Page 100 of Trick Knot Treat

“Clint!” he wails, and then he laughs.

Oh. That’s what everyone talks about. I stare at him and feel something in me change irrevocably.

I lean down and press my lips to his cheek. “You are really, really beautiful, Lix.”

His eyes pop open and look up at me, startled. The guardedness in his eyes returns.

“Come on, we have to get up for this meeting and get those three dryish.”

Zaire stands up, walking down to the shore where Jace is giving Khione a blistering lecture. The dog has exited the water after returning from another go-round with his oceanic tour. He has half the water volume of the entire Pacific Ocean dripping out of his fur.

I glance at Zaire with concern. “We should shave him.”

Zaire snickers. “Come on, Clint, grow a pair. He’s just a dog.”

“Nah, that is not a dog, that’s a white whale with fur.”

Zaire is pretty when he laughs, too. What is wrong with me? Oh, yeah, I want to fuck my pack, and the world has vetoed it.

Jace carries Khione over his shoulder, snarling and bitching.

“I just wanted a swim.”

“Don’t swim in clothes is number one. Two, you tell someone if you are going to just jump into the ocean and go under the water for ages, you scared me half to death. And three-”

I forget that Jace is speaking. A massive alpha is walking towards us. He looks like bad news. He’s wearing a tight black T-shirt, black jeans that hug his thighs, he’s attractive and our age.

Harvest. I still hate him. On principle.

“We should kill him,” I suggest helpfully.

“We can’t kill him yet,” Jace murmurs.

“Are you sure? I have a dog who can just accidentally smother him?” Zaire says, joining us. I give him an approving nod.

Khione fights to get free and turns. For one second, I think I see panic, but then her expression clears.

“Hello, stranger!” she calls out.

He falters, tilts his head to the side. “I’m sorry, are we strangers?”

Khione growls. “Dumbass.” She takes a deep breath as if she’s preparing herself for something bad. “You all remember my friend Harvest?”

Harvest? He sounds like a farm machinery brand. Or maybe a homemade jelly.

I don’t like him. In fact, killing my sex game made him public enemy number one.

“Come on, town meeting,” I growl.

“Come with us, Harvest!” Khione invites, which totally makes the four of us growl.

He tags along, talking to her quietly, not getting too close, but it’s obvious that he cares about her a lot. And knows her well. I hate that so hard.

Yolanda is waiting with the towels, and while Zaire and I dry his yeti, Khione dries herself while she’s got all of her attention on the new alpha. I try to catch his scent, but I can’t quite identify it.

We walk out, and I stop dead, groaning. “Oh, no, it’s that time of the year.”

“What time of the year?” Khione asks.