Low chatter echoed down the hall, but it was far enough away that the sound was muffled. I slowed, trying to listen, but only caught the urgent cadence. What were they talking about with such hurry? If I strode in there and asked, they wouldn’t tell me, so I left my sandals behind and padded along the hall.
I slowed as I neared the turn into the kitchen.
“Are we truly letting her go?” Kyan’s voice was rough and tinged with frustration.
“If you guys keep putting it off, I won’t be able to fight claiming her,” Sinclair said so matter-of-factly that it sent my pulse into the stratosphere.
Claim who?
My heartbeat fluttered.
Were they considering keeping me?
How would we do that if I was a fugitive? Would they?—
I couldn’t let myself get ahead of the game, but I couldn’t help but think of belonging to them.
Having Alphas who knew how to work my body. That drove me to the edge of obsession . . . If I could call them my own . . .
The sharp pierce of yearning shouldn’t have stung as hard as it did.
“You know what has to happen.” Elias’ tone was bitter. “So stop talking about it and take the damn suppressants. They still need time to take effect.”
My blood turned to ice. I must have heard him wrong, because I swore I’d heardsuppressants.
“You should have brought the Repressitol,” Sinclair mumbled. “The shit’s faster.”
“And I would have had to drive down to the warehouse to get it. It was too far.”
I hadn’t misheard. A rope banded around my neck, slowly cinching tighter and tighter.
I poked my head around the entrance, keeping as much of myself barred by the wall as I could.
They all sat around the center table.
“Take them,” Elias repeated. The other two hesitated and plucked them off the center, tossing them back and swallowing them without water.
This wasn’t making sense. Why would they need suppressants? I was still reeling as they continued to speak.
“Phantom has the paperwork ready.”
They were sending me away.
Sinclair was nodding. “I’ll drive her to the airport, so she can get on a flight straight out of the country. Kyan, have the documentation for the bank account you set up ready to go.”
Silence. “What? Do you think I didn’t know?” Elias tacked on. He was the only one fully dressed . . . like he’d left the house.
“You were never good at hiding shite.” Sinclair slapped Kyan on the shoulder, his muscles flexing under his silk emerald robe and offering me a flash of flesh, peeking through the slit at his chest.
“Are we sure?” Kyan repeated. He looked like he’d freshly rolled out of bed with low-slung pajamas clinging to his waist. “Will you be satisfied to never scent sweet cookies again?” His focus stayed on Elias, whose face rippled, and a flash of pain forced his eyes closed.
“I . . .” He trailed off and speared his fingers through his hair. Cookies? How did they know I smelled like cookies? Only my Scent Matches would know.
No, this couldn’t be. I was misunderstanding something.
“You can’t be . . .” I inhaled sharply. They turned so fast, I was surprised they hadn’t broken something.
I stepped closer and into a wall of chocolate. Suchdeliciouschocolate. My body tensed, and I gasped as slick dripped out of me, my body preparing to be fucked . . . by my Scent Matches?
