Page 17 of Unbonded (Pack’s Companion #3)

“Aren’t they going to wonder where we are?

” I ask Dash as he leads me down a carpeted corridor, his hand clasped tightly around mine.

His alphas went off to sort drinks, and the next thing I knew, Dash was inviting me to see his dance studio.

As captivating as I found the view from the terrace, the chance to see his inner sanctum was too good to miss.

“I don’t want them to think I’m being rude. ”

Corbus especially, since I’m already tongue-tied and awkward around him.

My knees almost buckled when the elevator doors opened and I saw him standing next to Dash, his cedarwood scent rising off his skin like a perfume made just for me.

My heart thumped so hard I could feel it against my ribs, but he just gave me that same polite smile from the hotel, like I was no more interesting than the potted palm in the hallway.

“They’ll sniff us out,” Dash assures me, pushing open the door to his studio. I follow him inside and he turns in a half-pirouette to give me a dazzling smile. “Enough mirrors for you to work your magic?”

I snort, hanging the garment bag over one of the three ballet barres in the room.

It’s fitted out with everything a dancer might need, including hardwood floors, dimmer lights, and a state-of-the-art sound system mounted above the wraparound mirrors.

They provide a perfect view of Dash’s lean form as he joins me beside the ballet barre, his left leg lifting in a sensuous stretch.

I try not to ogle the long line of his thigh muscles or the graceful arch of his back, but I’m pretty sure I fail miserably.

“Corbus converted it,” he tells me as he starts to stretch his right leg. “Saves me from running across the city every day to practice.”

“They take good care of you,” I murmur, crossing the room to look through the big bay window at the courtyard below.

The entire building is an Art Deco homage, and I tell myself that’s why I feel a pinch of envy at Dash’s good fortune.

It has nothing to do with the way his alphas cater to his every need, or light up every time they catch sight of him.

“Yep, but they also look after each other,” Dash says, and when I turn towards him, his eyes are gleaming in the low light. “In every way, which is probably why the hot chocolate never materialized.”

“You mean… they’re together?” I can’t hide my surprise – or the arousal that tingles through me. I’ve always been fascinated by pack dynamics, but it didn’t occur to me that Dash’s alphas might also be intimate. “Lee never…”

I swallow the rest of the comment, because what would Lee know about it, anyway?

He always had a vicious competitive streak when it came to his friends.

In fact, Lachlan was a common target in college, and more than once I heard Lee bitching about being beaten by a beta.

At the time, I thought it was just football rivalry, but now I realize that Lee is threatened by anyone who can see below his glossy surface.

“Hey, are you okay?” A gentle hand touches my arm, and Dash looks at me with concern. “We don’t have to do this now.”

“No, I’m good,” I reassure him as I grab the garment bag. “But keep in mind that it’s just a mock-up at this stage. I’ll need one more fitting before it’s ready to wear.”

He nods, and I unzip the bag, pulling out the test garment.

I’ll only cut the final fabric when I have the precise measurements, so for now I fit the muslin jacket over his torso, making sure my hands don’t linger on his bare skin.

Not that I need to be touching him to be affected by his nearness.

Dash exudes the kind of charisma that’s jaw-dropping on stage and mouth-watering up close.

It takes every ounce of my professionalism to work around him, measuring and pinning, while he follows my movements with his dark, intense eyes.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says when I’ve made the last adjustments and slipped the mock up back into the garment bag. “Are you really okay to stay the night?”

I smile as I scoop my sewing kit off the floor. “Bram kind of insisted. My place is getting a remodel, and he didn’t think it was safe.”

I glance up to catch Dash’s scowl and realize I’m still crouched at his feet.

Flustered, I stand too quickly, my head spinning at the rush.

I’m not sure who reaches out first, but then Dash’s arm is around me, his smooth chest warm against my palm.

It’s suddenly hard to catch my breath, especially when he touches my chin, tilting my face up to his.

“Then I get to keep you. For tonight, at least.”

I nod, watching in a daze as his lips descend towards mine.

I want that kiss with every atom in my body, but my conscience forces a hand between us, his mouth landing on my palm.

“I’m sorry, but I need to tell you something.

About Bram.” I’ve been dreading this moment, but now the words come out of me in a frantic gush.

