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I touch her image on the screen, and my chest rumbles.
Mine.
I’m not an alpha.
Can’t really even mark her.
What we have is more than chemistry. I don’t need Lilah the way the alphas do, just because her biology calls to theirs.
I need Lilah because she’s the only one who’s ever understood.
Not that I don’t want her—she’s hotter than a fucking scotch bonnet—but I need her next to me. Falling asleep to stupid movies. Sharing blankets, playing the games I’ll program just for her, and laughing while we battle to see who can handle the hottest Buffalo wing.
The guards watch Lilah like a fawn.
I hate that she’s back to that place.
Still alone.
She’s almost to the steps when a Humvee rockets down the driveway.
Finn dives out, dashing to her and the others follow close.
Claws rake my chest.
I don’t care that they went to her first.
Fuck knows, I’d be with her if I weren’t under armed guard.
What bothers me?
I’m not second on their list, because I’m not on their list at all. I’m just the houseboy who’ll be here whenever they show, ready with a smile and their fuzzy fucking slippers.
Not anymore.
They rush to her, ready to rip through every guard to get to their meant-to-be mate.
Finn’s a battering ram, but there’s at least a sliver of conscience left in him, because nobody pulls weapons on the rent-a-cops.
Yet.
Shit.
My mates need an ass-blasting, but I don’t want them dead.
“Stop!” Lilah’s voice rings out, clear, sweet, and full of righteous fucking fury.
And shit do they stop.
They freeze. The guards. The guys.
Every male, like his heart just stopped pumping and obeyed because Lilah Darling said so.
Hot.
But then no one moves for so long, I have to bang the monitor, worried the signal dropped.
Lilah makes a frustrated noise. “What are you doing here?”
