“How are you feeling?Did you sleep well, Love?” Wyatt asks, catching up to me as I walk into our first period class.
Reddening, I can’t make myself turn to face him. Thoughts of last night flit through my mind, making me bashful.
“F-fine, just fine,” I manage to mumble.
“Good, I’m glad to hear it. You were so tense yesterday. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”Do I detect amusement?
For the first time, I take him in and sure enough he’s donning a cocksure grin. If I didn’t know Wyatt usually walked around with confidence slapped across his face, I might think more of it.
“Ah, yeah. This school has the ability to raise my stress level,” I answer, thinking back to the cause of frustration. Sam and Wes have upped their campaign to make my life hell here.
“We can’t have that. Any time you feel worked up call me and I’ll happily help you find relief for…” he pauses, lifting his gaze from my lips to my eyes as he brushes the hair from my face. He bends and whispers, “...your tension,” before laying a light kiss to the thrumming pulse behind my ear. His breath fans my rising desire as vivid images of his fingers skating across my clit as my body bent to his will play behind my slate gray irises.
“I think I can manage on my own,” I gulp between steadying breaths.
Knowing he’s flustered me, the ass just smirks, “Are you sure, Love?” His head tilts sideways as his fingers rub at the auburn stubble lining his defined jaw. “Because there isn’t anything that you could ask of me that I wouldn’t make happen.”
Feeling flustered at my thoughts and my ever reddening complexion, I step out of his reach and retort, “Yup, I’m fine. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to take my seat.” I move around him and over to where Shay’s puzzled gaze is eyeing us.
Before my ass can hit the chair she’s in full reconnaissance mode.
“Um, no bitch, you will not sit here like you weren’t just over there being eye fucked by Wyatt.” Eyebrows raised to her hairline, she continues prodding, “What the hell was that about? Did you two hook up?”
If I wasn’t red before I’m beet red now, full blush, above and under my clothes. My eyes widen until they begin to water, “What? No! Of course not.”
It’s the truth, but she doesn’t need to know I had a wild sex dream about the ginger god.
Scrunching her face in disbelief, “Mmhmm, because guys look at women like they know what they look like underneath their clothes all the time.”
Now it’s my turn to side-eye her, “Uhh, some actually do, you know the smarmy icky ones.”
“You know what the fuck I mean, don’t play dumb. It doesn’t suit you.”
As she’s speaking, I feel eyes burrowing under my skin making me turn slightly and look out of the corner of my right eye, just in time to see Wyatt lick his full bite-worthy lips as they shift up into a shit-eating grin.
It was just a dream.It was just a dream. It was just a dream.
16
WES
“Do you all have your choices ready?” My father’s stern eyes meet each of our gazes head-on. None of us so much as flinch under his assessing glare.
“We do, sir,” Lev’s voice firm, surety filling his tone.
“You understand what’s at stake, and why this has to happen now?”
This comes from the softer eyes of Wy’s dad. He’s always been the warmest of all our dads. It’s evident in the laugh lines that crinkle at the corners of his still youthful face.
We all understand the importance of what’s happening. I’m just not happy about it, I think Wy might be the only one excited at the idea of having a wife. But I wouldn’t dare voice my dissenting opinion again. I struggle to refrain from grinding my teeth at the memory of how that conversation went. It was in his very chamber. My father had choice words for me about the importance of the four bloodlines coming together and making therightdecision and keeping the Fraternitas in the hands of the founding families.
The nudging of Owen’s foot makes me aware that I missed something important. Lev’s dad’s face scrunched in a scowl confirms they noticed it too.
The boom of his clenched fist against the council table echoes off the walls, making the lights appear to flicker.
“Are we interrupting your daydream, Wesley?” I fucking hate when they call me that. It’s never done without the guise of reprimand.
Hot rage courses through me and I know my ears and nose are tipped with red, a clear sign of my indignation at being called out. Trying to school my features only magnifies my frustrations further. I bite down on the inside of my teeth, drawing blood. The iron tang refocuses my unyielding anger. Once I feel more in control I reply, “No sir,” pausing for a second. Now that I’m thinking more clearly I try to think of a tangible excuse, but my eyes connect with the displeased look of my father.
