“Cinnamon rolls,” he says with a smirk. “Sweet, sticky, warm cinnamon rolls straight from the oven.”
For some reason, my cheeks heat. I lick my lips as I get another whiff of his woodsy scent. I whine without thinking, my insides twisting as Emmett curses.
“Sweet lord,” he says. “You are perfuming like crazy.”
I watch as Emmett brusquely adjusts himself, and all warmth leaves me as I tense.
I hiss at him, and he looks surprised.
“Out,” I say as Olly removes my needle.
“What the hell, Auryn—”
“I said, out!” I growl, just as Olly’s hands grip my arms. He works fast at removing my tourniquet, but I feel his hand pressing some soft cotton against my arm, and it’s enough to keep me in place.
I snarl at Emmett, but he backs away.
“Emmett, please leave,” Olly says, his voice cold and calculating, devoid of its usual warmth.
“The fuck did I do?” Emmett growls again.
“Out of the cage,” Olly commands. The tension between us is thick. Heavy.
Emmett leaves with a vicious growl.
Olly presses the cotton against my arm, catching my gaze once more.
“Can you hold that for me, please?” he asks, softer. I settle my fingertips over the cotton, brushing against his for only a second, but the touch sends a jolt through my body.
Olly’s jaw tenses as he turns from me to grab a bandage.
“See,” he says, his voice smooth. “That didn’t hurt, now did it?”
His amber eyes catch mine, glistening with something dark and inviting. Flecks of gold glitter in his irises, making my heartbeat quicken again. I have the faintest desire to never look away.
“No,” I say, my voice barely a whisper. He holds my attention for a moment before he packs up his case.
“I, uh…best get these to the lab,” he says, clearing his throat.
He’s leaving.
Fuck, he’sleaving.
I grab his wrist without thinking, panic swelling inside of me. I don’t want him to leave.
My beta.
I blink, shoving the endearment down into the pit of my stomach. No. He is not mine.He is not…
This can’t happen. I can’t form an attachment to any of these men; they are the enemy.
Olly settles his free hand on mine where I grab him. His palm is warm against my skin.
“I’ll be back later,” he says with a smile. “Promise.”
I let him go, and with that he moves away, clutching his case. I hate watching him leave, and I know I shouldn’t trust a word he says, but…
I don’t think he would lie to me. He hasn’t yet.
