Page 120 of Bitter Truths

Weller picks her up like she’s the last good thing in the world, cradling her against his chest. She murmurs words I don’t understand, her face turning into his throat, and his entire body goes rigid.

“I’ll be back.” His voice sounds strangled.

The bedroom door closes with a soft click.

The silence that follows is fucking deafening.

Freddie slumps back on the couch. “Holy fuck, did that just happen?”

Tristan licks his lips and exhales slowly. “It happened.”

My fingers flex, remembering the feel of her thighs trembling against my palms. The way she arched when I sucked her clit. The broken sounds she made when she came on my tongue.

“She said alpha.” The words slip out before I can stop them.

Freddie’s head snaps up. “Fuck, the way she said it...”

“Like she meant it.” Tristan’s voice drops. “Like she knows exactly who she belongs to.”

“Touching her doesn’t feel real. Like any second she might disappear.” Freddie’s voice is low, almost breaking. “She’s everything I ever wanted. And then some.”

Tristan’s stare turns feral. “She responded like she is already ours.”

“I need to mark her,” I growl. “It’s crawling under my skin.”

Tristan growls in agreement.

“Should I be worried?” Freddie’s question comes out on a laugh that sounds strained. “Because you both look like you’re about to cross a line we can’t come back from.”

“You should be,” Tristan agrees. “The only thing I can think about is marking her and hiding her away where no one else can even look at her ever again.”

“Fuck yes.” The words tear out of me. “Right there with you.”

“You’re going to get us all killed,” Freddie hisses.

“Then we die happy,” I shrug.

“Jesus Christ,” Freddie mutters. “You’re both unhinged.”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

The need to claim her, bite her, knot her claws at my insides. I’d choose it over air if given the choice.

Does she know who she belongs to? Or was it just the heat of the moment when she said it, just pleasure taking over when we had our mouths on her?

The not knowing eats at me. Makes me want to storm into that bedroom and get down to the bottom of it. But Weller would throttle me, and she would probably help him.

“What happened tonight makes things even more dangerous for her.” The words taste like poison, but they need to be said.

Tristan laughs, sharp and bitter. “How the hell do we stop? You think either of us can keep our hands off her now?”

He’s right. I’m already planning how to get my mouth on her again.

“She won’t be safe,” I say, the thought terrifying. “Not when we go back.”

The truth settles low, slow and suffocating. The day after tomorrow, we return to Whitney’s cage. Back to the act. Back to being her fucked-up Ken dolls in a nightmare dream house.

“How long do you think we have before Whitney figures it out?” Freddie runs his hands through his wild-looking hair.