Page 95 of Rot In Knotty Pieces

They pad out of the room, walking easily through my mates, getting their scents.

“So, want to explain?” Mark growls, deliberately ignoring the death threats.

“Bonnie is fine,” Mitchel says. “They’ll be over in two shakes.”

I can’t breathe properly. How did this even happen? How did he get the code? Is someone compromised?

I scrape my fingers through my hair and start pacing, ignoring Tramp, the black staffy, as he follows me around trying to get me to sit and pat him.

“Pix, if you continue to ignore him, he will get the others, and then you will end up at the bottom of the puppy pile again, and I won’t save you,” Mark says in a tight voice.

I blink out of my distraction, having awful flashbacks to the five large-breed dogs that had me pinned on the ground for half an hour while Mark tried to frantically calm them down.

They might be well trained, but when it comes to the emotional health of their people, they are basket cases and suck all the feelings up into themselves, becoming almost hysterical.

I ignore the very interested stares of my alphas and kneel in front of the black, whining ball of hysteria.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.”

He slobbers all over my face. I freaking hate it. Mark is happy to let them slobber all over him, but I have always detested it. What the hell is fun about having saliva from something furry and feral on your face. Especially as these dogs lick each other’s butts. I endure the frantic molestation of my cheeks and pat the dog a few times.

“You are gross. And I am fine. Tell the others-”

I’m slammed into the carpet. Dogs collapse on me, whining and licking.

“Interesting.”

“Shut your damn face, Rolly!” I snarl.

“I am just impressed. I mean, we have the manpower, I think if we all knew how easy it was to subdue you, we could have saved a lot of hours in courting.”

“Rolly!” I growl.

“Just imagine it. Five alphas flattening you to the ground…ooh, you like it.”

“I do not!” I shout.

“You absolutely do! Little liar.”

I open my mouth to protest but have to shut it quickly as a dog's tongue flies too close to the sun. Holy hell, I do not want to be tongue-kissed by the canine. I yelp when a massive paw steps on my inner thigh, far too close to my balls.

“Mark, get your bloody dogs off me, or I’m going to have five fur coats.”

“Don’t be mean to my babies!” Mark coos and slides up onto the kitchen bench, crossing his feet at the ankles.

“Off of my bench!” Yvonne snaps. “So unhygienic.”

Mark doesn’t move, he just leans against the wall, his arms crossed, watching us.

“Where is Sariah?” Mark asks with that casualness he always uses when he speaks about her.

“Location unknown. Still,” Mitchel says.

Mark looks down at his hands, spits out a few vicious words and growls. “I’ll be back in four days.”

Mitchel looks up. “Mark.”

“Not asking permission.” Mark looks at the dogs and cocks his head to the side. “Hmm. Let’s go hunting.”