathan says softly.
“I’m sure she would like it even more if it were all three of us.
” He hands me a bar that’s already been wrapped and soaked with wildflowers and cut grass.
I’m not going to sweat all over it, but it wouldn’t hurt to hold it long enough for my scent to transfer.
I sigh heavily as I look between both of them and their makeshift workstation.
“I must be fucking insane,” I groan as I pull up a stool, and Mathan and Artie burst to life, chattering as they develop their plan.