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He pauses dramatically at this part, sharing a grin with me before I peek around Emrys to watch how Wyatt is going to react.
“Rule number three is that you have to wear the chicken suit for the next twenty-four hours no matter what happens during that time.”
Wyatt’s composure is zapped from his frame as his chicken-suited self slumps to the bench with a loud groan. The best part? He has no idea what sort of torture the Sharpes inflict on the wearer of the suit during those agonizingly long hours.
We’ve had to replace the suit at least a dozen times in the past four years.
Another symphony of cheers and playful taunting fills the air around us, and even though I wholly sympathize with Wyatt’s predicament–I’ve been a chicken shit myself–warmth is bubbling in my stomach like a witch’s cauldron on Halloween.
This is the most fun I’ve had in…well, years.
“Alright, Sharpes! A storm is coming in.” A distant crack of thunder emphasizes his point right on cue. “Let’s call it for the night. We’ve found a victim and we all need to rest up for tomorrow’s events. Wouldn’t want to inflict torture without any sleep!” At his order, a chorus of groans rises, but everyone listens and begins to slowly filter away from the bonfire.
Wyatt pays them no mind, instead whirling towards me with terror pasted on his defined, chiseled features while I’m still peeking at him from behind Emrys. “Torture?! What torture, Kathryn? What else could they possibly do to me?” His voice rises in pitch until he’s almost squeaking. Laughter builds in my chest at the thought–and the sheer irony–of the Sharpe family bringing a refined gentleman like Wyatt practically to his knees in just one night.
“I have no idea what you mean!” I lay on the faux innocence in my voice as thick as I can as I press my hand to my chest. The last of my family finally disappears from the beach and he stands, that dark promise returning to his eyes in a flash.
“Kathryn Sharpe!” He bites out and I squeak, ducking completely behind Emrys once more.
“Hide me, giant. The chicken is angry!” Emrys’ large frame shakes in front of me and I grin as I realize he’s holding back laughter of his own. Wilder has no such hindrances and practically howls at the moon with the strength of his own amusement.
“Kat!” Wyatt must make a move, because Emrys suddenly swoops around and lifts me into his arms.
“Yes!” I cheer. “With my personal overgrown bodyguard, you’ll never get me!” I let out an exaggerated evil laugh which ends in a whoosh of breath as Emrys plops me on my ass on a bench. He crosses his massive tattooed arms over the overly stretched t-shirt on his chest and gazes down on me, the flames from the still raging fire casting wicked shadows on his features and emphasizing his already intimidating presence.
“Tell me, Kitten,” his accented voice is low and rumbly in his throat, and I shift as a sudden flash of heat starts burning low within me.
I paste on an innocent smile and cock my head up at him as he towers over me, noting out of the corner of my eye that Wyatt has moved to stand beside him. Chicken suit aside, his authoritative energy is still ever-present and has me shrinking at the hunger on his features. But is he hungry for vengeance, or something else?
Emrys continues speaking, not at all aware of the shift in my psyche from amusement to…something else. “If I was the one chosen, would I be standing here in that chicken suit?” My eyes widen slightly before I paste on a calculative face and scan him from head to toe in a slow, drawn out move.
Tapping one finger on my chin, I finally meet his eyes before answering, “I mean…” His eyes darken similarly to Wyatt’s and his frame goes still. “As much of you as we could fit in the suit, absolutely.”
I squeal as they both lunge towards me and quickly roll backwards off of the bench before leaping back to my feet and taking off into the night, accidentally shedding Emrys’ jacket in the process.
Dammit. I was totally going to keep that.
I shoot past a bewildered Wilder and grab his hand as I go. “Run, Wilder! The chickens are attacking!” Laughing, he stumbles slightly before sprinting right beside me.
And so the chase is on.
My lungs are burning as I sprint down the moonlit beach, practically dragging Wilder along behind me. I risk a glance back, my pulse kicking up a notch at the sight of Wyatt and Emrys in hot pursuit, determination in their eyes.
"They're gaining on us!" I yelp, pushing my legs faster through the soft sand. I've always hated running but the adrenaline pounding through me makes me feel gloriously alive.
Wilder glances back with a wide grin, never breaking stride. "Just leave it to me, darlin'!" Before I can react, he scoops me up bridal-style as he continues booking it down the shoreline. I let out an indignant squeak, slapping at his shoulders.
"Put me down, you brute!"
Wilder just chuckles, unfazed. "No can do. We gotta make our grand getaway!"
Despite myself, I feel laughter bubbling up. On a normal day, I might find this kind of audacity infuriating, but I can't deny that being in his arms is a thrill. His blue eyes spark with mischief beneath the moonlight.
"Sorry boys, finders-keepers!" Wilder calls tauntingly over his shoulder. I peek back to see Wyatt and Emrys gaining ground, their eyes blazing and causing something delightfully wicked to stir low in my belly.
Just then, Wilder hooks a hard left, sprinting straight for the darkened treeline up ahead. My eyes go wide. "Wait, where are we going?!"
"You'll see!" He says with a wink, plunging us into the shadows beneath the palm fronds without slowing down. I cling tighter to his shoulders, my heart racing as he navigates skillfully through the trees. We come to an abrupt stop in a secluded clearing, moonlight filtering down in muted beams all around us.
