Page 6

Chapter 5

Under a Spell

Titus

R eturning to the Estate feels like returning to school after being suspended. You don’t want to be there, but you have to be. Just like they don’t really want you back, but they have to let you.

I can’t wait to be done with this place forever. All I want is to see it burn through my rearview mirror.

They’ll be time enough for that, but now, it’s time for dinner.

My stomach growls as I reach for the big dining hall doors.

I’m expecting it even before I push them open. The eyes, the silence, the attention. And sure enough, I’m right.

We walk in, and it’s like pulling the plug on a stereo. Rumbling conversation halts as all eyes shift immediately to us. Their stares are all varying degrees of suspicion and curiosity. Some of the other packs are looking at us like they still believe we killed the Cyan. Others have a look of sick fascination, as if searching for cracks, seeing if the “swift consequences” left any weak points they can exploit.

Fucking vultures.

Paisley’s hand flies into the air to wave to us, breaking the torturous tension. Griffin and Noah shoot us some head nods. To my surprise, Sinclair is the one to roll her shoulders back and lead the way over to them with confident strides— proud strides.

She’s proud of us.

The realization makes me hold my head up as we walk down the aisle. I already refused to show any discomfort under their predatory gazes, but now I actually feel the confidence I was fronting.

Our lack of acknowledgment must bore the assholes because conversation and sounds of cutlery on plates resume before we even reach the table. I sit down, feeling smug at the small win.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Paisley asks in a rushed voice, then shakes her head and rolls her eyes at herself. “Of course, you’re not okay. What a nightmare, I’m so sorry—” She throws her arms around Sinclair, pulling her across the bench seat into a tight hug.

I don’t even register the small growl I make at their embrace until Ecker looks at me in question. I try to pull it off as clearing my throat and quickly say to Griffin, “Thanks for keeping us up-to-date.”

“Course,” he says before diving back into his food.

Paisley unwraps her arms from Sinclair. “But your grandmother is gonna make it, right?”

“Yeah, it’s looking like it,” Sinclair says with a small, hopeful smile.

“Thank god. I can’t believe they would go after an old lady to begin with, but to do it before any investigation . . .”

Ecker scoffs, “I can.”

Paisley winces. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Hey, is this a tattoo?” Sinclair points to Paisley’s collarbone, where her ceremonial carvings now look like they’re inked in black. I get the feeling she’s trying to change the subject. I don’t blame her. I’d rather stick my dick in lava than talk about the crash that killed my parents and the lengths the Echelon will go to.

“Oh, um, sorta.” She gets a bashful look and glances at Maverick before answering. “I didn’t get a tattoo per se . . . . It didn’t change after I bonded with Noah, but after Mav and me, my carvings filled themselves in.” Sitting across from Sinclair, I can see how her eyebrows raise, and Paisley reassures her. “But don’t worry, it was practically painless. Nothing like the ceremony.”

Sinclair’s eyes dart to mine with a flash of heat, making my stomach stir and my pulse jump, but then she quickly blurts out, “Oh, I’m not worried about that.”

Ecker gets the same suspicious look on his face that he got at my earlier growl. His eyes bounce between the two of us. “You’re not? It’s bound to happen sooner or later.” While his last sentence isn’t a question, there’s a definite prying tone to it.

Sinclair forces an overly light chuckle and picks up a tray of green beans, diverting eye contact. “Mm, this looks good!”

When Ecker lifts his eyebrows at me for a response, I take a card out of her playbook and slap a pork chop onto my plate, adding dryly, “ Yum. ”

“Well, you guys deserve a nice relaxing night after everything,” Paisley says as staff clear our plates. “What are you going to do—oh! You should borrow our projector.”

“You just casually have a projector? ” Bishop asks incredulously.

“Yes, Bishop, some of us enjoy the cinema, ” she teases with a fake posh lilt. He laughs as we all get up from the long table.

Our two packs walk together until the hall splits toward our different wings. “You wanna come over now to grab the projector?” Paisley asks Sinclair.

“Yeah, sure.”

I hear Bishop and Ecker whispering to each other behind me. The hairs on the back of my neck prickle. I can’t help but feel like they’re talking about me. I’m just overthinking everything. Or maybe not thinking at all because the only thing my mind seems full of is a flashing slideshow of last night.

