Elias stood at the entrance to the living room, his shoulders heaving.
Sinclair stopped beside him; he gawked, inhaling. “Bloody Omega pheromones,” he mumbled. He closed his eyes with a moan.
“I thought you weren’t coming,” Kyan bit out.
“Thought you could have her to yourself before she buggers off, eh?” Sinclair drawled. He tossed himself onto the couch, stretching his tatted arms over the back of the couch.
Until I bugger off. How pleasant.
“Look at how she glares at me.” Sinclair clicked his tongue. “I’m lucky you can’t burn me with a look.”
Nothing of the lust-riddled man from the club sat beside me.
“What are you doing, Kyan? This isn’t—” Elias cut off with a growl.
“Should we have this conversation right now?” Kyan raised an eyebrow. I stood, but neither turned away from glaring at each other. Sinclair’s gaze was fastened on me, his lips curled into that sexy twitch.
I clenched my fist hard enough for my fingernails to pinch my palm. Kyan’s effect was still too present.
“I’m going to go,” I mumbled and slid past Elias, meeting his angry gaze. It didn’t depart from mine as I went, my feet disconnected from my brain. I crossed the large foyer area and was in my room faster than I could think.
The thud of the door shutting rang in my ears. I stood in the aftermath of silence, my brain catching up with how panic made my body react.
I caught my breath with a bit of effort, my rapid pulse ebbing.
“Why did I run?” I muttered to the empty room. I tilted my head forward and rubbed my eyes. Running wasn’t getting me anywhere with these guys. And they still hadn’t given me an update on when I would be leaving the country.
I rolled my shoulders and exhaled. They didn’t scare me. I shoved open the door and marched out. My nose smashed into a hard chest. I yelped, clasping my face as the sting radiated across my septum.
“Fuck,” Elias snarled. A hand landed on my shoulder.
Tears blinded my sight, so I had no choice but to follow as his grip guided me forward.
Chapter 16
“You’re bleeding. Stop moving around.” Elias leaned forward, swiping the cloth over my nose.
“I can do it myself,” I mumbled, swinging my legs off the edge of his bathroom counter where he’d perched me. A very nice fucking bathroom, similarly styled to the one in my borrowed bedroom.
“Stop moving, Briar,” he snapped, turning the faucet on and rinsing the fabric.
“You’re extra moody today.” My tone was nasally.
His eyebrow twitched along with the corner of his mouth, offering me a peek of the man who I had encountered the first day I showed up at The Bordello. So carefully, he cleaned around my nose.
“Is something bothering you?”
His green gaze flicked to mine.
“You.”
That was all he said.
I raised an eyebrow.
“I told you I could do it myself.”
He grunted. I kept studying him. This man held nothing of the suave player I’d heard about, the one I’d faced during our first interaction.
