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Waaaaay too intense.
Finally, Finn appears, dropping a rumpled wad of cloth into the truck bed.
I chew my lip. I don’t really have to go, right?
“Change,” Hunter orders. There’s no bark, but his deep, husky voice is its own command.
I dig into the bundle.
It’s a skimpy black dress with lace cutouts. The fabric smells like powder detergent or a neutral beta scent, but I catch a whiff of oranges where Finn’s pheromones cling.
I hate myself for wanting to bury my nose in it.
I slip the dress over my swimsuit, then start to figure out how to slide on the matching thigh-high leggings.
“Shit.” Finn clambers into the truck bed, grabbing my ankle. “What happened to your feet?”
They don’t feel that bad, but when he gently turns my foot, even I wince. The bottom’s a sheet of blood, all embedded with dirt and pebbles. “I’ll clean them when we get back.”
“You’ll clean them now,” Hunter growls. “Grab her.”
“Thought you’d never ask.” Finn scoops me up.
All I can do is yelp before I’m ass-up over his shoulder, my face pressed into his lower back. He slides down from the truck bed, gripping me firmly behind the knees.
Finn’s nose bumps my thigh and I feel him sniff me.
A shiver rolls through my body, lighting me up in the most dangerous way. “Put me down!”
“No chance, Babydoll.” Finn pats my calf.
Hunter grabs something from the cab, then locks the truck behind us, and I don’t bother struggling. I need to save my energy.
I can’t see anything but Finn’s tight ass in his jeans.
All I can do is hang, pressed against his heat, trying not to squirm or pant over the lickable strip of lower back muscles revealed when my weight tugs up his shirt. It’s torture sucking in the scent of him, and all I can do is pray I’m too tapped out to perfume.
Finn carries me through a door, and I’m hit with a wall of humidity, noise, and hundreds of foreign scents that make me go rigid.
“Almost there.” Finn rubs the back of my leg, pressing it tight to his chest. His touch shouldn’t be comforting, but we’ve established that I’m broken.
“Put her here,” Hunter says.
There’s a scraping sound before Finn plops me down into a bar chair.
I blink. Finn steals the tall chair next to me and waves for the bartender while Hunter drapes a zip-up hoodie over my shoulders.
His scent soaks the fabric. Honey and smoke and something sharper. I grab the stool to keep myself from dragging the sleeves to my nose.
“What can I do for you tonight, alphas?” A pretty blonde bats her lashes from behind the bar.
“Loaded cheese fries, a plate of wings, and your first aid kit.” Hunter doesn’t even look at the girl, busy zipping the hoodie up to my chin.
I can’t move.
I don’t know if I want to flip up the hood and snuggle into the shirt or rip it off and bolt. Or just give in to the inevitable and jump Hunter so we can skip to the part where the pack tosses me away.
“And two shots of mezcal,” Finn adds, swiveling his chair until his knees pin mine in place.
