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“Where the hell did you disappear to?” I ask Owen, tossing my bag in the back of Rubi. He’s all teeth as he passes me, then opens his door without answering. “Are you just going to pretend you don’t hear me?” I growl, hopping in the backseat.
Wyatt snickers next to me as Owen starts the jeep. “I feel like you’re being purposefully daft, Wes. You can’t smell our girl on him?”
“We all fucking agreed,” I snap. “You’re putting her in harm’s way for your own selfish reasons.” Grinding my teeth, I try to get my anger under control. “I know this has been—is hard. Staying away from Ariah is like flaying your skin with a butter knife. And even when you think you snuck one by Samantha, you haven’t. I just had to deal with a very pissed-off banshee threatening to end you.”
Owen’s whips around. His jaw muscles flex. “I needed to see her,” he argues.
“No. You wanted to see her,” I retort, not breaking my stare. We haven’t been this careful for him to go rogue and fuck our carefully laid plans to waste. Hurt replaces the rage in his eyes before they close, and the rebuke I was prepared to deliver dies.
“Wes’s right, O. You can’t take that chance. Not with Ariah’s life. None of us can,” Wyatt sighs from the front seat. He looks bone tired, and not just from the grueling game we just finished playing. The overall weight of the situation is wearing on him. “Samantha has made it well known she’s tracking our every move.”
“This is all my fault,” Owen chokes. “I should never have gone out alone that night. She begged me not to, and I didn’t listen.” He leans back against the headrest, staring at the car’s roof. “I told her I’d be safe. Instead, I got myself taken, forcing you to break her heart.”
His confession catches me by surprise. “We’ve all fucked up. Each one of us has a hand in this,” Wyatt states, and I hum my agreement. “I could list our transgressions, but what will that accomplish?”
“We need to stay on track. The pendulum is swinging back in our favor. We need to get through Le Toucher, then we’ll have more leverage. Teagan is in the last stages of writing the code to deactivate the chip in your arm. Once that happens, there’s no holding back. We can destroy Samantha Davenport and her brother,” Lev explains.
Owen turns, staring out his window into the darkness. Another moment passes before he nods his agreement, then sits up and starts the car.
I rub my brow, feeling like a dick because I know he’d never intentionally endanger Ariah, but Samantha is looking for any excuse to mete out any punishments. Especially those that will hurt Ariah. So, until we’re ahead of this, we all need to steer clear.
35
ARIAH
Iwatch as Owen sails another throwing knife through the air, and it lands dead center. “Bullseye,” I shout, throwing my arms in the air like a cheerleader.
Owen turns, pulling me into his chiseled chest.“Mmm, the sound of you cheering, your delectable ass bouncing.” He hums while lowering his hand to grip said ass, “is making my dick hard, Angel.” Chills run down the length of my spine, causing me to squirm.
The evidence of his arousal pushes into my stomach, and like a wanton she-wolf in heat, I roll my hips. The action presses his shaft against my pussy, creating friction and stimulating my clit.
“Will you two cut it out? Unless you’re letting me join in,” Wyatt teases.
“Do we have to?” I groan, rolling my hips again. The feeling is too fucking great to stop now. I don’t think I could if I wanted to.
Wyatt smirks, leaning over and pinching my erect nipple. “Unless you want your dad to come out here and see you. I’m not sure seeing his baby girl riding her boyfriend’s dick is on his bingo card this year, or any year for that matter,” he chuckles, and like a bucket of ice water was dumped over my heated skin, my lust cools.
“You should’ve led with that,” I mutter, punching his shoulder.
Wyatt feigns hurt, clutching his arm. “You wound me. Now kiss me, and make it better.”
“Isn’t it kiss it and make it better?” Owen grumbles, adjusting his very hard cock in his jeans. I bite my lips, watching his movements. Noticing my attention on him, Owen squeezes his shaft, displaying his want for me. I’m tempted to drag him and Wyatt upstairs until I hear my brothers’ giggles as they round the corner of the house.
“I swear those two have a LoJack on when one of us is about to make you come.” I hear Wyatt snort under his breath. The memory of the time in the hallway at his father’s house comes to mind, and I giggle.
My lips curl into a smile. “Come on, let’s go see what everyone’s up to,” I say, pulling them both along. It isn’t long before we’re inside, where Dad and Jamie are waiting in the kitchen.
I fight to open my eyes, knowing I’m locked in a dream. Part of me wants to stay in this dreamscape where they were mine, while the other part is angry at the reminder of their trickery. My eyes flutter, fighting to wake, but I ultimately lose my battle as the Sandman tugs me back to his world.
“There you are,” I exclaim, approaching Owen. His brows are furrowed, and his lips are thinned. He always looks so pensive until his gaze lands on me.
Owen’s features smooth out, his shoulders loosening as his eyes light. He closes the distance between us, cupping my face in his hands. He presses his forehead to mine, then whispers, “I’m never too far behind you, Angel. Remember that if you ever try to run from me.”
I snort, resting my hand over the “A” carved into his chest. “What if I like it when you chase me?” I taunt before pushing away from him and darting into the woods. “Catch me if you can,” I exclaim without looking back.
Darting into the woods behind my house, I run, hoping to gain enough of a head start. Owen is fast, so outrunning him isn’t an option, but outmaneuvering him is. I duck behind a bush when I hear him shout, “I’m coming for you.”
Steadying my breaths, I wait for him to run past. He stops directly in front of my hiding place as if he can sense me. A rustling sound somewhere close by draws his attention. “Angel?” he shouts, and I have to fight not to giggle and give away my position. Dad would shake his head if I did. “No sudden movements, Ry. Be stiller than the air around you,” he’d say. ‘Be slyer than a fox and more observant than an owl.’
