Page 68 of Addicted

Blinking, my panties fucking ruined, it takes me a hot minute to process his order. His hand slips down my arm, tangling our fingers as he holds my hand, still staring at me.

“S–sure,” I stutter out, licking my lips and feeling a flash of heat in my center when his dark eyes zoom in on the gesture.

“It's your own fault, Nightingale.” Jude laughs, grabbing my other hand. “You make him go all alpha possessive. It’s hot as fuck, right?”

“Firstly, where the fuck did you come from?” I ask as we start walking, Aeron giving a deep chuckle on my other side. “And secondly, how the fuck is his needing to piss all over me like a dog claiming his territory my fault?” A growl from said alpha has my core tightening.God-fucking-dammit.

“I got here first before all you slow pokes,” Jude answers as we approach the huge glass-paned doors and walk through.“And I don't know if you know this, Nightingale, but you have this whole broken bird that needs rescuing vibe.”

“You kidnapped me!” I screech, my eyes going wide when several heads in the lobby turn and stare at us with slack jaws.

“Not technically us,” Tarl says on the other side of Jude, a shit-stirring grin on his face.

I clench my teeth. “Semantics.”

“The devil is in the details, Dove,” Aeron adds, striding towards the front desk with a confidence that is too fucking hot.

“You'd know all about that, wouldn't you, Devil Man?”

A bark of laughter falls from his plush lips, the others guffawing, and my heart swells in my chest at the normalcy of this. Of us just poking fun at each other. It's…nice. More than nice. Sure, it’s about my kidnapping, but whatever, it’s still more normal than I’ve had in a long fucking time.

“Good morning, Mr. Taylor,” a cheerful voice greets us as we stop in front of a light, wooden reception desk. “And Mr. Taylor, Mr. Johnson, Mr. Ahmad.” She's older, with light blonde hair cut in a cute bob and a bright smile plastered on her lightly made up face.

“Good morning, Janet,” Aeron smoothly replies. “Looking beautiful as always.”

I press my lips together to suppress the surprised smile that wants to form at his flattery. I've not seen this side of him before, and I find that I love it.

“Oh, you!” She blushes, laughing and flipping a hand in his direction. “Flattery will get you everywhere. Mrs. Taylor is in the Orangey this morning.”

“Thank you, Janet,” Aeron says, squeezing my hand before leading me towards a set of double doors.

I barely get to take in the bright, airy opulence of the foyer before I'm pulled through the doors and into a light hallway lined with windows and landscape paintings.

“This place is unreal,” I say, gazing with wide eyes at the beautiful worlds in their gold frames.

“It's the best money can buy,” Aeron states, his voice oddly without emotion and I look up to see the lines around his eyes are tight, his mouth turned down into a frown. Still holding my hand, he leads the way, Jude not letting go of my other. “She's very…comfortable here.”

The way he says the last part has a knot forming in my stomach, the early fall sunshine doing nothing to chase away the chill his words leave.

We soon arrive at another set of double doors, the glass in them showing a glimpse of an illuminated room beyond, the huge windows that make up most of the walls letting in every scrap of sunshine. Aeron pauses, so we all do. I watch as he takes a deep breath, squaring his shoulders as if he’s preparing to face his demons, and then pushes the doors open.

I blink at the brightness of the Orangey, and it takes a second for my eyes to adjust enough to make out the frail figure sitting in a rattan chair, swathed in blankets.

“Mom?” Aeron's voice is softer than I've ever heard it, his grip on my hand painfully tight as he holds it like it's the only thing keeping him tethered to this world.

“Oh, boys. How lovely to see you.” Her voice is like the fluttering of a small bird's wings, light and barely there.

“Hey, Mom,” Jude says, also keeping his voice low. He lets go of my hand before walking over to her and pressing a kiss on her cheek.

I study her; she's beautiful in an ethereal kind of way. She’s probably around fifty, although it’s hard to tell as sadness lines her face and hunches her shoulders, so she could be younger. She’s thin, painfully so, and a thick shawl is draped over her shoulders even though the room is warm. Unlike the brothers,she has startling, blue eyes and blonde hair that is dry and brittle-looking but still falls in loose waves around her.

“Hello, Mrs. Taylor,” Tarl greets, also stepping up to her and kissing her softly on the cheek.

“Tarl, so nice to see you, dear boy.” She cups his cheek, looking him over. “Have you been sleeping enough, you look tired.” Jude snorts at that, knowing exactly why Tarl might look tired after last night.Fucker.

“Hey, Heather,” Knox says, walking over until I'm left with just Aeron.

“Knox! I hope you're still keeping these boys in line for me.” She laughs, and I want to wince at the broken noise. Her eyes go distant in an instant, her face dropping as if she’s thinking of something sad. My heart aches at that look of desolation.