Page 4

Chapter four

Ryann

Kit waits patiently while I eat, but he doesn’t take his eyes off me. I find it strangely soothing. Callan comes into the dining room and sits beside Kit. His exasperated huff has me smiling at my hands.

“They have gone to their corners for a time out.”

Kit smirks. “Thank you, Daddy.”

I choke on a mouthful of my burrito. Why is that so hot? The alphas, not the burrito, which is also hot and cheesy and good, but now my tummy is full, and the alphas are stealing my attention. They are blinding, like holiday lights. I feel warmer just looking at them.

Callan puts his hand on Kit’s, on the table, and they both lean towards each other. I’m not even sure if they realise they are doing it. It’s the movement of two people so in love and attuned to each other that it’s unconscious.

I expect to feel envy, but the grief that wells up surprises me. They look like how my parents used to look at each other. I brush off that memory and bury it back where it can’t hurt me anymore.

“So, tell us about yourself, Ryann.”

I peer at Callan, wondering what his deal is, but his face is just open curiosity. There’s no judgement there. In my experience, people rarely have any interest in being decent. It’s while I’m looking over them I realise just how well dressed they are. The clothes are nice. Callan is wearing a shirt that fits him like a glove and jeans that have interesting inserts. Kit has on a black t-shirt with an a-symmetrical hem and cream pants, and is he wearing a corset ?

I avert my eyes and try to control the lustful thoughts that are spreading like a wildfire. Peeling said clothing off with my teeth would be a better use of my time right now.

“There’s not much to tell. I left home after my parents died, and I make my living as a professional photographer.”

“What kind of photos?” Kit asks, his eyes gleaming.

“All kinds,” I say without really thinking about it. “Sports, wildlife, school photos, weddings, special events, landscapes.”

“Boudoir?”

I pause, and then nod. “I could do that. No one’s asked, though.”

“What about erotic?”

I swallow hard. Images exploding in my brain like fireworks. I would give anything to photograph these two fucking. “No one’s asked, but I can’t see why I couldn’t.”

Kit bites his bottom lip and turns to Callan, who is already shaking his head. “No, this is a bad idea.”

“It’s a great idea.”

“It’s no, Kit, come on, we just met her. I don’t want to fuck in front of her, no offense.”

“None taken,” I say in a breathy voice that is embarrassing as fuck. Kind of massively disappointed, though.

There are a million different porn videos going through my head, except my brain is helpfully transposing Kit and Callan onto all the actors. I wish I’d never touched a porn video. This is torture. I shift in the chair, clench my thighs together, and count slowly down from ten.

“Can you do a fashion shoot?”

It takes me a minute to get my head back in the game, and I nod. I have done that before.

“Ooh, come with me,” Kit bursts up from his chair, but Callan shackles his wrist and tugs him back down.

“Let her eat and drink first. You can show her around after.”

“No, you can’t! I’ll have her buried in the backyard by sunset,” Raider snarls from another room.

I whip my head around, smiling at the doorway. I can’t see him, but, oh, he’s cute as fuck.

Callan shakes his head with a smile. “Don’t worry about him. He’s all bark and no bite.”

Raider storms through the door, which he must have been hiding behind, and attacks Callan, sending them both to the floor .

If Callan wasn’t laughing so hard, I might be worried, but Kit just snorts, moves to a safer chair, and watches them with a glint in his eyes that’s telling me, despite his disapproving expression, he’s loving this.

Wren stalks in and ruffles my hair. “Behave, Prisoner 24601.”

I slap his hand off my head and fix my hair. “Stop calling me names. I have one. Use it.”

Wren’s huge hands land on my shoulders, stunning me into frozen silence. His fingers curl, and I’m left appalled at my reaction to the huge alpha’s gentle touch.

“Not going to happen. You’re our little captive princess until you choose to spill the beans on why you want to stay here.”

“I do not,” I grit out. Deny, deny, deny.

Wren leans down so his lips are near my ear. Everything in me wants to turn so I can see him, but I don’t dare move.

“Be a very, very good beta, and I’ll consider upgrading you from prisoner to guest. The perks are to die for.”

“How do I be good?” I say back in a sexy drawl.

Wren’s fingers twitch. “Do as you're told. Stay where we put you, beg when we ask.”

I half close my eyes, feeling languid and sexy. I lift a hand and run my fingers along the line of my top, then smooth it down over my breasts. “Oh, that’s going to be a problem, though.”

“Why is that?” Wren whispers.

“Because I’m so much better at being bad.” I shift my weight in the chair and sit down hard, crushing his foot.

He hisses, and yanks his foot away while putting a good few protective feet between us. I don’t know which of us won, but I do know that the air fairly simmers with heat.

I reach out and snag the rest of my burrito and lick my hand when the juices run down.

Wren hisses and stalks out of the house. I listen intently as his car starts and speeds off down the street.

“I see you can get under Wren’s skin, too. That is a skill,” Kit purrs.

“If you can’t take it, don’t dish it,” I quip back and finish the burrito.

Raider and Callan are on the floor, kissing. It’s the strangest thing. I’m doing my absolute damnedest to ignore it, but it’s like neon signs, flashing lights, and a damn choral symphony pointing to the two of them.

I put my head in my hand and mutter.

“What was that?” Kit muses.

“Just wondering how I got here? Like, what life choice brought me to this crazy house? ”

Kit throws his head back and laughs. “Would you like to come see my office?”

Would I?

