Page 20

Fitz

No one would believe I’ve had my girl on campus over a week without making a move. But those fuckers wouldn’t realize that she’s been through a lot and even though I’m banging the shit out of Chess, I’m dealing with my blue balls.

Why?

I’m not a fucking animal—at least, not entirely. The night we met, she was brokenhearted and destroyed. When I finally revealed myself this summer, she was healing, and that fuckwit re-traumatized her. Now she’s trying to adjust to a world that wants to kill her for funsies. My baby girl isn’t quite ready to dive into the deep end of the relationship pool yet.

And taking Chess and I on definitely means something, so I don’t want to push her before she’s capable of handling us.

She doesn’t seem to mind me meandering down to her little enclave in the Tower at night or even showing up in the morning. No, the lovely Dolly laughs and continues getting ready while I putz about her room and jabber. It’s kind of comfortable and besides Chess, I don’t think I’ve been that close to anyone that’s not my twin before. I like it, though I’d like it a hell of a lot more if it followed sexy morning time.

Being a good guy is a pain in my tight ass.

That’s why I’m not worried about dropping by her room without texting. She knows I’m keyed to her floor and hasn’t once complained that I come and go as I please. Occasionally I catch her in a delicious state of undress—which I’m hoping to now—and she turns a shade of pink I’m sure matches her nipples.

Dear Bast, please let her nipples be that rosy shade and I’ll try not to scare the sheep for at least a week.

Seems like a good deal, right?

Smirking to myself, I whistle as I enter the Tower from the front, following the path the two ancients prescribed for my girl to her floor. It’s likely the rest of my friends are upstairs grouching about the day, but I’m eager to see my girl. I’ll pop upstairs to check in after I’ve taken a dive in her sweet scent for a bit. They won’t miss me, anyway. Chess can hold down the fort.

The room is dark when I fling open the door, and I frown. It’s dinnertime; where the hell is she? Pulling out my phone, I prepare to fire off a concerned text whether or not I’m over my daily limit. It’s not overbearing when it’s out of concern, right?

Fuck it, I don’t care. I’m doing it.

That’s when I hear laughter. Not in her room, but filtering through the drafty old structure’s vents. I move down the hall to the staircase, knowing the acoustics are better in the long, empty stone paths.

“… so I told them all to go to the library to get the books they’d need for the reading. He’s going to explode!”

My lips curve when I realize it’s Renard. Since the target of his joke has to be the spicy lizard, my brother and Chess must be upstairs. I grin a little because I enjoy poking at the dragon, but his OG BFF Renard is the tits at it. He knows how to get that scaly asshole going like no one I know, and he doesn’t even get his tail fried off for it. Normally, I’d head up to join their tête-à-tête, but I really wanted to see my baby girl first.

Wait a tick.

If the winged wonder set Aubrey up to have a library filled with students after classes, he’d need help. He’s not good with crowds anyway and that skinny chicken who works for him doesn’t stay after dark. Now I know why my girl’s not here—fucking Aubrey has her running her tail off because of Renard.

My eyes narrow and I ponder stomping upstairs to kick the gargoyle’s ass. That won’t work because he’s goddamn enormous if he shifts. I could go beat the dragon’s ass, but he’d roast me like a pig on a spit. Not that I’d ever in a million years admit that either of those senior shifters could best the entire staff at Apex without breaking a sweat on their stupid wings.

Being able to fly and having other badass abilities is cheating.

Growling under my breath, I stalk back to my girl’s room and yank open the door. If I can’t get satisfaction through violence, I’ll have to satisfy my needs in other ways.

I bet if I hunt long enough, I’ll find her diary.

That would definitely tell me where she is on the ready to get freaky scale. Chicks always confide in their journals and shit, right? That’s how I’ll know if I can make my move.

Fitz Khan is on the hunt.

Having feline night vision is rad. I leave the lights off as I let my tiger guide me by scent, rifling through my woman’s drawers and smirking at some of the decidedly not innocent garments in them. She may not be ready for everything we can offer—yet—but she’s thinking about it. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have scraps of lace and strappy shit that makes my cock throb.

Once I finish examining her clothes, I move to the bathroom. She has the usual assortment of chick shit, including a massive amount of beauty products that I’m not sure she uses. Dolly does dramatic eye makeup, but she doesn’t cake it on, so some of these look superfluous? Hell if I know. I doubt anything would make her look less pretty, and if she used all of it, who am I to judge?

I prefer women who make their own decisions, not ones who want to please assholes like me.

The selection of shampoos and body washes smell heavenly, but none of them carries the honeysuckle that emanates from her like it’s calling to me. That must be all her, and when I noticed the toy stuck to the back wall of the shower, I almost lose it. It’s not small, though if I had to guess, it’s about Chess sized. He’s average but nice and thick, but she’s going to have to get used to me and Felix being bigger.

I shudder to think what those winged fuckers are packing. They don’t shift in front of us because of their weird secretive shit.

