Page 66 of Unbonded (Pack’s Companion #3)
Twelve months later
After a whirlwind tour of Europe’s top fashion houses and private art galleries, we finish our vacation at Corbus’ estate in Spain, just in time for his thirty-third birthday.
As if that isn’t magical enough, before we left New York, I hosted my first solo show for Valentine Designs.
We held it in the back room of the salon on Fifth Avenue, and while Max Colt was my primary model, Dash surprised me by strutting the catwalk in his original opening night jacket.
I thought I’d reached the pinnacle of professional pride until Bram climbed onto the stage in one of his custom-fit tuxedos and showed everyone that power and charisma never go out of style.
I’m not surprised that I’m now receiving just as many requests for jackets as ballgowns.
Dash’s production of tragic, apocalyptic love was a roaring success, with plans for a limited international tour, while Bram has graced the cover of three different financial magazines.
He’s still happiest in the boardroom of Paragon, but he’s learned to embrace his uber nature, which also works to our favor in the bedroom.
I clench my thighs as I roll over on my beach towel, the floppy hat Lachlan bought me keeping the worst of the sun from my eyes.
My fingers flutter to my scent gland, liberally coated in a special cream I’ve been developing with Grace Rose.
It’s part of a therapeutic range she’s released under her Worthy brand, and while Bram covered my scar with a mating bite the size of a lunar crater, I can still sympathize with the stigma that other unbonded face.
“Here’s another article about your show,” Lachlan tells me, tilting his iPad in my direction. “There’s a quote from the mayor’s wife, declaring it the most creative and original campaign of the season.”
I snort, since I’m pretty sure she wasn’t even at the event. One of the benefits of having a solo show was that I got to vet the guest list, so there wasn’t a Suzanna LaGrange or a Mrs. Olsen in sight.
“You’ll get sick of that by the time we leave.
” I smile at the way Dash is inhaling the blossom he plucked on the way to the beach.
Corbus wasn’t joking about the scent of orange blossom in the air – or the fact that he owns a ‘patch of beach’.
We must have different definitions of a patch, since I can’t see another person in either direction, warm sand and sparkling water spread out in front of us like our own slice of paradise.
“I’ll never get tired of it,” Dash declares, rolling the petals over the tiny triangle of my bikini. “It’s sunshine in flower form.”
“That’s Lachlan to me,” I muse, leaning over to kiss my beautiful beta mate. “If I could bottle it, I’d bathe in it.”
“Yep, he’s a very special petal,” Dash coos, then scrunches his nose at the iPad propped against the picnic basket. “Are you working on our pack vacation, QB?”
Lachlan shoots him his best innocent look. “I can multitask.”
Dash clicks his tongue and squirms up onto his knees, his chest glowing with the tan he’s somehow acquired in an afternoon on the beach. “By definition, multitasking on vacation means spitroasting Kate, not fiddling around with boring spreadsheets.”
I hum because that’s my definition, too, but Lachlan curls a protective hand around the screen. “I’m all for spitroasting Katie, but I also have to work on this business plan every chance I get.”
I run a soothing hand over Lachlan’s back, feeling the tension in his muscles.
He’s been working with Bram at Paragon for months, along with helping me with the logistics for my solo show, but his heart is set on starting his own business.
I’m sure the guys will back whatever he decides to do, but Lachlan wants to prove himself and insists on jumping through all the hoops.
“Didn’t you get the highest mark in your class back in college with that plan? ”
“I’m refining it,” he says, squinting at the screen. “There’s a difference between Professor Braun and the Head of Finance for Paragon.”
“Oooh,” Dash laughs, kicking sand in Lachlan’s direction. “QB is trying to impress his alpha.”
“My mentor ,” Lachlan growls, kicking sand back. “And my investor. Hopefully.”
Dash blows a raspberry in his direction. “You don’t need to polish your plan for that. Bram will be happy if you just polish his knot.”
“Dash!” We both squawk at the same time, although my stomach is cramping with restrained laughter.
“I’m just saying, Bram gets a certain look on his face when our beta started strutting around in his boardshorts.” He waggles his brows suggestively. “I think it’s all that jock wrestling they do in the gym. It puts a new spin on pumping iron.”
