Page 89 of Monsterland Mayhem

“Correct. He’s pretending to be the Silver King.”

“Yet you call him the Crimson King because Crimson is his real name…?” I phrase it as a question.

“Crimson is his last name,” he murmurs. “Like Silver is Krolic’s last name. They’re rival wolf packs.”

“My mother chose the Silver mate-circle,” a deep voice adds as Krolic enters the bathroom with a tray. “And the Crimson mate-circle never forgave her for it.”

Catum kneels before me as he begins lathering suds along my legs. I shudder when his touch moves inward over my inner thighs and up to my sensitive flesh. “Are you sore, Miss Marvel?” he asks softly.

I swallow and shake my head. “No.” That was evident when he shoved his fingers inside me a bit ago. I wasn’t sore at all.

“Another sign of your changing genetics,” he murmurs, leaning forward to kiss me right on the clit. “You’re no longer an ordinary human, sweet one.”

I nearly fall backward when he kisses me again.

Only, he doesn’t continue, just simply leans back on his heels and resumes soaping up every inch of me.

“Is she questioning her Omega status?” Krolic asks, one eyebrow arching high. “Because I am more than happy to prove her wrong again.”

“She’s conflicted on what it means to be human and an Omega,” Catum tells him before reaching around to my backside. “She’s learning, though. Right, Miss Marvel?”

“Yes, Master Pillar,” I reply on an exhale.

He smiles up at me and winks. Then stands and helps me rinse.

“Next time we shower, I’m going to help you shave,” he says against my ear. “While I appreciate your groomed pussy, I really want to see you bare.”

My cheeks flame in response to his unexpected words, then heat even more as he presses a kiss to my pulse.

He’s behind me with his chest to my back, allowing me to feel his hardness against my ass. His heat is reminiscent of a brand, his touch filled with promise.

Yet he merely walks around me to wash himself off, giving me a glorious display of all his muscles while he cleans himself off and washes his hair.

Part of me wants to offer to help, but he’s a good foot taller than me, and there doesn’t appear to be a bench or a stepping stool in the shower.

By the time he turns off the water, I’m panting. But all he does is wrap me up in a towel and pass me over to Krolic, who is waiting with the food.

He brings something red to my mouth that I accept without studying it. Flavor bursts on my tongue, the savory bite reminding me of tomato soup. Except it’s chilled.

Catum finishes drying himself off, his white towel low across his hips as he saunters toward me to feed me the next bite.

Grilled cheese, I think, moaning in delight. It’s one of my favorite meals from back home, a meal I rarely made because the kitchen wasn’t mine to use. But sometimes I snuck in to fry up a cheese sandwich and steal leftover soup.

Krolic would know this since I often brought it with me outside to eat in private.

It’s a simple thing, but an important one. Because it drives home what Catum has been saying—these men know me.

Not in the conventional sense.

But that’s okay.

I like unconventional.

I likethem—Catum, Krolic, and Craze.

“So what’s the plan?” I ask Catum and Krolic. “What’s next?”

Because I want to understand everything. Understand them. Understand my choices. Understand the future, the present…the ritual.