“I climbed on him in the car and sucked his scent gland.”

Instead of looking angry, Dash’s dark eyes dance and I can feel the vibration of his laughter on my palm as he asks, “And did he return the favor?”

I flinch, because why would he? No one wants to look at the scar tissue on my throat, let alone touch it. “He didn’t do anything wrong. It was all me.”

Dash’s slender fingers encircle my wrist, but instead of pushing me away, he draws my hand over his shoulder and around to the back of his neck.

His silky hair tickles my fingers, as he leans down to my ear and murmurs, “There’d be something wrong with you if you didn’t want to suck on him. He’s delectable .”

“He is.”

Why argue, when I can still taste his scent on my tongue?

Dash gives an approving hum as he brushes his nose along my cheek. “Did you know he’s an uber?”

“He told me.” He pulls back slightly, and I feel the color burn down my neck and shoulders at his heavy-lidded gaze. “I thought it was just something out of comic books, but it makes sense. He’s like you. Larger than life.”

“Mmm.” He brushes a hand down my side, curling his fingers over my hip. “He’s a big guy, that’s for sure.”

I’m pretty sure he means a particular part of his anatomy, since ubers are supposed to have permanent knots. I definitely felt something pressing against me when I climbed into his lap, but since he didn’t exactly invite me there, I push the memory from my mind. “You’re not mad?”

Dash gives a soft chuckle and feathers his fingers along my waist. “It’s hot as hell thinking about you with Bram.

Your curves and his muscles... they’re a match made in heaven.

” He bites his lip. “I’d like to see you with all of us, if I’m honest. But I’m not pushing for anything.

It can just be my little fantasy, if that’s what you want. ”

He’s wound a tendril of hair around his finger, and I shiver at the brush of his knuckles on my hot cheek.

We’re so close I can taste his floral-scented breath on my lips, and while I want to soak him up like a thirsty flower, I’m still confused.

“But why would you want that? The omegas I know don’t share.

They take , especially when it comes to alphas. ”

Dash makes a rude sound, but I can see the sympathy in his eyes.

He knows I speak from hard-earned experience.

“It’s not just about the guys. I like women, and I felt a connection with you in that hotel room.

I was attracted to you, but I wanted this, too.

To talk to you, and find out what’s going on behind those gorgeous, gray eyes.

” It’s been so long since anyone paid me any kind of compliment, I’m left speechless, and he gives another soft chuckle.

“I also love the way you look at me. People stare, but you kind of melt. It’s addicting. ”

“I can’t help it,” I reply with an embarrassed little groan. “I’m like a sunflower, chasing you across the sky.”

The problem with melting? Everything leaks out, including all the neediness I should probably try to hide.

Cool your jets, Kate. Fangirling is only attractive from a distance, after all.

But another part of me doesn’t want to hide how I’m feeling. I know what happens to dreamers who fly too high and want too much, but Dash makes me feel reckless. If I’m going to burn out, what better way to go than in his arms?

But maybe I’ve said too much, because Dash takes a careful step back, his hand sliding down to my elbow. It’s like turning away from a campfire to face the bitter night air, and I brace myself for the letdown.

“Don’t look so sad, sweet girl,” he croons, brushing a thumb over my down-turned lips. “I’m just going to show you to your room. It’s late, and you’re exhausted.”

He’s right. With the tension easing between us, it’s like someone has sliced through my strings.

I nod, my head feeling too heavy for my neck, and follow him down the hall into a guest bedroom.

The centerpiece is a beautiful bed draped in plum and lilac velvet, with ornate nightstands on each side, and a black-and-gold dresser against the wall.

There’s a crystal and brass chandelier above the bed, and a lavender silk rug on the floor, and it’s not hard to picture Dash stretched out on the cover of an Art Deco magazine.

“It’s a dream room.”

Dash beams at me, then crosses to the nightstand with a chuckle. “Looks like the guys made the beverages, after all.” He picks up a note next to the steaming cup of hot chocolate and waves it in my direction. “For you.”

I take the stiff card and read it, my brows shooting up in surprise. “I’ve never got a breakfast invitation on personalized stationery before.”

“Corbus does everything with a certain panache. You’ll get used to it, I promise.”