Darien clenches his jaw and steps back like the space might help. It doesn’t. He’s still burning.
"I’ll take care of it," he says. "What you heard. I’ll track them. But you stay quiet."
"Why should I trust you?"
"You shouldn’t." He shrugs. "But it’s either me or no one."
She watches him like she’s trying to decide whether to kick him in the shin or cry.
"You’re not what I expected," she murmurs instead.
He tilts his head. "What did you expect?"
"I don’t know. Something colder. Something more... Alpha-y."
Darien smirks. "I’ll take that as a compliment."
"I didn’t mean it as one."
"Still taking it."
She rolls her eyes. But it’s softer and less jagged. Her body’s still tense, but not rigid. He can see her shoulders drop a bit.
This is dangerous. She’s dangerous.
Darien finds himself extending his hand, brushing a curl of hair from her cheek. It’s a mistake. Her skin is warm, and when she blinks at him, the entire world seems to slow.
She tilts her head. He leans in and their mouths almost touch.
His wolf is screaming. And Darien... Darien, who’s never wanted anything enough to ruin himself for it, is one breath away from tasting her when...
She moves first. She kisses him, and everything else falls away.
Her mouth is hot, vibrating, and needy, and his hand is on her hip before he can stop it. He pulls her flush against him and kisses back, hard and hungry, like the part of him that’s always been starving has just found its first taste of meat.
She gasps, and he takes advantage, licking into her mouth, devouring every inch of her like he’s trying to erase the entire world from existence.
Her lips are soft but their hunger is fire. He tastes heat. The werewolf kind of heat. Her fingers twist in his shirt, knuckles pressing into his chest like she’s afraid he’ll vanish. His hand slides down, gripping the soft curve of her hip, and she arches into him, burning, wanting, unmoored
"Mine," Kairos growls. "She’s mine."
"Not yet," Darien snarls back. "Not until the full moon. Not until we’re sure."
But he doesn’t stop. Not until her hands fist in his shirt and she’s moaning softly against his lips. Not until he tastes fear again. Except this time, the fear is not hers, but his.
Suddenly, the scents of his brothers approaching hit his nose. Fuck!
Shit.
He jerks away from Heidi like she’s tried to bite him. Her lips are swollen, pupils blown wide with surprise, and she’s still clutching his shirt like she’s about to drag him back down for more.
"Oh, God." she breathes, confused and placing a finger on her swollen lips like she couldn’t believe what they’ve just done.
He couldn’t either.
"I... I’m..." She stutters.
doesn’t answer. He grabs her arm instead, muttering a sharp, "Come on. My brothers are here," and drags her past the heavy bookshelf that conceals the side door.
The room behind it is barely the size of a closet. It’s an unused servant’s quarters from when the estate had actual staff. He shoves her in and slams the door shut, spinning just in time to make it to the main study as the door opens.
His brothers troop in like a walking headache.
Morgan enters first, grinning like a drunk hyena. Grayson follows, shirt half-untucked, hair mussed in a way that isn’t fashionable, and Amias lumbers in behind them with his face set like thunderclouds.
Amias is always angry, while Grayson and Morgan are the exact opposite.
"Well, look who finally left his crypt," Morgan says, falling flat dramatically onto the couch like he owns the room. "Darien, darling, you look tense."
Darien forces himself to lean against the desk, fingers digging into the edge. He tries to breathe normally. The scent of Heidi is still there: like roses and nervous sweat.
His wolf, Kairos, won’t shut up.
"She’s tasted like paradise. We need more, Darien."
"Shut up."
Morgan’s eyes sweep the room. "Smells weird in here."
Oh, shit. He and his brothers all possess the Alpha wolf which is the most powerful wolf in the history of werewolves. It also means better senses, more strength, and a dominating aura. Hence, if he thinks hiding Heidi in that closet will save her, Darien knows he’s tripping.
He did it on the spur of the moment. He didn’t think. If he doesn’t distract them enough, it’s not long before they fish out the odd one out.
Darien shrugs, trying to sound bored. "Maybe because you stink of junior year perfume and moral compromise."
Grayson snorts. "Jealous, are we?"
"Of what?" Darien replies coolly. "Catching a venereal disease in the girls’ bathroom?"
Grayson winks. "You wound me."
"Mind telling me where the hell you two have been?" Darien asks, folding his arms in front of him.
"Investigating," Morgan says, stretching with a satisfied groan. "Thoroughly. I interrogated a girl so hard she started calling me Alpha Daddy."
He grins. "For the cause, of course."
Darien glares at him. He hasn’t even confirmed it earlier before guessing that’s what they’ve been up to. "You banged students."
"I prefer the term extracted vital intel. Besides, they were all above seventeen. Barely. I checked their files." Grayson corrected with a smirk.
Argh, the twins were the children of the third and last wife of the Alpha. The fact that she is the Alpha’s mate and was once a rogue has reflected on her children, making them the most spoiled and morally gray. In terms of women, that is.
"I’m going to report you both for corruption. Of everything. Morals. Honor. Public decency." Amias rolls his eyes.
Darien tries to act normal. Inside, he’s sweating bullets.
Heidi is in that closet. An Omega who should not be in the study. Who should not be anywhere near four Alphas. Who should definitely not smell this good or make his pulse sprint like it’s late for its own wedding.
And every second she’s breathing back there is one more second his brothers could notice her.
Amias stalks to the liquor cabinet, ignoring the banter, and pours himself a neat glass of scotch. He throws it back in one gulp like it’s water, jaw clenched.
Darien eyes him. "Let me guess. Lira?"
Amias slams the glass down. "She wants to set a date."
"Ooooh," Morgan croons. "Wedding bells. Shotgun wedding? Do you need me to teach you how to swaddle a baby?"
Amias glares at him. "She’s not pregnant."
"Yet," Grayson adds.
Darien crosses his arms. "So, what’s the holdup? She’s hot. Loaded. Practically born with a bridal veil. What’s your damage?"
Amias sighs, the kind that rattles out from the bottom of a tired soul. "Because she’s not my mate."
Mate? Since when has Amias started caring about mates? Darien can’t help but wonder. Something’s wrong. Something is terribly wrong.