Sinclair’s bikini top dropping to the floor, her shirt pulled teasingly between her legs.

The way her cheeks flushed when I described the way I would have fucked Majestic, pretending it was her.

The scent and sound of her orgasm crashing into her as she worked herself higher and higher at my instruction.

Her heaving chest and moans choked with pleasure as I came all over her perfect pussy and stomach—

“You should go with her.”

I whip around at Ecker’s voice, half startled, like I was shaken out of a dream. “Huh?”

“You should go with Sin to get the projector.”

Is he testing me? But to what end? I’ve been with Ecker all day, so I know she hasn’t told them what happened between us.

I give him a what are you trying look. He just smirks out of the corner of his mouth then walks away, toward our wing.

“You coming?” Griffin flicks his chin down the hall. 1

I catch Sinclair’s waiting gaze, and I swear to fucking god, I feel my cheeks heat. I make a weak grunt of agreement and start walking.

Paisley starts talking to Griffin, and I fall in step with Sinclair. I try to discreetly inhale her scent, not prepared for the wave of disappointment I feel when I can’t smell my cum on her anymore. She must have showered at the bungalow.

A part of me can’t believe last night was real, and I’m scared I’ll forget the intoxicating way our scents mingled, that I might not ever get to see her painted like mine again.

I steal a side glance at her and catch her hand between us flex . . . like she wants to reach for me . . . hold my hand.

My muscles still ache from this morning, but fuck if I’m not tempted to close the gap.

I just want to . . . touch her.

God, what I wouldn’t give for even the lightest brush of her skin on mine to be painless.

Suddenly, her eyes cut to mine and my pulse jumps from feeling caught, as if she can hear my yearning. But she doesn’t look away. No, her gaze canvases my face longingly, like it’s something she’s missed.

“What movie do you want to watch?” Her question is so innocuous, innocent, but her voice sounds huskier, and I know if I answer, I’ll have the same desperate desire in mine, so I just shrug.

“I feel like Ecker is a rom-com guy,” she adds.

I laugh at the unexpected but very true statement. “He’s been known to watch made-for-TV Christmas movies year-round.”

“I knew it.” She chuckles as the Berylls let us into their wing.

The bones are the same as ours, but everything inside makes it look completely different. The fine wood furniture is polished and gleaming with the diffused light from several antique lamps, one of which probably costs more than everything I own. Their couch is sprawling and velvet, complete with plush cushions and luxuriously soft looking blankets. There’s even a hand-painted mural of forget-me-nots on one wall.

“The projector is in there.” Griffin points to a closet. “I’ll get the sheet down.”

I help him take down the white sheet pinned to the wall, while Sinclair goes to the closet.

When we get it down and folded, Sinclair is still out of sight in the closet, so I go see what’s holding her up.

I find her stretched on her tiptoes on top of two stacked shoeboxes, trying to reach the top shelf.

She hears me and turns around with a huff. “I think I need your help.”

Her back seems to press against the shelves as I step closer, but she doesn’t get down from the boxes. Instead, she meets my stare and swallows.

With the added inches, she’s less than a head taller than me. She releases a breathy exhale when I get so close our noses almost touch.

“Sure thing, Omega,” I say, barely above a whisper, eyes fixated on the way her lips part ever so slightly, just enough for her tongue to flick out and wet her lip.

I reach above her, letting my arm rest on the shelf that is just out of her reach. I look down at her breasts rising and falling with every breath, and my pants grow tight.

“Thank you, Alpha,” she rasps, and a quiet but rumbly growl escapes me yet again.

I lean in farther, testing the limits. How close can I get without actually touching her?

Close enough I feel the heat radiate off her blushing cheeks. Close enough I feel her increasing breaths feather against my neck.

“You and closets, hmm?” I mutter, falling under her spell.

“I promise to be quiet,” she whispers right when my hand wraps around the projector, as if daring me to forget about the movie and say “fuck it” right here.

“I resent the implication that I wouldn’t want you screaming just as loud for me as you did for my brothers,” I drawl, my voice like hot coals. Her eyelids flutter, and I swear she fucking shivers. I hold my breath, anticipation lighting up my spine.

Before she can respond, Paisley breaks the spell by shouting from the common room, “Did you find it?” I pull the projector off the shelf and step back.

Who am I kidding?

Nothing can break this spell.

1. “More Of U” by Sami The Collector