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I snort a laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“You’re really sweet and kinda perfect, Silas,” I whisper.
“Shh, don't you dare let anyone know that.” He kisses my shoulder and tugs the blanket that Falcon puts over us up to my neck.
Dylan lies facing me and smiles sleepily. Gray flops on his back, smiling at the roof.
Falcon walks towards the door. I sit up, making a sound of protest. He turns back and, with a shake of his head, flicks the light off and returns to the bed.
“This is not going to be a thing,” Falcon warns. “It’s only ten in the morning. We have things to do.”
“Meh, we’ll do them tomorrow,” Gray says with a happy grin.
I cuddle deeper into Dylan’s arms and kiss his chest. “We could have a nap.”
“And then do it again,” Silas purrs.
I notice even Falcon doesn’t argue with that.
Dylan’s teeth gleam as he wiggles closer to me. I think maybe this might have been the most perfect day of my life.
The start of my new life.
twenty-eight
Onyx
Silas leans in and kisses me with so much intensity that I forget where I am. When he pulls back, I have to rest my hands on his hard chest just to balance myself.
“Have a good morning,” he croons and nibbles my neck.
I swear my ovaries just about explode.
He steps back into the lift, and I watch as the doors close and the lift disappears. It still takes another thirty seconds for my brain to stop replaying those incredible panty-melting memories of last night.
I turn and stop dead, a wash of icy fear killing any lingering arousal faster than anything ever could. Three alphas from Pack Drest scowl at me. There’s a feeling when you are the focus of an alpha pack and not in a good way, you feel like prey; you feel scared. Despite myself, I feel that now. One snorts out something that makes the three of them crack up. But it’s seeing the burning in Silver’s eyes when she sees me that shakes me out of my frozen state.
I know she thinks I’ve done her wrong, but I haven’t. This is my life, and I haven’t done anything I'm ashamed of. Still, my apprehension grows as more and more people stare at me as they walk past. My skin itches, and I feel exposed.
In the dining room, the whispers of my relationship status sweeps ahead of even me. I catch snippets of whore, prostitute, slut, greedy bitch. The words don’t mean much, but it’s the fact that the people I've worked with are saying it. My face burns. I keep it down, watching the floor as I cross to grab a trolley.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Moira walk in. She casts concerned glances under her lashes while the rest of the staff talk in hushed groups of two and three.
“You’d think they’d have better things to talk about than you and Pack Treyfield,” Moira growls. “So jealous. Petty,” she hisses, and a blonde, thin woman with a fierce scowl turns away abruptly.
I half smile at her. “You don't see anything wrong with it?”
“No, but then I know you. They don't. They’re just hearing what she’s been saying,” Moira spits. “That bitch needs her tongue cut out.”
“She?” I cut in sharply.
Moira curses and tilts her face to the ceiling. Her frustration is clear, but when I growl, she looks at me and blows out her cheeks.
“Fine, okay, but don't shoot the messenger. Look, you just need to remember that not everyone believes her.”
I raise a brow and glance around the quiet dining room. I have a sinking feeling I know what she’s going to say, and it’s going to ruin my day. “Tell me why everyone is talking about me.”
