Page 14 of Wolf.e (The Soldiers of Bedlam #1)

Brinley

I’m drunk. Drunker than I think I’ve ever been.

Is it a good idea to get this drunk in the face of something traumatic? Probably not, but I did anyway against the better judgement screaming in my head. The good thing about being this drunk is that it’s a lot easier to tell that voice to shut the hell up.

We’ve been dancing for hours, or so it feels like. I haven’t seen Wolfe or any of the other guys that were at our table for a while. I’m sweaty and I have to pee. Another drink wouldn’t hurt either.

“Where’s the bathroom?” I call to Layla over the music. She just smiles and gives me directions. I repeat them in my head so I don’t forget. Fourth door on the left…or was it right?

It’s loud now and there are people everywhere. I can’t make sense of this night or how I’m in this situation. I’ll just make it through, and tomorrow the familiarity of home will make me think straight and I can make an excuse to Layla to avoid her wedding. There’s not a chance in hell I’m going.

I stumble through the bar area in search of this elusive hallway to the bathroom.

I smooth out my dress and hair, trying to walk as straight as possible.

I’m either seeing things or crazy shit is happening around here.

There is a woman laying on one of the pool tables as I walk by and another is taking a lime out from between her breasts with her teeth and people are making out… everywhere.

I watch a sitting man slide his large hands up under a women’s black leather skirt as she stands in front of him.

He squeezes her ass. I can’t see him behind her body, only his big hands that seem to take up all of her flesh.

He lifts her skirt right up over her ass and he slides her thong aside as she tips her head back and moans, absolutely zero shame.

He pulls her closer and slides his legs between hers, two boot-clad feet holding her legs apart then shoves two fingers into her pussy right out in the open.

My mouth falls slack as I watch. I need to look away but I…

don’t. I feel heat start to coil between my legs at the vision before me.

My hand travels slowly up from my chest, over my throat to my lips, I try to feel the shock I know I should, but I don’t.

This is wrong. I shouldn’t be watching them.

But I simply can’t help the heat rushing over me.

The woman moans as he viciously thrusts his fingers into her, and I think I hear him tell her to take them like a good little slut . When his face comes into view over her shoulder, I’m shocked to see that it’s Kai. The sweet, clean cut looking one? He grins…and damn. I did not expect that.

“I’ve got another hand, new girl, if you’re interested,” he says as I blink, realizing I’m standing right in front of them, staring.

He chuckles as I begin to move quickly toward the only hallway I see and push through a swinging door to get to it.

It’s quieter here and darker. Four doors down for the bathroom or five?

It’s a little fuzzy. I decide to push open every door along the way.

I’m mostly greeted with unkempt spaces that look like bedrooms. I find the bathroom mercifully.

I probably couldn’t have held it much longer.

I wash my hands with what is actually really nice soap. I giggle.

Things you notice when you’re drunk for a thousand, please.

I fix myself up as best I can before heading back out to the hall.

Miraculously, my makeup is still fairly intact.

When I get into the dark hallway, I look both ways trying to remember which direction I came from.

I hear moaning in the distance and the heat continues to flush through me.

What the hell is wrong with me? Why is this torrid place turning me on like this?

I decide to go right and pass the first doorway. It has a licence plate screwed to the door that reads, “ For those who like to fuck .”

Apparently, the people inside like to, judging by the sounds.

A light catches my eye in the otherwise dark hall. It’s coming from underneath a door at the end.

I don’t listen to my conscience, instead I listen to the little dark voice in my head telling me to go as I push it open.

The space is large and spotless. A massive American flag with an eagle in the center graces the wall.

It’s pinned straight and taut over a comfortable looking, worn in leather sofa.

The floors are dark wood and shiny clean.

It smells like cedarwood. There is a kitchen area at the back, it’s almost like a studio apartment of sorts.

The other side of the wide open space has a solid wood divider.

I venture behind like I have permission, telling myself it’s perfectly fine that I’m snooping in this stranger’s space.

A bigger than normal king-size bed made impeccably with dark gray bedding and ten feet of bookshelves lined with books catches my eye.

My mouth falls open as I move toward them and take in some of the titles, running my fingers along the spines as I go.

As a girl who always liked to read the classics, this is impressive.