I laugh, but I have to admit, watching Bram and Lachlan make love is the kind of contact sport I can get behind.
There’s something about getting naked with our uber alpha that brings out Lachlan’s defiant streak, and while Bram usually comes out on top, Lachlan always walks away with a spring in his step.
When Dash makes a grab for the iPad, Lachlan bats his hand away with a growl. “Why are you picking on me? Katie’s been working, too.”
“Yes, but she’s not waving her business plan at me when all I want to do is suck her face.”
Lachlan goes even pinker, but his gaze has traveled back to his iPad and his eyes pop wide.
“Hold up! There’s an article in the Financial Review about the LaGrange Pack.
Seems Suzanna’s firm has had a string of bad investments and she’s in hot water with her clients.
They’re even hinting at bankruptcy.” He reads on, a dark gleam in his eyes.
“There’s special mention of Lee Morrison.
It appears that he’s being investigated for financial irregularities and could be facing jail time if convicted. ”
There’s no missing the gloating note in Lachlan’s voice, and I peer over his shoulder at the article. “You’re kidding! I mean, I shouldn’t take pleasure in someone else’s misfortune, but this feels a lot like karma biting them in the ass.”
Dash flicks his finger against the tip of my nose. “Or the Wrath of Bram.”
I bat his hand away. “The wrath of what?”
Dash leans back on his hands, a smile curving his lips. “Oh, long before he unleashed his ferocious uber identity, Bram Webber was a mild-mannered accountant who could crush your investment portfolio faster than you can say pathological revenge complex.”
“You’re nuts!” I laugh, but when he just gives me a sly shrug, I gape at him. “You really think Bram’s behind the LaGrange downfall?”
Lachlan tips his head, considering. “In a succubus verses accountant showdown, my money is on Bram.”
The guys have been calling Suzanna the succubus ever since the run-in at the after-party. I can’t resist a shiver at the memory, and Lachlan tosses his iPad aside – along with all mention of the LaGrange Pack – as they both make it their mission to warm me up in the most delicious way possible.
Later that night, I’m putting the finishing touches on my own vacation project when my alphas corner me on the balcony. There’s a very respectable office downstairs, but I can’t get enough of the ocean view, especially when it’s dappled in moonlight, and I spend a lot of time sewing on our bed.
I smell them before I hear them, that musky mix of cozy and predatory flavors that always makes my mouth water. My alphas’ scents have grown richer and more complex since our pack bonding, while mine has gone back to my natural perfume, with just a hint of sunshine spice.
“What are you doing, sweetheart?” Corbus asks, sliding in behind me and licking over his mating bite.
They’re wearing boardshorts, and I shiver, pressing back against his naked chest. It doesn’t matter if they spend the day on a boat or buried in their office, Corbus always feels like a sun-warmed rock.
“I’ve been working on a secret project,” I reply, turning so I can see both their faces.
When I have their undivided attention, I lean back against the iron railing of the balcony and tease the edge of my silk robe on my thigh.
“I suppose I should give you a private viewing, since you invested a lot of money in it.”
They exchange a heated look, Bram reaching out to press a thumb to my pulse. “You’re excited.” He runs his thumb past the V of my robe to graze a pert nipple. “And very aroused. What have you got hiding under that robe, Omega?”
I give him a sly look as I part the silk, angling my body so they get the whole moonlit effect. “As much as I like opals, I thought pink diamonds worked best for this design.”
Bram smirks, but Corbus is already dropping to his knees, his eyes glued to the tiny gems sewn into my panties. “French silk,” I tell him, running my fingers through his platinum hair. “And thirty-three pink diamonds if you count the bra and panties. One for every year you’ve been alive.”
Corbus, we are all aware, is slightly obsessed with the rare gem, and his eyes glow as he tilts his head to look up at me. I smile and brush my fingers over his slack lips. “The next time you’re feeling a little overwhelmed with all the eye contact, I've given you something else to focus on.”
The truth is, we’re all managing our quirks a lot better since our bonding. Dr. Green explained it as a side-effect of mating an uber alpha. A kind of dominance upgrade, where our senses are heightened, and our bonds are stronger.