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I hiss as Acton’s hands land heavily on my shoulders. Shrugging out from under him, ignoring his protest, I keep marching through the halls.
Bar snags my waist, holding me still while he buries his nose in my hair. The frustration I feel melts away as I fall into orange-soaked happiness.
“I love that scent. But I’ve been told to fetch you and feed you.” Barren purrs.
“I’m feeding myself this time,” I warn.
Bar grumbles and leads me back to the kitchen. Jet and Acton are sitting on counter stools with two free ones in between. Bar sits next to Jet, which leaves me no choice but to slide onto the seat next to Bar.
“Where’s Taylor?” Acton grumbles.
“He’s in a meeting. He’ll be done soon.” Gold says absently from the stove. I watch him hungrily. The way his muscles move under his shirt, the way his jeans hug his ass.
“Nice, isn’t he?” Bar whispers in my ear. Shivers ripple up my spine, chased by heat that I try to push away.
Gold glances over his shoulder, smiling, until he sees me. His smile drops away, and the sullen frown returns. But I saw him smile. He is capable of it.
He serves up the food and puts plates in front of us. Stir-fry. I stare at it, feeling like someone’s ripped my heart out of my chest and stomped on it.
“Don’t you like stir-fry?” Bar asks me.
I look up, finding all eyes on me. “I like it.” I pick up the fork and take a mouthful. The first one is hard to swallow, the second is nearly impossible.
The nights are cold, even with the heater on. I snuggle into the thin blanket and whimper. Gold glances at me and smiles. He comes over and sits beside me with an enormous bowl. I look in, stir-fry, the way I like it. I take a fork, and so does he. We sit and eat until we fall asleep on the couch. Dad beat my ass black and blue for the indecency of us falling asleep on the couch. Nothing happened that time. They didn’t believe us.
It’s still one of my favourite memories, but I haven’t been able to eat stir-fry since I lost him.
But now…He was happy all these years. He found a home. I can’t help but be envious. I push the food around my plate until Acton slides it to Jet.
I put my chin on my hands and stare at the stove.
“You’re moping.”
I hiss at the finger that jabs me in the side. “I’m not.”
“Why are you moping?”
“Bar, I’m not moping.” I respond with a bit more conviction and irritation.
“It looks like moping.”
I roll my eyes, and when he leaps for me; I slide off the stool and round the kitchen island. His eyes gleam, and he brushes his black hair out of his face.
“I’m not, we’re not,” I protest, but he charges me again, sliding over the island before I can run.
“Caught. That means you're mine.” My mind goes blank, but he’s already carrying me deeper into the house.
I don’t even know where I am when he slams the door and locks it. He sits on the couch with me on his lap. I move to get off, but he holds me still. He stares at my face until I can’t sit still.
“What’s on my face?”
“Nothing, I just want to understand you.”
I scowl. “You could just ask questions. I thought there was something wrong.”
He leans forward, rubbing his face on my chest. My nipples harden painfully. I’m lightheaded as I watch him scent mark me. It’s another first.
“Tell me about your family.”
