Page 102 of Slashed Bonds

Finding the fault line. Deciding whether to put her thumb on it.

“Which one of you is the goalie,” she says.

Not a question. Nikolai, on the stairs, lifts one hand.

“Cute,” Maddie says, and dismisses him with a flick of her eyes, and I watched the most possessive Alpha I’ve ever met get rated and filed by a five-foot-four Omega in a pink coat and take it without a word.

That was the first ten seconds.

By the fourth minute, half the second line had found a reason to be in the front hall. Dubois had offered to take her suitcase. One of the twins had offered her coffee and the other had offered her the better coffee from the machine upstairs that nobody’s allowed to use. Somebody had laughed too loud at something she hadn’t said.

And Greenie had come through the kitchen door with his phone in his hand, stopped, and put the phone in his pocket.

Only a few days of observing Greenie and I can confirm one thing.

I’ve never seen him put the phone in his pocket.

He walked through the crowd. Not fast. He stepped in front of her, between her and the second line, with his back to her and his hands loose, and he didn’t say anything at all. He stood there. Green hair, sleep shirt, the face of a man who’s decided something and is waiting to see who’d like to argue.

Nobody argued.

Nikolai, on the stairs, watched Greenie do it, and something moved across his face that I’d have called approval on anyone else. Then he looked at me, and the approval turned into something with more teeth, because I was watching Greenie and not him.

He’ll bring that up tonight.

In a way that involves his hands.

Maddie looked at the back of Greenie’s head for a long second. Then she looked at me over his shoulder, and mouthed one word, and the word was mine.

That’s when Marchetti looked at me.

“So,” I say, slowly, turning my head to look at her.

She’s on the other couch with her legs tucked under her, phone face-down on her thigh now, grinning like a woman who’s found the exact edge of a cliff and is deciding how close to stand.

“You watch an Alpha get territorial over you,” I say, “and now you want to ride his cock.”

“Yes.”

“I’m proud of you.”

She laughs.

Hysterically.

Head back, both hands up, one finger pointed my way like she’s identifying a suspect.

“Oh, like you didn’t tell me on the phone that those three crazed fuckers not only have the same vibe as you, but they’d kill for you!”

“They would not kill for me.”

I roll my eyes. It’s a good roll.

I’ve had practice.

She tilts her head to one side, one eyebrow up, grin going wider.

“Bitch.” Flat. Certain. “The half-naked one was about to take the entire team down this morning because one of them looked at you funny when I walked in. If I recall. And last time I checked with the ward, I have an excellent photographic memory.”