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Atlas notices.
“Hands off,” he barks.
The command turns my leg into a hot panhandle that Finn recoils from with a nasty snarl.
Orion climbs in like he’s boarding the bus to prison, and Atlas is the big, beefy dude who owns his ass. Huddling close, they sit across from us.
Jett enters last, and my ovaries riot. His hair’s clipped back with a few long pieces loose to frame the runway model jaw I want to trace with my tongue.
Every one of them looks edible.
Atlas is a mountain I ache to conquer and Orion’s the younger blonder Bond, but Jett is pheromonal napalm. Cedar and saffron, he’s this perfectly masculine, perfectly put-together package, and with the five of them all in an enclosed space, I give up on breathing through my nose.
Jett settles as far away from me as possible on the other side of the limo.
Thank fuck.
I can taste him in my throat.
“Everyone ready?” Craig pokes his head into the car. He’s in a suit too, but the jacket’s cut too baggy.
“Pull over at the mall on the way,” Hunter says. “We need to make a stop.”
“What stop?” Craig asks, leaning in like he wants to join the party.
“Pull over at the mall,” Hunter adds a bite of alpha that has me shivering and clenching all over.
All. Over.
“Yes, Alpha.” Craig flinches and shuts the door.
“How long do we have to keep that fucker around?” Hunter rubs his knuckles against his tailored pants.
“Not much longer,” Atlas answers. “Why do you need to stop?”
“Makeup for our princess,” Hunter says.
Orion jerks like he just took a silenced bullet to the chest. A fistful of Atlas’s jacket is the only thing holding him back from my throat.
He’s deadly silent, but the way he trembles may as well be a scream.
This isn’t going to work.
I dive to the empty bank of seats and huddle in the corner. The new arrangement leaves Hunter and Finn, Atlas and Orion, and Jett each their own bench.
Orion’s claw-hands relax, and he shoots me a grateful look. “Thank you.”
I finally suck in a full breath, choking on Orion’s bittersweet apple anxiety.
“What was that?” Atlas glances between us.
“Territory dispute.” I fold my arms. “No pet names, especially in front of your omega.”
“I didn’t think…” Hunter rubs his thigh. “How are we supposed to deal tonight?”
“Are you sure you can do this?” Atlas wraps a possessive arm around Orion’s shoulders.
When everyone’s attention shifts to him, they miss my wince—the flinch I can’t help at the invasive thought that I wish it was me in that spot.
