Chapter Six #2
I feel like there’s a double-meaning behind his words. “I guess,” I mutter. “I’m certainly not a stupid girl, and I’m not keen on getting killed.”
“Seamus, get the fuck out,” Dorian repeats, harsher. “I’ve got this under control.”
“I know you do,” Seamus replies, still staring at me.
“But I think I’ll stay a while.” I direct my gaze at the cats, uncomfortable with his presence.
I don’t think he’ll hurt me, but I do think he might want something from me.
Earlier, he asked if Dorian would be willing to share me.
I don’t intend to sleep with Dorian, and I certainly have no interest in sleeping with Seamus. He’s too… feral.
“Where is she sleeping tonight?” Seamus calls out.
“My room,” Dorian replies.
Seamus smiles at me. “If you get bored of him, you’re very welcome in my room, Mira.”
“No, thank you,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m not interested.”
“Hmm,” Seamus hums. “I’m interested, though. Fascinated, which is quite unusual. Not much fascinates me, but you do.”
I lift a shoulder, swiftly catching the kit that tumbles from my neck with a hand. I set her on my lap. “Find someone else to be fascinated with.”
“How’s your shoulder?” he asks, glancing at my right arm.
I blink, having forgotten about it. The pain has already waned until it’s barely noticeable—just a low pulse when I shift too abruptly.
“It’s fine. Thank you for putting it back in place.”
“You’re very welcome.” He grins. “I’m good with my hands.”
Dorian emerges from the tech room, my phone clutched in his hand. He pockets it and turns a cutting gaze on Seamus.
“Back off,” he warns lowly. “You’ve got a revolving door of hookups, focus on them.”
Seamus tilts his head. “So do you.” He glances at me. “Do let me know if you change your mind, love. I’d be happy to give you the ride of a lifetime.” He taps the couch twice and winks at me before trotting back up the stairs.
I sigh, shaking my head. “Can I go home now?”
“Nope. Say goodnight to the kittens, we’re heading to bed.”
It’s a process to extricate myself from Credence and her kittens.
I give them all kisses and cuddles, then pause to examine one of them.
A black kit with a patch of white fur over one eye doesn’t appear to be doing so well.
Her breaths are shallow wheezes; there’s colored discharge clogging her nose, and the membranes in her face are a bit swollen.
She’s the runt of the litter, and she’s struggling.
“This one needs to go to a vet,” I announce to Dorian. “She’s sick. Upper respiratory infection, I think. Kittens are super susceptible to them.”
Dorian’s eyebrows lift as he gazes at me. “Oh?”
I nod. “Yeah. I’ve seen this before, I’m ninety percent sure that’s what it is. Babygirl needs antibiotics and special formula to help her get back on track.”
The kitten meows her outrage at being examined so closely; Credence leaps up and grabs her by the scruff, taking her back to the box. I smile vaguely at how utterly adorable they are, even though concern for the runt is dampening my mood.
“Where have you seen it before?” Dorian questions, watching me with lowered brows.
I frown right back at him. “You don’t believe me? People don’t usually question my affinity for animals or experience with sick ones.”
He shakes his head. “No, I believe you, I’m just curious to know where you’ve seen it before. Have you worked with vets?”
“Work with vets, present-tense,” I tell him.
“I have a job at a local animal shelter. The pay is shit and most of it goes to my wolf pack, fox skulk, and groceries, but the experience is fantastic. One of the vets there is kind of a mentor to me; she lets me shadow her during examinations and surgeries. She’s offered to write me a recommendation letter when I apply to vet school, which will be super useful.
” I gaze back at the box with Credence and her kittens.
“Can we take them with us to wherever your room is?”
Dorian shakes his head, smiling faintly. “No, leave them be here. You can check on them in the morning.”
I bite my bottom lip as I look at him. “I’d like to clarify that I do not want to spend the night with you. I’d really prefer to have my own room, or even take the couch down here.”
Dorian’s smile widens. “Noted. Now get your ass over here and let’s go to bed.”
Dorian’s bedroom is on the second floor of the house, and it’s a study in minimalism.
A king-sized, four-poster bed lies against the far wall, with dark grey covers pulled over it.
Off to one side is a bathroom and a walk-in closet.
On the opposite wall is a bank of windows that faces the courtyard of the house. There are no pictures or knickknacks.
“You want to shower?” Dorian asks me once he’s closed the door and locked it with a key.
“Yeah. I should get the smell of wolves and cats off me. Credence thoroughly scent-marked me.”
Dorian nods. “I can give you one of my shirts to replace yours.”
“And shorts?” I ask hopefully. I’d rather not be half-naked around Dorian. Despite my fear, the man is potent as hell, and I don’t want to lose control of myself.
His lips twist. “I have old basketball shorts with drawstrings.”
“Okay. I need to go back to my dorm room in the morning to grab my school supplies. And pack a bag, I guess, if you really are planning on keeping me here the entire week.”
“I can accommodate that. I’ll take you there before classes—will your roommates be home?”
I nod. “Yes, they will. Speaking of, I’ve been thinking about what I should tell them.
I know they’d keep quiet if I told them the truth, but I don’t want to burden them with that.
