Page 70 of Sweet Torment

“You want to come to the bathroom with me?”

“Yes.”

“You’re insane.”

“About you? Yeah.”

She yanks on the handcuffs again, and this time Owen actually does wince. His shoulder’s fucked, and she knows it.

“Does it hurt?” she asks, and there’s genuine concern in her voice now.

“Only when you try to rip my arm off.”

She stops pulling immediately, guilt flashing across her face before she masks it.

“This is fucked up, even for you,” she tells him, but some of the heat has gone out of her voice.

“We’ll look for the key,” Weller says, already heading for Owen’s room with Freddie. He gives Owen a look that clearly says, We are going to talk about this later. “You two... figure it out.”

“While you’re at it,” I add, wiping my mouth and loving the way Bianca’s eyes find mine, “maybe grab some food for our girl? I already had breakfast in bed, but I imagine she could use some actual calories after that orgasm.”

Bianca’s face goes red. Fuck, I love that. The way she can go from deadly to embarrassed in a heartbeat. She grabs the nearest pillow and hurls it at my head. I catch it easily.

“Shut up, Tristan,” she mutters. “Alphas are so⁠—”

The doorbell rings, and we all freeze.

“Who the hell is here at”—Freddie peeks his head out of Owen’s room and checks his watch—“seven a.m.?”

“Probably Montgomery,” I suggest, already pulling on pants.

I was enjoying this too much to be slapped in the face with real life.

But he does live on the property, and he’s always been a morning person.

“Or our fathers,” Weller adds grimly, returning to the room keyless. He tosses a small, empty black box onto the bed. “Found the handcuff box. No key.”

After what she told us last night, and the fact that I know he was involved in gifting her to the Havershams… I don’t want to see my father unless it’s while I’m watching myself strangle him with my bare hands. My father doesn’t just disapprove. He destroys what he can’t control. And he cannot, and will never, control her.

If he so much as looks at her funny, I’m not sure I will be able to stop myself. The alpha in me is too close to the surface and ready to kill for her.

“Well, whoever it is can wait. I still have to pee.”

She drags Owen behind her, his face a mixture of smug satisfaction and pain.

“Owen,” she says as they reach the bathroom, “your punishment for the handcuffs is you don’t get to touch me. Keep your hands to yourself.”

He actually whines. “But⁠—”

“I mean it.”

Ah. I love the sound of Owen not getting what he wants first thing in the morning. Serves him right for the handcuff stunt, even if I understand the impulse.

The doorbell rings again, more insistent this time. Weller’s jaw is working. None of us want to deal with the outside world right now. We just got her back.

“Let’s find out who it is,” he says, heading for the door.

I follow, my body still worked up with unsatisfied need, my mind still half-gone to the taste of her. The warmth of the nest vanishes, replaced by the familiar chill of a threat assessment. Weller moves with a purpose I recognize, the leader taking point. I fall into place behind him.