Oh, dear lord, someone save me.
Thankfully, the car stops, saving me from myself. I feel Cade’s eyes on me as I quickly yank off my belt and slide out, but he stays quiet as Hudson takes my things.
“You good?” he murmurs, his eyes trailing over me.
“I’m fine,” I assure him. Pretty sure my cheeks are the same shade as the center of the sun, but Hudson doesn’t call me out on it. Heading through the darkened restaurant, he leads me to where the elevator is. I can feel Cade’s presence behind me, silently observing.
“It’s a private key,” he explains, showing me. “We’ll get you one tomorrow, but it means that only pack can come up here.”
My shoulders relax a little. Just them. I can deal with that.
Ican.
But as the elevator rises, Hudson and Cade’s scents locking around me in the small space, I take tiny breaths and try not to panic.
I can leave if I want to.
The doors slide open with a cheerful ping, and I take in the hallway I saw earlier. It feels like this afternoon happened days ago.
God, this has been a day.
The hall is brightly lit with overhead lamps, the light wooden floors and white walls giving it a fresh feel. I glance around as Hudson leads me down the long hall.
It’s… a little empty. There are no paintings, no decorations.
“Have you lived here long?” I ask, and Hudson laughs.
“A few years,” he admits, glancing at me over his shoulder. “I know, it’s a bit bare. We keep meaning to decorate, put some pictures up, but we never seem to have time.”
“It’s lovely, though.”
It is, the high ceilings and ornate lighting continuing as Hudson points to different doors.
“Living room,” he explains. “Television, games, books – that’s where you tend to find us.”
He points out their bedrooms, several bathrooms.
“This is Cade’s office,” he says, jerking his thumb at a closed door. “He’s very precious about his space.”
Cade steps up behind me, his heat soaking through the thin shirt I’m wearing.
“You’re always welcome,” he murmurs. “Hudson is exaggerating.”
Hudson whistles. “Open invite. Somebody likes you.”
He moves on without acknowledging my blush, pushing open another door.
“This will be your room,” he says softly, stepping back so I can look in.
I take a few steps forward, pausing at the entrance and glancing down at my old sneakers.
Toeing them off, my steps are hesitant as I pad into the bedroom. The plush cream carpet sinks beneath my toes as I take in the delicate white furniture, the gilded mirror, the cozy armchair that looks made for cuddling.
The bed, though. It’s a four poster, sheets draping every side and above to create the perfect small space for curling up.
My breath catches. This isn’t a spare bedroom.
This is a room made for an omega.
