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“Yeah, well, someone has to be. You didn’t see her. She stood there while he rubbed his scent all over her.” He scoffs. “You know damn well, he wasn’t there to talk.”
I crack my knuckles. “Maybe he wasn’t, but that’s none of our business.”
Both Austin and Dylan turn incredulous looks on me. They can think whatever they want, but I know getting involved with Quinn and whatever alphas pursue her isn’t our job. She’s almost eighteen. She knows how the world works. Alphas scent mark an omega they want to knot. Scent marking doesn’t always mean mating for life, especially not between teenagers.
“Are you fucking serious?” Dylan asks. “She’s part of the family.”
“No, she’s not.”
He clenches his jaw. “You really don’t give a shit that he cornered her?”
It does bother me, but I’ll never admit it out loud. I might’ve learned to respect Gwen as my dad’s new mate, but Quinn is an omega, and her reaction to Dylan caging her in is proof enough we shouldn’t get involved.
“You’re an asshole.”
“Yeah, well, I’m the asshole who’s going to teach her how to defend herself.” And as soon as I’m done teaching her, Dylan won’t have a reason to feel obligated. I stand and he jumps up.
“I can do it.”
Yeah, right. Dylan couldn’t even talk to her without getting all growly and protective. He’s still an adolescent alpha, and baser instincts are harder to curb at his age.
I press into his space. “No, you can’t. You’ll rip her head off, and she’ll never learn a proper move.”
Austin sighs. “He’s right, Dylan.”
“Un-fucking-believable. I’ve been going to the gym as long as you have. I can handle training her.”
Maybe, but I’m not going to let him get any closer to her than he already is. She needs to learn to defend herself? Fine, I’ll do it, but there’s no chance I’m letting Dylan put his hands all over her, especially not after the way she reacted to a simple chokehold.
My brother is chaotic, and I’m not sure I can trust him to focus and ignore the thoughts he’ll no doubt think as he pins her to the mat. Them training together is a recipe for disaster.
“Dylan,” I snap, using a tone I know he’ll heed to.
“Whatever,” he growls before storming off.
I exhale and share a look with Austin, but his eyebrows are pinched together. “What?” I demand.
Whatever he’s thinking, he decides not to say it and shakes his head. “Nothing. Be nice to Quinn.”
“Relax. The princess will be fine.”
He doesn’t say another word as I leave the room and head to her bedroom, which is all the way on the other side of the mansion and up the grand staircase. I run my hand over the smooth chestnut handrail and ascend, hating the knot between my eyebrows.
Dylan’s room is to the left, and heavy rock music filters out from under the door. He can be mad at me all he wants. I’m doing this to protect him. Lowering my eyebrows, I head right and push through Quinn’s door, not bothering to knock, since I know she’d never willingly let me into her room. I snap the door closed behind me, so Dylan doesn’t overhear the conversation I’m about to have with Quinn.
“Brady!” she squeals, clutching the towel wrapped around her.
The sight of her dripping wet hair, a rich shade of brunette that’s clinging to her skin, or the fact that she’s naked under that fabric isn’t what stops me in my tracks. Heady, omega perfume slams into me with the force of a freight train. Musk and honey, earthy and slightly sweet. I take a deep breath before I can think better of it and groan.
Fuck, that’s nice. Like the soft caress of nails tracing over my back. Like delicate fingers wrapping around my hardening cock. For a moment, I’m rooted to the spot, unable to do anything but breathe in that scent, savoring it for as long as I can, because once I move, once I let the thoughts in the back of my mind surface, it’s over. I clench my fists at my sides and force myself to stay where I am as my chest rumbles with a pleased purr.
God. Dammit.
Quinn. My fucking stepsister. Smells divine. Like heaven. Like forbidden fruit I want to pluck and devour. Likemine. Our gazes collide. Her full lips are parted, blue eyes wide, a mixture of fear and curiosity burning within the depths of those piercing irises. She shifts, and my attention zips to her bare legs and the way the towel brushes over her shapely thighs.
My chest heaves, and that heady musk sinks deeper and deeper into my skin until I can practically feel her all over me, slithering through my veins like poison. She’s such an inconvenience. She’s trouble. She’s going to be the death of me.
She’s mine.
