Page 95 of Their Lethal Pet

The aroma is fine. It’s flawless, in fact. But the organization…

No. It needs… hmm.

I pick up a towel—one that has Flame’s scent on it—and set it by the pillows. Then I grab a shirt—Orcus’s—and carefully lay it over the towel.

Nodding, I snatch up a robe and inhale.Smoky tendrils. Ash. Campfire.That’s definitely Reaper. I set the fabric on top of the others and knead it all into a wall of sorts along the back of my pillow and the pillow beside mine.

Tapping my chin, I realize something is still missing and glance down at the cotton wrapped around my torso.

I rip it off my body and curl it around the wall I’vecreated, making something that almost looks like a long body pillow.

When I lean forward and inhale, I smile. “Perfect.” But I need more.

Glancing around the room, I frown, realizing I don’t have anything else to pad the bed with. Only my sheets, and those… those are where they should be.

Frowning, I slip off the bed and turn toward the closet again.

And freeze.

Because Orcus, Flame, and Reaper are all standing inside the door, gaping at me.

I stare back at them, blinking.

“Is she building a nest?” Reaper asks, gesturing to the bed.

“Yeah,” Orcus replies, swallowing.

“Cool,” Reaper says, nodding. “I very much approve of the whole naked part of the experience.”

My eyes widen as I glance down, suddenly remembering that I took off my towel to… to… do whatever the hell I was just doing.

“So when does the heat part begin, again?” Reaper drawls as I dive into the bed and pull the blankets over me.

Like, all the way over me.

Covering my head.

And holding on to the comforter for dear life.

What the heck is wrong with me? What was I even doing? And why—why—does it still smell so good in here?I groan, my nipples hardening at the fragrance engulfing me from head to toe.

Because it’s them.

These fae.

Thesemen.

I’m practically drunk on their cologne, the vision of aperfect day hitting me once more.Wandering the mountain side. Heat on my shoulders and arms. Trees swaying in a gentle breeze.

I whimper, lost to the daydream and mortified at the same time.

“Alina,” Orcus says softly, the mattress shifting as he joins me on the bed.

Only, he’s not lying down; he’s sitting. And he’s not touching me either.

I wait for the others to join us, but it’s Orcus’s cologne that overpowers the room.Did they leave?I wonder.Or are they still watching from the doorway?

Oh, fae.Heat creeps up my neck.Howlongwere they watching?