Page 81 of Sweet Torment

“You’re doing this on purpose,” I murmur against her ear.

“Are you... high?” Weller finally speaks.

“Mmm,” Bianca confirms, looking around at them for the first time. “You should try it, Welly Wells.”

The nickname makes Tristan snort.

Weller isn’t laughing. I’ve seen that look enough times to know I’m in for a lecture later. Yay me. Anger is oozing off of him, and I know it’s not the weed… or the sex. It’s about there now being footage of Bianca exposed like this. I do feel guilty about it.

“Definitely not part of the plan, Freddie,” he says, his eyes narrowing at me.

Bianca wags her finger at me but looks at him. “Sorry, Daddy. Didn’t know there were so many rules.”

“Oh fuck,” Tristan says, laughing. “She’s so much fun.”

Owen hasn’t taken his eyes off Bianca’s face since he walked in. I can’t tell if he’s jealous, pissed, or completely enraptured. Maybe all three.

“I’ll stay home with her next time,” Tristan volunteers, a wicked gleam in his eye. “Keep her out of trouble.”

Weller glares at him, but Tristan just smirks and shrugs.

Owen is predictable as ever. “You got her this morning, fuck off.”

Bianca perks up at that. “You handcuffed me, Owen. I might put you on restriction for a week.”

“Princess,” Owen says, his voice dropping into that register that has always affected her, “you look like you need a shower.” No cameras in the bathroom. Smart.

Bianca wiggles off of me as my knot finally deflates enough to slip free, right before she flings the blanket off of her and stands up, completely unbothered by her own nudity. I reach to pull her back down, to shield her, but she avoids my grasp.

“I’ll let you wash me, Owen,” she says, walking up to him with a sway to her hips. She presses her finger into his chest, and I can see the evidence of me dripping down her thighs. “But you’re not permitted to touch me with your mouth or your cock.”

“Scrumptious,” Tristan says, laughing at Owen’s predicament. “I think I’ll keep her.”

Owen makes a disgruntled noise and looks absolutely miserable, but he wraps her back up in the blanket and grabs her hand to drag her down the hall. I’m not convinced she won’t give in to him once they’re alone. Resisting Owen’s charms is not her strong suit.

Weller stares after them and shakes his head. “We’re having a pack meeting about this situation,” he says. “Tonight.”

I groan, already dreading it.

Weller follows after Owen and Bianca, inevitably to make sure Owen doesn’t push his luck. That leaves just me and Tristan in the kitchen, surrounded by the aftermath of what was supposed to be a simple baking session.

“So,” Tristan says, surveying the mess, “what did you two make us?”

I look at the oven, suddenly remembering the timer that’s been beeping this whole time. “Shit. Get the lasagna out.”

25

BIANCA

I can’t stop the grin that splits my face as Owen drags me down the hallway.

The blanket Tristan tossed over us trails behind like a cape, barely clinging to my shoulders. My skin still buzzes where Freddie touched me—electric little aftershocks that make me shiver despite the heat rolling off Owen’s body. For the first time in a long time, a piece of me feels light. Carefree, even. It’s a dangerous feeling. Spending the day with Freddie was good for my soul.

His good hand locks around mine, grip just tight enough to leave an impression. Not painful, but... big mine energy. A reminder that I’ve been passed from one to the next, like I’m some prize they’re taking turns with.

And fuck if I don’t love every second of it.

Owen locks the bathroom door behind us and turns to face me, his dark eyes burning. “You’re a fucking menace,” he says, but there’s no heat behind it. Just hunger.