Coquettishly, she shrugs. “What happens in initiations doesn’t always stay in initiations. Let’s just say Jace is welcome in our home anytime.”
“What? Like…” I can’t see it. “First, my dad is all touch-her-and-die over you, and you said Jace is in love with a married woman.”
“He is, and he is.” Her eyes sparkle. “But that’s what I mean; it’s a special bond. It doesn’t have to be sexual to be erotic without touching. It’s?—”
I shudder. “Okay, pump the brakes before we crash into TMI.”
“Speaking of telling me information,” she quips. “If you’re initiated, will you have a second king? I mean, as your bestie, hell yeah, girl. Do it. You’ll love it. But as your dad’s boo, girl, I’m warning, he’ll kill for you.”
“Yeah.” I sigh. “Guess I have a cunty conundrum.”
I’m dying to tell Vale everything about my first. More importantly, about my forever. How Loch knows about Axel. How he’s still brooding over it, and I understand.
But if I tell Vale, she’ll have to keep the secret from my dad, and it’s not fair to ask anyone to lie to their partner.
Like the weather can sense my turmoil, a jolt of turbulence interrupts us. After an hour of its hell, we’re exhausted, napping the rest of the flight.
But I catch it when we land.
How Loch’s eyeing me like his next meal.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
ALENA
With goodbye hugs to everyone,Loch and I take a connecting flight to Asheville, where a car service brings us home.
Standing by our luggage outside our cabins, we silently stare at each other as the sweet bouquet of late autumn fills the air.
It’s unseasonably warm.
The afternoon sun caresses our skin.
Vibrant leaves rustle lightly by.
But there’s a dark need in Loch’s eyes. A tension drawing his shoulders. An urge unfilled, like he’s caging something inside. It’s been this way since our talk.
It makes me lick my lips. “How about we?—”
“Woof!” Mutt interrupts me, bounding down the road.
“Kujo’s coming!” Wilder laughs up the ridge. He kept Mutt for us while we were gone. Of course, they saw us driving up the mountain.
“Hey there, boy.” Loch squats, petting him. I join him. Mutt’s tail whacks us in the face. We let him get the excitement out of his system before Loch orders, “Walk.”
At first, I think his command is for Mutt. It is, but then I see he’s glaring atme.
And I know that domineering look.
I crave it.
Glancing down, I’m still wearing my hiking boots from our flight, along with my long white boho dress, and a jean jacket.
“You heard me, Babygirl,” Loch warns, yanking his T-shirt off, throwing it on the gravel. With only boots and camo pants on, his bare muscles rip with his growl, “Turn around and walk into the woods.”
Yes, Sir.
Maul me now.
