"You waitin’ for a damn invitation," Asher barked.
"Maybe she's a medically defunct mute," Kane stared me down, eyes narrowing.
"Wouldn't put it past Eros," Fallon added, “They are masters at fine print and manipulating loopholes.”
“She looks like a fucking astronaut.” There was cruel laughter lacing Nitro’s words.
I bristled when Nitro threw my medicine bag to Asher—who caught it easily—then jogged down the steps, wrapping one arm around my waist and digging fingers sharply into my side. “Come on, Lucy. Home sweet home awaits.”
He didn’t give me a choice. He forced me up the stairs, nearly lifting my feet from the ground when I didn’t comply fast enough. He all but pushed me through the front door. The other men were already inside, watching me from various positions lining the foyer. No one had grabbed my suitcase or the spare suit. I wanted to say something, but the looks of disdain on all their faces made my throat close.
This was what I wanted, I reminded myself,I could have let Doctor Swann fight for me so I could find a different match, but I didn’t. I chose this.
The door closed behind me with a resounding thud.
As if on cue, my surroundings began to really reveal itself.
Even though I was breathing filtered air with supplemental oxygen, the scent of gas somehow permeated. It shouldn’t smell like that, not inside a house. I bit my lip looking from side to side, wondering if the source of the smell was near. I saw nothing except the Alphas and dozens of photographs lining the entrance walls. At first, I dismissed the framed pictures. On second glance, surprise flowed through me.
I moved closer to one of the walls, the images drawing me forward. My eyes locked onto a snapshot of Nitro—his shoulder pierced by a knife, his eyes alight with a fierce thrill. I lifted my gloved hand to trace over the knife. A strange, unwarranted pain made my own shoulder pulse. A phantom wound. It faded as quickly as it came to life.
“I bet that hurt,” I breathed out in awe.
“Better than sex,” a voice rumbled over my shoulder, low and sultry. Nitro again, I was sure. My belly heated, though I knew itshouldn’t. The Alpha that just spoke—every Alpha in this house—seemed as dangerous as Doctor Swann warned they’d be.
I turned around slowly, discovering I’d been right about who the speaker was, and feeling the heat radiating from his too close body.
Nitro ran a hand through his auburn hair, his hazel eyes daring me to ask him why getting wounded was better than sex. I shivered at the thought of either—a knife slicing my skin or sex—inexperience making me far too curious.
Nitro’s face twisted in satisfaction, as if he thought I trembled from fear. Little did he know, that was only part of it.What was it about these Alphas that stirred something inside me? They all looked like they wanted to swallow me whole and spit out, right back to Seattle. Yet, I felt a magnetic pull towards them.
I moved deeper into the house, steps faltering as a human-shaped target came into view. Again, my gloved hand rose, wanting to explore with more than sight and smell, but with touch too. I traced over each letter, reading the garish red words under my breath, trying to discern their meaning.
“Ten points,” I traced the forehead. “Twenty points,” I let my finger linger over the heart. “Fifteen points,” I murmured, tracing back up to the neck. “Twenty-five… twice,” I observed, fluttering my index over the wrists. “And,” I frowned, “Fifty.” I didn’t touch the crotch. “What does it mean?” I asked, voice louder, genuinely curious.
“It means this.” It was Nitro again, making my heart jump, coming up behind me. Out of my peripheral vision, I saw something metallic guided through the air right at eye level. A blade. A blade which he sunk hilt-deep into the target. “Twenty points,” he crooned, “straight to the heart.”
Now, when I trembled, it was more fear than anything else.
I moved away from him, quick enough that I probably looked like fleeing prey. My foot hit something on the ground and I looked down.
A liquor bottle.
My gaze roved over the floor.
Dozens of them. Empty. All finished by these men.
Lifting my head, something purple caught my eye.
A thong. Toss over a lampshade.
Seeing that made all the other haphazardly tossed lingerie come into view. Bras. Nighties. Panties everywhere.
Fallon strode into view. “We did mean to clean all of this up. It was quite the party last night.”
“This… this is just from last night?” I stuttered out the words.How many women would it take to account for all the underwear? Five? Seven? Eleven? More?
“If you want details,” Kane shrugged, “we’re happy to provide them.”
