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Lumi
Everyone is staring at me and the temperature in the tiny room is uncomfortably hot. Why are they staring? Am I a mess? There wasn’t any blood on the ice, but I do feel like I got knocked over by a freight truck. And don’t even get me started on why I was suddenly making out with the yoga class guy who knocked me over. What was that about?
Damn good kiss though.
The medic clears his throat.
“I need to check your ankle, but because of your jeans being tight, we need to take them off. Is that okay?”
“I think I deserve to at least know your name before you rip my clothes off,” I joke. And then I want to smack myself because that’s really inappropriate when the guy’s just doing his job. And I didn’t complain last time when I was bleeding everywhere and he had to stitch me up. Am I flirting?
Luckily he sees the funny side and chuckles lightly.
“I’m Yas. And I believe you know Quilo and Whit already.”
I nod absentmindedly as I stare between the three men who are taking up all the space, all the air, in the small room. My heart pounds and I can’t seem to bring my breathing under control. Maybe I hit my head harder than I thought? The three of them are so different, but they all make my body clench in excitement. I’ve thought about all three of them since our meeting, but I didn’t think my attraction to them was this strong. Honestly, it’s like someone took my interest-in-men dial and turned it from zero to ten in the blink of an eye. You know when the power on an amp is turned too high and it sort of hums and vibrates in the background? That’s my body right now.
I’m sweating and practically panting like some thirsty bitch in heat.
“So, erm, is it okay? To continue, I mean, with the examination?”
“Sorry, Yas. Yeah, it’s fine,” I reply. He stares at me expectantly when I don’t move.
My skin tingles with the telltale heat of embarrassment. Oh my god, I have to remove my jeans. The three of them aren’t in here to do it for me. This isn’t some dodgy porno. Actually, why are the other two still in the room? Surely they should be leaving by now.
It’s awkward as fuck, but I don’t want them to go.
I swallow nervously, flick the button open, lower the zipper and lift my ass off the couch slightly so that I can slide them down. Which is less of a seductive slide and more of a wrestling match. Why are they so wet?
When I get the jeans to my knees Quilo steps forward and grasps the material, brushing my bare skin and sending my pulse skyrocketing. I never considered knees to be an erogenous zone, but here I am melting at the most innocent, accidental touch.
He helps to ease the tight garment the rest of the way down and off. Skinny jeans and ice do not mix well, and I breathe a sigh of relief—which comes out more like a groan—when the wet clingy material is finally gone. Whit shifts uncomfortably by my side, but doesn’t offer to leave. Quilo’s heated gaze runs up my legs and when I glance at Yas, I swear I see desire flash in his eyes too, though it’s quickly replaced by a professional smile.
I’m starting to feel like a library book with the number of times I’m getting checked out...no. Yas is checking me over, not out, I chastise myself.
I jump when his hands skim my thigh where the cut from my disastrous date was. It’s completely healed already and there’s not a mark on me. My species heal remarkably well and it’s almost impossible to scar us. Which speaks volumes about the one scar I have got.
“What are you?” Yas asks quietly.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re not human are you?”
I laugh nervously. I so want to reply that I am, of course I am, what else could I be? But I can’t bring myself to lie. I have no idea what happened out there on the ice to make it crack like that, but I’m terrified it was my power going wrong or something. I...I can’t lie about it if damage has been done. I need to come clean to the rink manager and own up to the problem I’ve caused. They’ll need to know that magic is at play.
“No,” I whisper, avoiding eye contact and praying he’ll leave it at that.
“I’ve never seen anyone heal this fast,” Yas says in awe, staring intently at me. His ice blue eyes are so light they almost appear silver, yet somehow they still have a warmth to them that’s unexpected. His dexterous fingers are lightly caressing the spot where my cut was. The action raises goosebumps all over my flesh, and I shiver under his touch.
“Aren’t you supposed to be checking her ankle, not turning her on?” Whit’s tight voice snaps through the air like a whip. We both jump guiltily and I dip my chin to hide my embarrassment. Fuck. Am I that obviously aroused?
Yas quickly checks my ankle over, applies an ice pack and elevates it, and tells me I need to sit for a few minutes, all without meeting my gaze. There’s tension in the room so thick I can feel it, pressing down on my skin and stealing my oxygen, but I haven’t a clue why.
“Can I take you out?” Quilo suddenly blurts out, breaking the awkward silence. I blink. Yas growls. Like, actually growls, a deep threatening rumble that starts low in his chest and is all animal.
“Growl all you want, polar boy, she’s my mate.” Quilo smirks.
“Impossible,” Whit grinds out from between his clenched teeth. “Because she’s mine.”
