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“Where the fuck did you get those?” he snarls with a subsequent roaring growl. Honest to God, it’s animalistic and so arousing.
My tongue flicks out slowly to lick some powdered sugar off my lip. “Café Beignet. Ever been there?”
He scrubs his hands over his face, jaw rigid. “I expressly forbade you to leave the property or go anywhere without one of us.”
Batting my lashes, I let a wicked grin tease my lips. “I felt perfectly cared for by the man I was with. Completelysatisfied.No worries.”
Liam snickers.
And I’m being choked again. Wells isn’t exactly cutting off my airway, but he looks like he wants to. Either that or tear my clothes off and fuck me into compliance. Maybe both.
Yes, please.
He isn’t saying anything, just pressing me against the wall, staring me down, and consuming all the oxygen in the suite as Ty emerges from his room. He gauges the situation, fetches my pool tote off the floor, hooks his arm around my waist, and peels me away from Wells.
“Time to go, Freckles,” he says as he picks me up and carries me to the door.
I keep my eyes on Wells the entire time. “So we’re clear, that conversation, regarding the unorthodox way of completing ourbusinesstransaction, was a onetime offer. No worries about me complicating things again.”
The door slams behind us with an exasperated sigh from Ty when he sets me down.
“What the hell is going on, Ty? What is wrong with all of you, and why are we leaving a day early?”
He stares at me for a beat. “You were roofied last night.”
The truth of that pummels me. “Oh, that’s why I … by that guy at the bar.” A flash of Wells smashing his face into the bar top, bloody and shrieking, bombards my memory. And Wells sprinting with me. I gasp. “Who was he?”
“We’re working on it,” he says plainly.
And I know that’s all I’m getting. I’m mixed up in a world I don’t understand, and while they’re clearly trying to protect me, I don’t have any idea what I’m being protected from.
We’ve been home for five days, and other than visiting my father on Wednesday, I’ve locked myself in my room.
Upon returning, Wells informed me that I needed to begin training—whatever the hell that entails. I know Liam told me things would be changing and to cooperate, but my period started. And Celeste won’t text me back. And I don’t want to call my mom because she’ll hear the sadness in my voice, so we’ve only texted a few times. Basically, I’m alone and falling apart.
My sole outlets are baking while the rest of the house sleeps and texting with Rena. Chocolate chip cookies. Cherry-apple pie. Banana bread. I sent her pictures of my baked goods. She called me asugary rebel.It seems she’s running out of piercing real estate and her brothers have been temperamental since we left.
Today, I’ve taken to hiding out and bingeing rom-coms. Rena claims period self-pity is empowering. She told me to own it. So, I’m all in.
A knock raps on my door, and I yell, “Come in,” with an eye roll because I don’t want to pauseWhen Harry Met Sally.
Ty peeks in. “You’ve been sulking in here for days, Freckles. I miss you. What’s the story?”
I prop myself up. “Truth?”
“Always.”
“I’m depressed, on my period, in no mood totrain, and I miss Celeste, so I’m staying in bed and bingeing rom-coms today.”
“Fine,” he says, flopping onto my bed beside me. “I guess we’re watching movies.”
“You don’t—”
“I do actually,” he insists.
Liam struts in next. “Did I hear something about a movie day?”
Seriously?
