“There. Perfect.” She hums a little as she walks happily around to finally get a better look at me.
Myla lifts her gaze up. A big smile spreads across her lips.
The three of us sit at Helen’s cluttered kitchen table and the men of the house were ordered out long ago. So long ago that the sun was up then. Now it’s resting on the horizon, sending pretty shades of pale blue and white across the sky.
“You remind me of me when I was younger,” Myla whispers. Her emerald eyes are filled with so much emotion it sinks a feeling all through my stomach.
“Does Kain look like him?”
Helen’s big smile fades and she sits back down in the chair next to mine. A seriousness settles in between us but the happiness stays on Myla’s lips.
“Kain always looked like me.” Myla’s smile is softer, more of a memory of happiness than actual happiness. “I used to wish he’d remind me of Robert and then somedays I was so thankful that he wouldn’t remind me of him. It’s odd. Strange. It used to hurt so much that I’d pray that I could just forget.” Helen slips her hand over her friends. “Kain doesn’t look like Robert. He doesn’t know it, but he acts like him. He acts every bit like the alpha who used to protect this village.”
Alpha.
There’s that word again.
My throat constricts when I swallow all of that information down.
No wonder Myla is so guarded when it comes to her son. Kain protects her. But who protects Kain?
I do.
“They’ll be here any minute. Let me find the mirror.” Helen changes the subject swiftly. Her steps sound through the kitchen as she searches here and there. Mounds of clothes are pushed to the side as she looks underneath. With a sigh she wanders down the hall out of sight and Myla trails after her.
My gaze drifts to the deep crimson color of my dress. It was lying out for me this morning on Chaos’ bed and I still can’t stop touching the beautiful skirt. Around my hips the sheer material hugs over the satin fabric beneath and it drifts against my legs. A high slit races up my thigh, almost meeting my hip. It covers me nicely except for the two inches that separate the skirt from the intricate lace top. Soft black shoes cover my feet. I despise the idea of shoes themselves, but I love these. I’m coming around to the idea of shoes.
Sort of.
The entire outfit is perfect. It’s the nicest thing I’ve ever worn. It’s beautiful. Long sleeve but sexy. I still can’t believe Helen would pick something like this out for me.
A cold breeze wafts through the room as the door slides open. And a gaze just as cold is the first thing I see. Without thought I stand, and I’m not even sure why. Maybe because I feel on display. I feel pretty. Sexy. Confident. The blue in his eyes warms as his attention rakes slowly down my body. Rime halts the moment he’s inside and Sinister runs right into him, glaring at his friend as he walks around him.
And then he sees me. And then all four of them are looking at me.
My spine straightens, my chest pressing against the crimson lace as my head tips up. All that confidence crashes down the moment Rime stalks slowly toward me. One foot after the other he comes closer and closer like a predator preparing to devour its prey.
His palm pushes down my hip until his fingers tease against the high slit of my skirt, brushing my sensitive skin just slightly. Soft lips press against my jaw, his whispered words tingling against my skin.
“Do you like your birthday present?” Fingers tense against my flesh, barely touching me, making me completely crazy by the minimal contact of his skin against mine.
“You got me this?” My gaze narrows on the ice dragon.
He spent more of his life as a dragon than he did a man. How could he possibly know anything about fashion? Or about sizing for that matter?
Sinister comes closer and his fingers slip into mine. Rime shifts so his strong body isn’t covering mine any more. He makes room to share me and I don’t even know if he realizes it.
“As much as I’d love to take credit for how sexy you look, I didn’t get you the dress. Sinister did it all. He did an endless magic show of women’s clothing for over an hour before I finally told him you’d look fuckable wearing nothing but an old sock.” Rime shrugs.
My slow smile almost deters my glaring gaze on him.
“Thanks.” Sarcasm snaps against that single word.
“But,” he adds. “I also said you deserved more than an old sock, of course.” His palm flattens against my lower back, and I hate how easily I want to meld against him even when he’s insufferable.
“Rime picked this one out,” Sinister says as his finger trails so slowly up the inside of my arm. His touch skims against the lace, teasing along my skin beneath the material until I feel his gentle fingers all over.
I’m pressed so closely between the two men that it suddenly occurs to me how much time they spend together. Rime … actually likes Sinister. Not the way he does Kain and not at all like he does Chaos, but he does like him. Enough to spend an hour picking out a present for me.
