His voice softens from a growl to a stern but quiet command.
“Stand down. The only thing in this room is our mate.”
The other three freeze, slowly turning to look from the empty room to Dane, and then finally... to me. The aggression drains from their faces, replaced by a slow, dawning, horrified understanding. Diego’s skillet lowers with a quiet clank against his leg. Tristan discreetly tries to hide the paperweight behind his back. Rett looks at the floor lamp in his hand as if he’s never seen it before, then quietly sets it down.
It’s Rett who finally says something, his voice a low, rough growl that sends an entirely inappropriate shiver down my spine.
“You dreamt of us,” he says. It’s not a question. It’s a statement.
And God help me, I have no idea how to deny it.
Their eyes darken in unison, and I realize with a sinking feeling that this is somehow more intimate than if they’d actually found me in bed pleasuring myself. They know what happened. They can smell it. And now they know exactly who caused it.
I swallow hard, desperately searching for words that won’t come. My face burns with mortification as the four alphas stare at me with identical expressions of possessiveness.
This is officially the most embarrassing moment of my entire life.
And judging by the looks on their faces, it’s only going to get worse.
“I...” My voice cracks, and I clear my throat, trying again. “I thought I locked the door.”
Of all the things I could have said, that’s what comes out. Nota denial. Not an explanation. Just a weak complaint about my privacy being invaded, as if that’s the biggest problem here.
Tristan’s lips twitch, that dimple appearing as he suppresses what is undoubtedly a highly inappropriate grin. “You went for water,” he reminds me. “Came back. Must have forgotten.”
Right. The water. Dane on the couch. The brief conversation we had. How did he even know about that? Never mind, how did that lead to... this?
“Well,” I say, my voice strained as I try to salvage what little dignity I have left, “as you can see, there’s no emergency. So if you could all just...” I make a shooing motion with one hand, keeping the other firmly clutched around the sheet covering my chest.
None of them moves. Not even an inch.
“We heard you scream,” Diego says, his voice gentler than the others but no less intense. “We thought you were in danger.”
“I’m fine,” I insist, though ‘fine’ is possibly the least accurate description of my current state. “Just a... dream. A weird dream. Nothing to worry about.” I force a laugh that sounds brittle even to my own ears. “Sorry for waking you all.”
“What kind of dream?” Rett asks, his voice dropping to that register that makes my toes curl despite my mortification.
“I don’t remember,” I lie, the words tumbling out too quickly to be believable. “Just, you know, one of those dreams where you fall or something and your body jerks awake.”
Rett’s eyebrow arches in clear disbelief. “You don’t remember,” he repeats, his tone making it clear he doesn’t believe me for a second.
“Nope,” I say, popping the ‘p’ with forced nonchalance. “Totally gone. Brain’s wiped clean. Tabula rasa. Nothing to see here.”
“Nothing except the fact that you came so hard you screamed,” Tristan murmurs, his dimple deepening as he fails to suppress his grin.
If it were possible to spontaneously combust from embarrassment, I would be a pile of ashes right now.
“Tristan!” Diego hisses.
“What? We’re all thinking it,” Tristan still has that shit eating grin. “I’m just saying what everyone already knows.”
“Out,” Rett commands suddenly, his alpha voice making the single word vibrate with authority. “All of you. Now.”
For a moment, I think he means me too, and I’m about to point out that this is my room, at least temporarily. But then I realize he’s talking to his brothers, who look as surprised as I feel.
“Rett—” Diego begins, but Rett cuts him off with a sharp gesture.
“Out,” he repeats, not taking his eyes off me. “Give her some space.”
