Page 17 of Savage Surrender

He wants me pregnant, so no threat to my life... by him, at least. You kinda need a pulse for that. But the refuge comes first, Ez. Don’t do anything that puts yourselves at risk.

I put the phone away without waiting for a response. The burner is hidden beneath the mattress with the rest of my weapon stash. A very pitiful stash. I miss having a bow, but the one I had disappeared the night I broke into this dreadful fucking mansion.

I do fifty jumping jacks and then lean against the wall to let my breath steady out. That’s where Owen finds me.

“You should be in bed, Princess.” He reaches to brush the sweaty hair out of my eyes.

I move before he touches me. I’m still angry about the secret planning behind my back.

“I’m a big girl, Owen. I can leave bed whenever I want.”

He sighs. “How long are you going to do this?”

“Do what?”

“You know what. You’re pushing us away and depriving yourself.”

“Depriving myself or depriving you?”

He closes the space between us until his scent is all I can breathe. “I can feel your frustration through the bond, Princess.” His gaze drops. “I can smell you.”

Fine. I want him. I want all of them. That doesn’t mean I’m ruled by my vagina.

Freddie wanders through the open doorway, stretching both arms over his head and rubbing sleep from his face. “Are you doing your Rambo shit again? I’m making breakfast.”

“I can miss one meal, Freddie. You guys are fattening me up like a Thanksgiving turkey.”

He kisses my temple before I can dodge. “How did you figure out our plan?”

His lips feel nice against my skin. Owen gives me a deeply annoying, knowing look while Freddie heads toward the kitchen, humming like the world isn’t crumbling around us. “Now,” Owen says, moving close again. “Where were we?”

His nose traces my neck, and I freeze. Giving in would feel good. Sex always is a stress reliever, and my body would love nothing more than to let him take over. But I don’t want to be calm. I want to be free. I want my alphas to stop keeping secrets.

I still have a list of people who need to die.

I soften anyway, tilt my hips against his, and slide my hand into his sweats. The thick, delicious shape beneath my palm is almost enough to ruin the point I’m making. Owen’s eyes glaze with premature victory.

Then I grip his dick and twist. Hard.

The sound he makes belongs in a nature documentary. He drops to his knees, cups himself, and starts cursing as Tristan and Weller appear at the end of the hall. Tristan looks like he’s experiencing sympathetic pain. Weller folds his arms and sighs with the exhausted patience of a man who believes he’s our referee.

“I told you to leave her alone, Owen.”

I bend and pat Owen’s cheek. “Thanks for the offer, but I can make myself come in thirty seconds. I once tested how many orgasms I could give myself in five minutes. The number would impress you.”

Desire deepens their scents, combining into a heady mixture. I love the smell of sweet victory first thing in the morning. I head to the shower and their voices blur as I consider what one wears to breakfast with the devil.

The alphas made me promise I would behave. Five minutes inside Montgomery’s house is enough to know I’m going to make a liar of myself.

The dining room is already occupied when I arrive. Four women in dove-gray blazers wait around the table. None of them look familiar, but all have clearly been briefed on me.

One holds fabric swatches fanned between her fingers like playing cards. Another has a clipboard. The third carries a train case the size of a tackle box, apparently filled with every product invented to correct flaws I didn’t know I had. The fourth stands near the window and studies my body with her head tilted.

Four guards. Four women. One man in a white dress shirt eating avocado toast like he isn’t the most horrible man I’ve ever met. I sit across from him when a tall man on the serving staff pulls a chair out for me.

I make note of where the guards are standing.

“Good morning, dear.” Montgomery gestures toward the food. “You look well.”