Grinning to myself, I leave the bathroom with a raging hard-on and a bounce in my step. That discovery makes me want to do a little more ’research’ as I look for an old-fashioned diary in her shit. My eyes scan the room and I saunter past her desk and bookshelves—too obvious for secrets or dirty stuff. Moving to the closet, I open the door, poking through sexy clothes, the new fitted uniforms I had delivered, and various shoes.

No hidden compartments or stowed boxes with delightful contents in here.

I glare in frustration. There’s no way I’m wrong about this—according to Felix, her ex-friends are super bitches and everyone knows what tools her parents are. I highly doubt a girl as smart as ours would store her thoughts in a hackable digital format. No, she definitely poured her soul out on paper and she’s skillfully hidden it because she’s always had to. The keyboard catches my gaze and a lightbulb goes off.

Chess said she’s definitely been a singer for a long time, though no one nurtured it. Maybe she keeps her heart in lyric books? Her parents would never look at that, nor would nosy little shits pretending to be her friend. I stalk to the bench in front of the instrument, lifting the lid to see a plethora of sheet music with scribbled melodies and lyrics. It only takes a glance to confirm these are full of her feelings about shit, so I snap pictures for later before I close it.

My baby girl can’t fault me for wanting to get to know her, right?

I mean, obviously I’m right. I’m Fitzgerald Khan, enforcer of the Khan ambush. No one would dare to correct me or I’ll—I pause for a minute when a noise in the Tower catches my sensitive ears. Probably just the guys arriving upstairs from wherever those two asswads have been hiding.

The lid closes with a snap, and I prowl over to the bed. I left it for last because it’s the most likely place she’s hiding the sin bin. Who wouldn’t want their box of orgasm assistance close enough to grab without leaving the comfort of your pillows? Bending down, I look under the tall bed frame, frowning when I only see slippers. I squint, pulling open the bottom drawer of the nightstand and growl when I see nothing.

It has to be here.

Before I can explore more, the sound of stomping boots and cursing echoes in the hallway. That’s her coming home, and she sounds all lathered up. I don’t know if that benefits me or not, but perhaps surprising her will make her giggle. She teases me about my stalking anyway and it sounds like she could use a laugh.

To the closet, I go …

Settling into the tight squeeze of her clothes and shit, I wait with a smirk. I’m going to pop out after she has her little tantrum, and she’ll immediately be happy again. After all, who wouldn’t love finding me in their room? I know preds who would sell their souls to find me creeping around their private chambers, and I never gave a fuck enough to do it to them.

I watch through the slats as she stomps in, turns on the low light lamps instead of the overhead ones, and kicks off her boots. Her tiny skirt bounces against her upper thighs as she walks to the bathroom, humming something under her breath and shaking her booty a bit. It occurs to me I should have been doing this before I curse myself for missing shows the previous week. The sound of water tells me she’s washing up and I stroke my pulsing cock lightly, hoping it will calm down a bit.

Seems to be a lost cause since I met this girl, but a guy can try, right?

“Giant fucking bat asshole using us to torture the other big dickwhistle like we’re his personal serfs. I mean, honestly… grown fucking men… ancient ones… and I get called in on a day I don’t work to help morons find poems. I should invade their stupid off-limits Tower spaces and move everything around to teach them a fucking lesson…”

Oh, I like vengeful on my girl; it’s sexy as fuck.

“… not going to add them to the list, though. That’s for evil fuckers and this is just jerky shit. But I’m definitely getting them back,” Dolly mutters and then I see her plop on the bed.

She peels the blouse off, tossing it towards a hamper with a perfect arc that lands it in the opening. I’d be impressed, but I can’t take my eyes off the white lace contraption she’s wearing now. It’s got lace and straps and some sort of rings… hell, if I know what it’s called, but I want to remove it with my teeth—slowly.

I’m about to give myself up so I can see it better when she flops back on the bed, wiggling until her whole body is horizontal on the giant mattress. It gives me a perfect view of her boobs and I squeeze my dick as they rise and fall with her breaths.

“Stupid hot know-it-all dragon,” she mutters as she stretches deliciously. “And after that freaking torture whispered in Lit…” Her hands drift down her body to her abs and my eyes widen.

If I was a cartoon character, my tongue would loll out and roll over the floor. I think she’s going to…

Those perfect pink fingernails slide down to toy with her belly ring for a minute and I have to bite back a groan. “How the hell am I supposed to focus on anything when that asshole tiger keeps throwing out sexy innuendo during class? Calling him ‘Sir’ is hard enough because it reminds me of all those crusty old farts that are friends with my parents. But maybe if he changed it to…”

Changed it to what?!! Felix is going to die when I tell him about this.

I should be jealous because her hand is sliding lower into the strappy white matching panties while thinking of my brother. But who the fuck cares? My plan has always been to share her with my ambush and hearing she’s distracted by the others is utter perfection.

All I need now is for her to say the magic words…