Get away from the two alphas mauling each other on the floor before I spontaneously come in my pants? Fuck yes. “Lead the way.”

The kitchen and dining room are at the front of the house. The open plan lounge takes up most of the other end. There’s three short corridors. One that ends with the stairway, another that travels across the house, dividing the rest of the house and the kitchen, toilet, and laundry, and the third leading from the lounge to the very back of the house.

“If you go straight down there, you’ll find our backyard. The corridor leads to a bathroom, toilet, laundry, and back through to the kitchen. This hallway leads to the upstairs where all the bedrooms are. I’ve got a room already made up for you.”

I get a bit skittish when he says that. Instead of going up the stairs, though, he goes to the side and opens a door I didn’t even know was there.

He disappears, but when I get in the door frame, I look down into darkness. I scowl, nothing is more sus than a basement when you are in a stranger's house.

“There are no wells down here and skin suits?”

Kit laughs and flicks on a light, leaving an almost clinical white staircase and room below. “There are suits, but I’m far too queasy to sew with skins.”

I descend, and my fear evaporates as I see the huge space that’s taken up with clothes, sewing machines, enormous desks, and racks of fabric.

“Wow!”

Kit smiles at me. “It’s my happy place.”

The rainbows and textures of fabrics would easily make this my happy place, too.

I wander around. There are suits, incredibly stunning corsets on mannequins, ball gowns, shirts, dresses, skirts, shorts, jackets. All of it just sitting down here.

“Do you sell all this online or do you have a store?”

Kit’s expression falls.

“KIT! Tell me you’re selling this stuff!” I almost shout. “It’s amazing!”

He looks away, and his cheeks turn a little pink.

“Why?” I ask. “It’s incredible. You are so skilled.”

I wonder if Kit’s obvious self-confidence issues are partly because his pack that isn’t a pack but secretly is a pack. That would mess with my head a lot.

I guess it messes with his, too.

“It’s just a side thing.”

I purse my lips as he turns away from me. “You want it to be more, though, right? ”

“Well, I mean, yes. But it’s just Raider’s cousin Ryn is the new lead singer of Fate’s Desire, and she wants me to dress her. So I am doing stuff with it!” His defensiveness is cute, but then my mind boggles.

Fate’s Desire?

Holy crap and then some.

I know who they are. You’d have to be living in a box not to know who they are.

“Ryn is Raider’s cousin?”

Kit nods and points to a gold and black catsuit that is both provocatively sexy and modest.

I want it.

I don’t know where I would ever wear it, but I want it so hard. “That is beautiful.”

Kit smiles.

I move closer, taking in the different textures, the mesh, leather, and satin. It’s a weird combination, but it makes for something that appears comfortable but still sinfully sexy.

It even extends to heels and built-in gloves.

“This is a work of art.”

Kit has moved close, and as soon as I register him behind me, I forget about the suit.

“Let me show you your room,” Kit murmurs.

“Let me take photos of your clothes. You don’t have to put them up online or whatever, but you’ll at least have them.”

I turn, and Kit stumbles back, blinking a couple of times. I step into his space but freeze when he steps back again. His cheeks flush, and he looks away, clearing his throat. The awkward tension that floods the room has my head spinning.

“Sorry,” he says.

I shrug. “For what? Nothing happened.” But maybe he wanted something to happen? Maybe as badly as I did.

No, no. We aren’t going there. This is short term only.

Kit’s phone trills into the silence, and, perhaps it’s because of the tension, but I don’t have a good hold on my reaction. It’s instant. I suck in a breath, recoil away from it, and look around.

Instinctive.

Stupid.

Giving away a vulnerability.

By the time I look at Kit, he’s got his phone in his hand and has declined the call. He reaches out and touches my upper arm. The warmth of his fingers can’t dispel my reaction.

I can’t escape the memories .

“Ryann?”

I shrug it off and force a smile. “Sorry. Habit. I really hate phones.”

It was a timely reminder. I can’t fall into the fantasy that this pack is. I can’t forget.

I jog up the stairs while Kit follows more slowly.

He takes me to a room that is distressingly white. Still, I force another brittle smile and thank him.

This room is situated at the front of the house and has one window with very thick blackout curtains. The queen-size bed is nice. I find my bag already up here and mentally thank Callan.

I pull out my wet coat and check everything else. My camera is fine. I’m glad I invested in several waterproof carry bags. My only spare change of clothes is filthy, so I grab them, wrap the jacket around them, and wander downstairs to where I saw a laundry.

Score.

A washing machine and dryer.

The guilt of using things that aren’t mine when I stay in people’s houses is long gone. I shove them in, set it up, and turn, almost letting out a shriek when I come face-to-face with Callan.

“I noticed you were travelling light. Kit is making you some clothes, but I ordered you a toothbrush, hairbrush, and other things you might need. They’ll arrive in an hour. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Give me your cardigan so I can feel safe for five minutes. The thought is so random and out of nowhere that I can’t find my tongue to speak.

Callan walks into the laundry room cautiously. “Hit me if you don’t want this.”

My eyes widen as he moves closer. He lifts his arms and wraps them around me. I wheeze, everything in me trembling in the wake of the simple gesture. A hug shouldn’t be this powerful. It shouldn’t rip me apart inside. It shouldn’t decimate me.

“You looked so sad. I just thought you might need one,” Callan murmurs.

I lift my arms, clinging to him, and bury my face in his chest.

Yeah, he’s right. I do need this. More than he knows.