5. King #2
Blaze picks up the map and inspects it again. “All right. Head down and get the supplies. We’ll let the others sleep as long as they can. At dawn, we head back out there.”
Roseland wraps a scarf around the lower part of Dove’s face and kisses her forehead.
“Now, remember, keep your head down and stay between us.”
She nods and climbs in the car.
I take a long look around, checking to make sure we aren’t being watched. There are a lot of trees out here, but I went out earlier and checked everywhere for any sign of surveillance, and I think we’re still safe. There’s always the chance I’ve missed something, but I don’t think I have.
I climb in beside Dove and take her hand.
A minute later, we’re driving towards the orange dawn, and the only place we can think of to make sure we keep these omegas safe.
At the cabin, Pix uses a key and drags out a whole heap of gear that we pick through. He goes inside and turns on a walkie-talkie.
“Cabin Three seeking romance and sexy ladies.”
“Go ahead, Cabin Three. We are fresh out of sexy ladies and romance but carry fleas and ticks galore.”
I raise an eyebrow. These Sandersons are freaking weird. I think that’s Mark Sanderson, but I’m not a hundred percent sure. I’m still seething over him climbing into our house and setting his fucking pack of dogs on us. He’s lucky he’s alive.
I’m not a fan of dogs, and being woken up like that was terrifying. Not going to lie. But having the gun pointed at my forehead and the harsh, bloodthirsty conversation that followed still has my temper burning.
Mark drew a line. If we wish to have any hope of a relationship with Pix, we can no longer threaten or work against Pix’s family. He promised he would destroy our chance with him if we didn’t obey. And then to prove how much power he had, the fucker got Pix on the line.
I don’t know how he did it.
But by the end of it, the truth was clear to see. Pix and Mark are a package deal. Consider him the annoying older brother none of us wanted.
God, he just played everyone like a fiddle. With dogs breathing down our necks, we listened to the entire conversation Mark had with Pix. His fake concern about us and begging Pix to come home.
The whole time, his pack of mutts was one step from tearing out our throats. I have to admit, Mark is more ruthless and smarter than I gave him credit for. Once he was off the phone, he’d grinned.
“Do we understand each other?”
Then he and his mutts just left. They fucking disappeared. I know, I checked. I absolutely am not terrified of that alpha and his dogs. But I am extremely cautious. I shudder just thinking about seeing him again.
He did let us know that the Prince Pack has forgiven us for blowing up their house and gave us a message. “Thank you for the chance to renovate.”
Assholes. All of them.
“Letting you know to abandon hope and enjoy that wet and wild,” Pix says to Mark.
There is a heavy pause.
“Gotcha, Cabin Three. Get my dick wet and run loose. Heading for the slip and slide now. Catch you in eleven.”
“No can do. It’s feeling a bit hot under the bonnet. Let’s meet again on my baby girl’s birthday at our home away from home.”
“Ooh, a party! I love it. Watch out for rodents.”
I am one hundred percent sure that’s Mark. No one else sounds as damn cheerful and even-tempered as he does. Evil, evil son of a bitch. I really, really dislike him. But he’s right; as the best friend, he is untouchable.
Pix scowls. “Roger that. Over and out.”
“What did all that mean?” I ask.
“Mark said that they are being watched. I told him to run and to kill anyone who follows them. He said he understood and was going to catch me on the eleventh, which is in three days. I said no and told him we’d meet him in five weeks on his baby, Vicious’ birthday.
I told him we were heading for a heat, so he will keep people away.
He followed up with a parting blow, letting me know Megs and Desi are out here, somewhere. ”
I blink at him. “You said all that?”
“Mark and I have become very good at saying a lot with not much and not much with a lot. It’s a very good way to sound like we’re talking irrelevant shit when we are actually conveying really important information.”
“No shit. Interesting. So, Mark is your best friend? And we can’t kill him?” I ask, hoping he might just deny it.
“Yes, he is, and absolutely not. I mean, you could try, but Mark is…well, no offense, but I’d bet on Mark.”
Damn it. Fine. No killing. Also, mildly offensive.
“And not Bonnie?”
“Bonnie is my other best friend.”
“And Sariah?”
“I have lots of best friends,” Pix growls in irritation.
“Hmmm,” I say, studying him with interest.
“What now?”
“Am I a friend?”
“No.”
I growl at him and follow on his heels, offended, completely and ridiculously hurt. “Why not?”
“Because you are the alpha I want to dick down. We are not friends. I do not want to be friends. King, let me tell you plainly, I want to be fucked eleven ways to Sunday and made to scream. I want to say goodbye to them, and I want you to pick me up and chain me to our bed for months at a time.”
“Oh.”
I stare at him, trying not to let my thoughts get too heated, but it’s near on impossible.
“Okay. I, uh, yeah, we’re never going to be friends.”
Pix presses against me and kisses me hard. It's sudden, violent, and full of the taste of him. It’s temptation and a promise, and I’m not ready for the way it hits me, and I’m not ready for it to end.
“Thank you for coming for us,” Pix murmurs. “For her.”
“And for you,” I growl. “You are mine, too. I worried less because you are so damn deadly, but I wanted to kill anyone who got to look at you while you were gone.”
Pix’s eyes shutter. He exhales roughly. “That was just about the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
I brush my knuckles across his cheek. “I missed you.”
His eyes snap open, and he stares at me. “Good. That’s good. If we miss each other, we will be smart. Let’s get going. We need to get to those rafts before the end of the day, and we’ll be doing double time to do it.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea with Dove?” I ask, suddenly uncertain of my plan.
“Yes, we need her moving. Let’s go find a place to have a heat.”
“Okay,” I murmur. “Camping it is.”
Rolly walks past, singing about running off to live in the wild. It’s catchy and annoying, but the weight of the stress that has been pushing us down is lifting.