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“Keep that sweet ass right there. Don’t even think about moving.” He points at me, green eyes glowing in the diffused light streaming through from the courtyard.
“Yes. Sir.” Clutching the front of my towel in one hand, my other gives him a mock salute.
“And to think…here I was slaving away, making you special pancakes, and you’re busy getting railed, my dirty little thing.” Ky slides a mouthwatering-looking plate in my direction and hands me a fork. “All ‘Fox approved’ ingredients.” He adds, catching my momentary hesitation.
My throat tightens a little. This man is mystifying. Infuriatingly cheeky and endlessly naughty, while at the same time, his heart is so big it can wrap around all of us without a second thought, it seems.
Thorne and Raven join us in the kitchen, just as I’m scooping a mouthful of pancakes and fresh fruit into my mouth—still with wet hair and wearing nothing but sweats after our impromptu shower-threesome.
Holy fuck. Even though I’m busy being distracted by their nakedness…these pancakes…might officially be the best thing I’ve ever eaten.
Judging by the way they both clear their throats, I probably just emitted an obscene noise.
Who would have guessed, my Viking whips up a damn good breakfast. Or lunch? Or whatever the hell time of day this is. And here I thought my wolf was the only one with talents in the kitchen.
More stacks are plated up as they join me at the central counter. Coffee is produced from somewhere and Raven places a steaming mug beside my hip, before handing one to Thorne, too.
“Look at that smile. Maybe I need to start bringing you body parts if that’s what it’s going to take to get you beaming like that all the time.”
“God, please don’t. I’m trying to eat here.” I groan.
“Fuck, baby girl, if I’d known that was what it took…I’ll give you a whole goddamn freezer full of body parts. I’ll chop up any and every asshole who ever dared lay a finger on you and put them all on ice.”
Ky ignores my protests and helps himself off my plate with his fingers. Still giving me a shit-eating grin as he chews and allows his eyes to rake up and down my bare legs.
Now, the super-sized helping that is far too much for me alone to eat makes sense.
“That reminds me…” I wave my fork with a strawberry stabbed on the prongs in his direction. Doing my best to divert attention away from the revelation that I spent last night out of my head after being drugged, apparently begging for their cocks. Or the fact that being presented with a tongue possibly did things for me. “Where is all your food? There’s nothing but the things I asked for in the fridge these days, or in the cupboards either, for that matter. Do none of you eat anything while you’re here anymore?” It’s been bugging the hell out of me ever since that little detail first caught my attention.
Thorne studies his mug. Raven is hunched over his plate of food, guarding it with one arm as always.
I cock my head to one side, waiting on Ky to give me a straight answer.
He steps closer, lifting the coffee he has wrapped in one hand to his lips, and watches me over the rim. After swallowing a mouthful, he sets it down beside me on the counter and proceeds to wedge himself between my thighs. The smug ass nips his teeth at me playfully, stealing the plump strawberry off the end of my fork while he’s there for good measure.
Shaking my head, I let out a little puff of frustration, watching him chew the fruit, then gulp it down.
“The reason we only have things here that you can eat or drink,” he crooks a finger under my chin, tilting my face to meet his, “Is so we can do this anytime we like.”
Ky’s lips seal over mine. He tastes like berry sweetness, the caramelized sugar of the pancakes he carefully made for me, and the earthy aroma of coffee with almond milk.
He doesn’t take almond milk in his coffee…does he?
“I don’t want any single thing coming between me and you, baby girl. Certainly nothing that is going to prevent me from kissing you whenever I damn well want to.” Speaking against my lips, he sends my heart into a fluttering mess of emotions.
These three murderous men, all changed their diet.
For me.
Filthy rope chafes the corners of my mouth, reeking of petrol and filling my senses with the taste of dirt. Not strawberries. Not sweet Ky. Only a rank, greasy film coats my taste buds.
That’s the first thing that consumes my awareness as my eyelids fail to open. I’m groggy as fuck and feel like my head has been caved in. The mossy green of Ky’s eyes after the memory of how he kissed me and stole a little more of my heart in the kitchen that day swims around my addled brain.
Am I lying on my side? The hard surface below me feels cold and unforgiving. A dank, mildewy sensation. Concrete slab against bruised cheek.
I want to push myself upright, but my hands are twisted behind my back. When I unclench my fingers and try to pull my wrists apart, there’s a familiar metallic bite against my skin.
Handcuffs.