” I look at the floor. “People shouldn’t be forced to carry certain secrets with them.
It’s a heavy weight to bear. Instead, I could tell them something else.
Maybe that I was being chased around by someone you know of or was in some sort of danger, and you offered to protect me.
Since I don’t want to bring the threat to them, I’m staying in your gothic, super secure McMansion. ”
Dorian ponders that for several moments. “Have a lot of secrets you’re carrying around, do you?”
I smile grimly. “Yep. And the weight is crushing on a good day, deadly on a bad one. But I can handle it—I’ve carried a lot inside for a very, very long time. Cara and Valerie are different. They’ve both been through some shit and I don’t want to add to it.”
“Huh,” Dorian says slowly. “Okay, yeah. That’s fine by me. I’ll still run it by the other guys in the morning. He disappears into the closet, then reappears with a big white shirt and huge blue shorts. He hands me the clothes. “Go shower. Take your time, feel free to use my products.”
I glance at his pockets. “Can I have my phone?”
He pulls it out and hands it to me. I turn and head to the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind me.
I set my clothes on the granite counter between two white-basin sinks with stainless steel faucets, and turn on the glass-enclosed shower.
While it warms, I investigate my phone, trying to discern if anything’s wrong with it now that it’s bugged.
I really don’t like the idea of someone tracking me or seeing everything I do on it, but I suppose it could be beneficial.
Dorian won’t be as suspicious if he can see that I’m keeping my lips sealed physically and digitally.
I shoot off a text to Cara and Valerie while mulling over what I’ll tell them tomorrow.
Someone followed me in the forest and I stumbled upon Dorian at the base of the mountain, who was out with his crew for a night hike because they’re fucking weirdos.
He scared off whoever was chasing me. When I mentioned I didn’t want to bring trouble back home with me, he offered to let me stay with him for a while.
I’ll paint a picture of him being a good guy. Hopefully, it’ll work.
I’m quick in the shower, using Dorian’s products to scrub my hair and body thoroughly.
Once I’m done, I wrap myself in a towel and use some of his toothpaste on my finger to brush my teeth before getting dressed.
I have to cinch the waistband of the shorts phenomenally tight for them to stay up.
The shirt is like a dress, falling to my knees, but I consider the extra clothing a blessing.
I’m not comfortable sleeping in Dorian’s bed, especially not after he’s made his interest and intent to sleep with me clear, but I don’t see a way around it.
I also can’t deny that I was titillated when he was telling me about his kinks.
I don’t want to be attracted to him, but I am, which means I’ll need to tread carefully.
When I step out of the bathroom, Dorian goes in to take his shower.
I don’t bother trying to escape or leave the room; he locked the door, and I don’t want to make things worse for myself by rousing suspicion.
My backpack’s set at the foot of the bed—he must’ve brought it up while I was showering.
I grab my headphones from it and pop them into my ears, turning on the forest-noises that I sometimes fall asleep to.
Dorian emerges from the bathroom, wearing only a towel wrapped around his hips. I glance up from my phone, then do a double take.
Holy.
Fucking.
Shit.
I knew he was built under his clothes, but I didn’t think he was this built.
His muscles aren’t bulky, not like Connor’s, but they are incredibly well defined.
I can see his biceps and triceps, his pectorals, and every finely-honed ridge of his six pack that borders on an eight pack.
There’s a V at the bottom of his navel that disappears into the towel, and I have a sudden urge to lick the water droplets traveling down his abs.
No. Nope. Abort mission.
I pointedly glue my eyes back to my phone, frowning when Dorian chuckles as he retreats into the closet. He saw me staring at him, and finds my admiration entertaining.
He emerges wearing only a thin pair of black briefs that do nothing to hide the bulge of his cock.
I can’t stop myself from glancing at it, even though I know I shouldn’t, and a quick look is all it takes to tell me that the big-dick energy he’s been emanating is very much proportionate.
He’s huge, and a lot of my arousal dims at the realization that he’d be very, very painful to take.
I don’t care that his focal point with women is controlling their pleasure; I have no intention of getting killed by a monster-cock, and he would probably split me in half.
I barely escaped going to urgent care today for my shoulder dislocation, I sure as shit am not going to go to the hospital after getting torn up by that goddamn giant.
I take out one of my headphones, pointedly looking him in the eyes. “Can I sleep on the floor?”
“No.”
“Okay. Can you put on a shirt?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to feel you if you cuddle up to me in your sleep, or even brush against me,” he explains frankly.
“Oh.” I frown. “Why?”
“Because I want to find out if your skin is as soft as it looks.”
“Why?”
He releases a long breath. “Because it would feel good. Stop asking why and get in bed.”
“Which side do you sleep on?” I ask him.
“The middle, usually,” he admits.
I nod. “Alright. I’ll take the very edge. The bed’s big enough that we don’t need to touch. Can I build a pillow fort?”
“No.” When I open my lips to ask why, he preempts my question with a response.
“Because I don’t want to. Because I look forward to seeing if you’ll wrap around me in the night.
Because I want to feel you, and a few fucking pillows aren’t going to get in the way of that.
Let’s sleep, Mira, it’s late and we have an early morning. ”