The Art of War

Fire in The Belly

A collection of very old looking Machiavellis.

The Great Gatsby

The Beautiful and Damned

1984

And the shelves continue, lined with classic works of literature.

I stand there running a finger over them taking in the other items. Photos catch my eye.

They’re of Wolfe and Sean and other men in beige fatigues head to toe.

Even their helmets are beige. I flip them over to see if there is any info on the back.

FIELD LIGHTS 2009, ROARING LION 2010, EAGLES TRACE 2012

All of them say 2nd Battalion 9th.

Missions?

Some are in casual settings; some look like they’re on-duty photos.

I trace a line down Wolfe’s face in one of them, white T-shirt covered in dust, he’s so tan his skin looks unrecognizable, and he holds a very scary looking gun on a table in front of him like he’s cleaning it.

He has a lot less ink in these photos than now, but that same emotionless gaze haunts his eyes.

The gaze of a man who’s seen it all.

I move on and pull a copy of The Great Gatsby out and skim my fingers over the weathered spine, flipping it over. The eyes in the solid blue cover pierce mine. I haven’t seen this edition before and I instantly know it’s very old. I open it and read the handwritten note on the inside cover.

“To my fierce protector, always keep your world view bigger than our backyard,” and a heart under it.

“Why are you here?” a deep voice booms. The deep voice that sends shivers up the back of my neck.

I spin around and fall backward against the shelf, making it rattle.

Wolfe stands just ten feet away from me. He’s freshly showered, his hair loose, touching his ears in wet strands, and he’s wearing a clean black T-shirt and black jeans. He holds his cut in his hand. I take in his corded inked forearms, rippled with veins as he swipes his hair back.

I open my mouth, but I have nothing to say. There’s no way around this, I’m totally busted snooping in his room.

But honestly, who am I kidding? I knew the moment I saw the photos this was either his space or Ax’s. I’m still holding his book, for God’s sake.

“I asked what you’re doing here, I don’t ask twice,” he repeats, tossing his cut onto his bed in a slow intentional drop, his voice a deep velvet that both speeds my heart rate up and calms it all at the same time.

“I just…um, the light was on, I thought it was the way out,” I offer lamely as a flush creeps up my neck. “I mean, you’re the one who left the door wide open so it’s kind of your fault,” I add, trying to sound as confident as I can.

Wolfe moves toward me before I can say another word, closing the short distance between us in just two strides. I glance up at him towering over me. So close. Dangerously close.

He raises a hand, and I can’t help it, I flinch, afraid he might hurt me.

Wolfe studies my reaction with a hint of a smirk and embarrassment floods my chest, yet he continues, letting the back of his knuckles run over my cheekbone then down to the column of my throat. He’s touching me. I just met this man today and he’s touching me.

He pauses with his knuckles at the nape of my neck, feeling my thundering heartbeat under his fingers.

“There’s that smart mouth again. You use it freely, yet you’re terrified, little hummingbird.

” His eyes meet mine as he flips his hand and grips my throat.

His palm covers all of it and I understand instantly why he’s given me that name…

he can see and feel my heart beating a million miles a minute.

His fingers slide back into my hair, the pads of them trace my scalp before he grabs a fist full and pulls my neck taut, bringing my body forward to him so we’re flush, and I have nowhere to look but into his gray eyes.

Does he think I came here to have sex with him? Instinct takes over and I reach up and smack him in the face. The sound tells me it was hard, but I think it hurts me more than it hurts him, because he doesn’t even flinch.

He grips my hair tight enough for me to cry out. It burns like he’s ripping it out at the roots.

“And here I thought you were ready to shed this perfectly practiced little exterior…but now, I see. The hummingbird just wants to fight…” he growls, a sadistic light fills his eyes and for the first time I see emotion there.

I swing again, knowing he will just retaliate but I can’t help myself.

Some dark action inside me takes over. His hand slides back to my throat, encompassing all of it as my hand connects with his cheek in the same spot it just did moments ago. He squeezes only the sides of my throat so controlled and practiced I instantly see stars.

He’s right, I am terrified but something else is happening. Something I couldn’t understand if I tried. I squeeze my thighs together as my core beings to ache, even under his unpredictable touch.