Wyatt nods and hurries off, while Logan pulls me into his arms, his mouth going straight for the collar of my shirt. I give a surprised squeak as he nips my scent gland through the fabric, his pheromones crashing over me in a possessive wave. “You need to shower. Now.”
I reach up to stroke his clenched jaw. “I’m fine, Logan. I had a bath just before I left.”
“You need to wash that asshole off,” Otley says abruptly, his nostrils flaring as he steps so close his shoulder brushes Logan’s. It’s like being surrounded by a wall of alpha frustration, and I watch Otley’s eyes flash behind his glasses as he says, “We should help you.”
“Help me shower?” I laugh, but the intensity in his gaze makes me swallow my giggles. “Um, I really don’t need -.”
Before I can finish the sentence, Tristan steps forward and gives me a quick hug, his eyes both fierce and regretful. “I’m sorry that happened to you, sweetheart, but you should let theguys do this. It won’t stop them from running the guy out of town, but it will calm them down a little.”
“It wasn’t that bad,” I murmur, using his proximity to take a gulp of his calming scent. “Just a lot of ugly words, you know?”
He hums his understanding, but there’s still a hitch in his smile. “You smell divine, like always, but even I can sense the guy’s mark on you. It must be driving our alphas crazy.”
Our alphas?I look into his eyes, my stomach clenching at the truth I see there.
“Okay,” I concede with a sigh, since I do feel kind of grimy after the run-in. “But I want to check on Catherine first. And we need to call Ellis. He said he’d be here by dinnertime, but he was really anxious for an update.”
“I’m taking care of all that,” he tells me, leaning in to brush a kiss over my lips. Peppermint and green apples fill my senses, soothing my nerves almost as much as the warmth in his hazel eyes. “Leave it with me and let the guys take care of you.”
I nod, and that’s all the permission Logan needs to practically carry me inside. I can hear Leo talking to Rosie and Doc in the kitchen, but the guys steer me straight towards the stairs. Otley is so close I can hear the not-so-subtle grinding of his teeth, and I bite back a smile as the three of us bump our way up to the pack suite. I cast a longing glance at the nest, but they hustle me straight into the bathroom.
I give an awkward chuckle as they step back, both watching me like I’m the most interesting thing they’ve seen all day. “Okay. I’m here, and in close proximity to the shower gel. You really don’t need -.”
“Strip, LeeLee,” Logan growls, a challenging glint in his eyes, “or I’m gonna let this guy tie you to the vanity, and we’ll lick that guy’s stink off you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX – LILY
For someone who often feels like she has limited choices in life, Logan’s challenge sets me back on my heels. I mean, am I really meant to coordinate the removal of my clothing when they’re both staring at me like that? It doesn’t help that the thought of Otley tying me to the vanity has sent a delicious shiver racing over my skin, filling the air with the scent of omega arousal.
Logan just cocks a brow at the blush rising on my cheeks, but Otley looks even more agitated than I feel. “You don’t have to undress in front of us, if you don’t want to,” he growls, earning a sneer from my mate. “But if we’re going to scent mark you, it might be easier.”
“Good fucking plan,” Logan grins, his good humor returning as he leans back against the vanity and crosses his long legs. “Have a quick wash, sweetheart, and then we’ll take care of the rest.”
I’d roll my eyes at his arrogance if I wasn’t being subjected to Otley’s unflinching stare. God, the guy could teach thumbtacksa thing or two about impaling things. “Scent mark?” I ask, grimacing at the slight wobble in my voice. “I thought that was just a rut thing.”
“It’s a possession thing,” Logan drawls, folding his arms over his broad chest so that his biceps pop in the most distracting way. “We do it instinctively in our rut, but the urge is always there, especially when an unbonded omega is twitching her ass in our direction.”
I narrow my eyes at him, mimicking his crossed-arm pose. “Ass twitching isn’t really my thing.”
Logan’s eyes sparkle at the bite in my voice. “Believe me, sweetheart, we’re in a much better position to decide that than you are.”
“Ugh!” I throw my hands up, my cheeks painfully red as his chuckle rolls across the room. “Okay, back to scent marking then. What do I need to do?”
At my grumbled question, Otley lurches forward, and I’m suddenly reminded of that moment when the starter’s gun went off during track and field events in high school. He covers the distance between us in two strides, his nose dipping to the scent gland on my throat. He draws in a breath, holding it for a beat, before sliding up to the soft hairs at my temple. He continues the journey down the opposite side, then pulls something from his pocket. I try to look down to see what it is, but he places a finger under my chin, arching my neck back until my throat is fully exposed. I swallow against the stretch, and as his nose roams up and down the cords of my neck, his fingers brush the soft skin behind my ears.
My first thought is that he’s dabbing some of his cologne on me, but the smell reminds me of old pennies, and Logan coughs out a laugh. “That’s some old school moves, bud.”
I tilt my head to look at my mate. “What do you mean?”
Logan steps up beside me, a small smirk on his lips as his thumb presses into his mating mark. “When alphas used to meet an omega they wanted to bite, they'd test the waters with a drop of their blood on their pulse points. It warmed the omega up to the idea of mating bites, but it also warned off any other alphas who might be circling.”
I glance down to see a small gold pin gleaming in Otley’s hand. It’s a lot prettier than a thumb tack, but painfully sharp all the same. “You pricked yourself so you could put blood behind my ears?”
I guess my voice sounds a little unhinged, because Otley quickly pockets the pin. “It’s just a drop.”
Just a drop?His scent seems to be twice as strong now; those pennies dipped in a rich cherry sauce. It makes my belly clench, but I’m not sure how I feel about being marked in blood. My momma’s instincts are telling me it’s unhygienic, but it’s also proof of Otley’s commitment, and my primal brain likes that. A lot.
“You know,” I say slowly, “you could justkissme. I mean, a hickey probably lasts longer than a little smear of blood.”
