Page 66 of Sweet Torment

Weller's at the oven, taking pizzas out, his shoulders tense with a stress that makes me want to drop to my knees and make him forget everything. Poor alpha. He hasn't had control of a fucking thing in years. It must be killing him. I wonder if a blow job would help.

Owen's sitting at the kitchen table, tracking me with those dark eyes that see everything. Tristan's perched on the counter, also watching me with an intensity that makes my skin heat. When I walk by, Tristan grabs me and pulls me in between his legs. He presses the lightest kiss against my lips. "Feel better?"

"Mm." And it's not a lie. The bath and talk with Freddie did help. I'm still a mess, but at least I'm a cleaner, slightly less hysterical mess.

Weller and Freddie bring the two pizzas over to the table, and before I can sit down, Owen pulls me onto his lap.

"Owen!"

"I missed you," he says simply.

I scoff. "It's been like 20 minutes."

"Far too long." An arm wraps around my waist, and I can feel the hard line of his cock pressing against my ass. He's going to be a problem. I shift a few times just to hear his breath hitch. He's restraining himself. Barely.

Weller slides pizza in front of us. "Eat." It's not a request. His eyes linger on the place where Owen's hands rest on my waist.

I demolish three slices while they watch, as if I'm far more interesting than their own hunger. Freddie's already up, rummaging through cabinets.

"I can make you something else. Soup? There's sandwich stuff⁠—"

"Freddie, I'm fine, but thank you." I lick sauce from my fingers, noticing how all their eyes track the movement. Owen's cock twitches beneath me, and I have to bite back a smirk. Too easy.

"So," Owen says against my ear, his voice low enough that only I can hear, "want to tell us how you took out four omegas?"

Of course he wants to know all my secrets and peel back every layer until I'm exposed. Vulnerable. His.

I laugh lightly. "Maybe one day. Not tonight."

There’s so much potential for blackmail hanging over my head.

"Fair enough," Owen says, but I can feel his curiosity through the bond. He won't let this go for long. His thumb traces circles on my hip, dipping just below the waistband of my leggings, and I wonder how long we can all pretend this fragile peace will last.

"We heard we have some trees named after us back at the refuge," Tristan says, his voice light, but his eyes tell a different story.

I sit up straight so fast I nearly choke on my pizza. "Megan told you about that?"

"She said it was your favorite hobby," Freddie says, dimples appearing as he tries not to smile.

"Should we sleep with one eye open, Princess?" Owen chuckles darkly.

"Probably." I clear my throat, trying for casual. "So... are there any beds in this house you haven't fucked Whitney on?"

The question hangs in the air, brutally honest and ugly. My stomach twists into knots waiting for the answer. Dead silence falls over the room.

Then Weller stands up, his chair scraping against the floor. He holds out his hand to me. "Come on. I'll show you."

His palm is warm against mine as he pulls me to my feet. I let him lead me down a hallway that branches off from the main part of the house. With each step, something changes in the air. Whitney's cloying rose scent fades, replaced by something warmer, earthier. Them. I breathe easier.

"Our rooms," Weller explains in a quiet tone. "She never came here. This was ours."

A space she never touched. It feels like stumbling upon unexpected treasure.

"She wasn't allowed," Tristan adds from behind me. When did they all follow us? "This was the one boundary she couldn't cross. We stayed in here when she was put in timeout for… taking things too far or when she was out of town."

I am not sorry I stabbed her. Not even a little bit.

The common room we enter feels lived-in, real. Books are stacked haphazardly. Gaming controllers are tossed on the couch. Four bedrooms branch off from the main space. Without discussion, they start dragging mattresses out from the rooms and pushing them together. Blankets follow, then pillows.