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“I just…”
He grabs my wrist, heat spreading where he’s gripping me, and drags me through the still-open door. He points at the words. “There, see? What does it say?”
Fucking hell. “Look, I have to go?—”
“Just read it!”
“No.”
“Read it, Kyrian!”
“Shut up!”
He stares at me, questions in those big eyes, and I yank my arm free easily. As I turn and stride away, reaching the stairs, I hear him whisper softly behind me, “It says, There be Bookworms.”
Whatever that means.
I shouldn’t have come here to check on him. What a fuckfest. I lied, I didn’t draw the short straw. Didn’t draw any straw at all. I passed by the café, going out of my way for a glimpse of him, fighting my rational mind that said I had no reason to do that, then found the place closed and got worried.
It was all me. Kyrian Rhodes in all his motherfucking fucked-up glory, ladies and gentlemen. He doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing but his body and mind have taken the wheel, and now he has to take it back.
This has gone too far.
It’s time to step on the brakes.
“Arch,” I say, “we have to talk.”
He’s standing in the middle of the crowded bar in his two-piece suit, looking composed and lethal. Lethally attractive.
He frowns at me, looking up from the glass of water he’s having. Always water, only water when working. “What’s up, Ky?”
“You said it. We need to talk about the pack.”
“Here? Now?”
“No, of course not. But tonight. After work.”
“What’s going on?” Roman walks up to us. He has to be on a break. “Hey, Ky. Did you say we need to talk?”
“Don’t you think so?”
He nods. “Yeah, I think we should.”
This isn’t a good idea, pushing them to talk to me, to admit whether they still want me around or not. Making it happen sooner rather than later, but you know, torture is like that: you want it to be over quickly, even if it kills you. Better a quick, clean death.
Archer is giving me a long, steady look. “Then let’s do it now,” he finally says. “Get it over with. Come to my office.”
Surprised, I follow him. Roman puts a hand on my back, falling into step with me, and it makes me feel better. Not sure what it means. These are my men. I thought they were my soulmates. Now I feel as if the ground is sinking under my feet.
We enter the office, Archer parking his ass against his massive desk, and Roman turns to close the door.
“So what’s this about?” Archer folds his massive arms over his chest. It’s fucked up that he can wear a suit as if he was born in one when he’s even more muscular than me. The fucker can wear anything and make it look good. “Did you miss us?”
“You know what this is about,” I say as calmly as I can. “Don’t fuck with me. We have to talk about Brinlee and Sawyer.”
“What about them?”
“The hell, Arch. Are you shitting me?”
