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I glance to Cree and Reed in the corner. Watching the big gruff man try to talk down an on-edge wolf is almost comical. For a split second, I almost feel bad for him.
Axel wanders over and sits beside me on the couch. A gorgeous smile—one that should come with its own warning label—adorns his face. He does things to me with just the power of his smile.
Needing a quick distraction of the feelings rising up inside of me, I blurt out. “Axel, can I see your wolf’s eyes?”
He gives me a quizzical look but flashes his eyes at me regardless. I gaze into the eyes of his wolf—a stunning honey brown you can get lost in—and lift my hand, resting my fingers on his cheek. “Gods, they are so beautiful.”
He leans into my touch, his nose resting on my palm, and I swear his wolf is purring like a pup. I smile, even as heat creeps across my face. He closes his eyes and breathes in deeply, like he’s breathing me in, imprinting my scent on his soul. My heart skips a beat, and I slide my hand up to rest my palm on his cheek, my fingers grazing his ear. His hand comes to rest on my hip, his fingers digging in. Pulling me closer and holding me back at the same time.
“Riley, you smell incredible. It’s driving my wolf crazy.” Axel meets my gaze, and the glow behind his irises is more intense, more vibrant than before.
I glance down for just a second. It’d be hard to miss the very unmistakable, and exceptionally large, bulge pressing against the zipper of his jeans. I offer him a smile, and his cheeks flame a rosy pink, unable to be hidden by his warm complexion. It’s utterly adorable, and I can’t help the small giggle of laughter that bubbles out of me. Which, of course, had to come out as a high-pitched tinkle noise. Gods, how embarrassing.
However, my hussy of a wolf is strutting her stuff, feeling proud she made her mate hard for us.
The moment ends all too soon when my name is muttered mid-conversation across the room. In a heated mid-conversation, I might add. Seriously, guys. What the fuck?
Axel gives me a pitying look that makes my blood boil. I don’t need pity, or judgements, or anything else from anyone, especially from these guys.
Seems like this is as good a time as any to bail out. I unwrap the throw from around my shoulders and stand, giving myself a second to steady my equilibrium. Axel grunts from beside me, but I’m not giving this a second thought. I grab my shoes—which I spotted earlier near the front door—and am heading out that damn door.
Cree is standing before me just as I am about to turn the handle. “And where do you think you’re going?” he growls. I swear that’s one of the only two tones the man knows, growls and grunts.
“Home,” I sneer. Seriously, who does he think he is, my mother? I narrow my eyes at the big guy, cocking my head to the side, and can’t help but chuckle at the image of him in a flower apron and pearls.
“I don’t think so. Not until we get over there and find every single one of your stashes, dump every drop of alcohol, and make sure you have a decent couch, which one of us will sleep on every night.”His back stiffens, and his shoulders tense, belying the calm and collectedness of his tone.
My jaw drops at his statement, but before I can voice my opinion, he continues. “There are a few other conditions as well. You will not be working alone at the bar. I will be present for every shift, standing at your side the whole time. You will be escorted everywhere you need to go, every minute of every day until you are past this trying to kill yourself bullshit. Am I clear?”
I blink at him stupidly. Then turn and look Axel and Reed in the eyes as well. Slowly and calmly, I turn back to Cree. I take a step closer, crowding into his personal space. I would laugh at the picture we must make, with him having at least a foot on me, but that would put a crack in the anger coursing through me, and right now … I need that anger.
Maintaining eye contact the whole time. I bring my knee up hard, right into his dick, making sure to catch both balls as well. His eyes widen for just a second before they squeeze shut, he doubles over, and hits the floor for a deep throaty groan. One of two, I’m telling you.
I bend down and whisper in his ear, “Fuck. You.” Head held high; I walk out the door. I fucking dare one of them to follow me right now. Dipshits.
I make it back to my apartment without one of the guys following directly on my heels, but even I’m not stupid enough to think I’ve heard the last of this. They’ll be back, and most likely ... tonight. Wonderful, just fucking wonderful.
Rolling my eyes, I let out an audible sigh and find my bottle of whiskey before heading down the hall to my bedroom. I drop onto my bed and realize too late I forgot a glass. Fuck it, I tip the bottle back and take a long pull, letting the burn of alcohol melt away the shitshow that was those men.
I turn my head, eyeing my bathroom door. I debate how much I really want to deal with my boss tonight, since he had stated that my shifts will be like a prison sentence, and I’m really not in the mood to deal with his male PMS tonight. Not when a long bubble bath is calling my name. Fuck it, I text Cree.
ME
Since you want to stand behind the bar my whole shift tonight, I decided you can go ahead and just work the shift yourself. I am taking a couple of personal days. I’ll be in on Friday night.
Message sent, I drop my phone on my bed, and with my bottle of whiskey, I head to my bathroom. A deep tub of bubbles and hot water sounds amazing right now.
Hours pass, and I wake to the freezing water and wrinkly fingers. Wrapped in a large fluffy towel, I walk back into my room and crawl under my covers. I check my phone before plugging it in. One message.
CREE
This isn’t over. C.
Whatever.
Friday comes and goes, and still, I don’t show for work—or leave the comfort of my apartment for that matter, with the exception of running to the corner store. It’s been nine days since I woke up to that shit show in Cree’s apartment, since I’ve seen or spoken to any of the guys. However, my absence from the bar and lack of communication hasn’t stopped them sending hundreds of text messages and voicemails. I’m guessing I have Cree to thank for sharing my number.
My favorite of them all is the threatening messages from Cree.
