Pack of Lies, page 29
“If this is mine now, I’m going to go do something with it. It’s not staying in your bedroom.”
My tone was indignant and possessive, and Reese smirked, leaning back against the pillows with his chest bare and a bulge in his pants. “Go get rid of it then, and come right back. We should get some sleep. Marlowe wakes up with the birds, and he’ll be too eager to let you sleep for long.”
I glanced out the window, noting it was pitch black outside. We’d touched and chatted well into the night. “I won’t be long,” I said, opening the door a crack and slipping out.
THIRTY-EIGHT
THORN
The house was dark, and I wasn’t yet familiar with the furnishings. I tripped over the console table in the hall and caught myself on the wall, pausing to listen for anyone awake and wandering.
Not a peep.
My deepest, most instinctual urges told me to grab a lighter from the kitchen and burn this card in the sink, but I was trying not to. Reese had a point. Gold pack duchesses were highly influential, and he’d saved the life of one. If he had a personal number for her, he might be able to call in a favour.
However, there was no fucking way it was staying anywhere near him. If anyone called the duchess, it was going to be me.
Maybe that wasn’t the best idea, because I would definitely tell her off for giving my mate a scent-marked business card before getting into the details of the favour. Whatever.
I tiptoed down the stairs, making a beeline for the living room. There was a lamp on the side table, and I could put the card in the base where all the cords were held. Was that a fire hazard?
Fuck it.
I’d gotten within a few feet of the lamp when movement on the couch made me squeak. My hand flew to my mouth, the other shoving the business card into the depths of the pocket of my joggers. The light flicked on and I came face to face with Denzel as he sat up on the couch.
He was shirtless.
So was I. Only my lacy black bra cupped my small tits. I’d forgotten to put my shirt back on in my haste to discard the card.
“What are you doing down here?” he asked. “You’re supposed to be with Reese.”
“What are you doing down here?” I threw his question back at him. “I assumed you slept in the shed at this point.”
The heat of his body pressing up against mine in the shed washed over me, the memory intense.
“I’m not that far into the doghouse,” he muttered. “Get your sip of water or whatever you needed, and go back upstairs.”
“You’re really not the boss of me.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. His gaze lasered in on my cleavage before he shook himself out of it. There was no reason for me to stay down here, half naked, baiting him, but maybe if I wore him down enough he would crack.
I wanted him on his knees sobbing about how he was wrong and had been projecting the past Ava situation onto Marlowe and I.
Unfortunately, I didn’t think he was aware of how deep he was in that.
“I’m not having this conversation right now. Go back to Reese. You reek of him,” Denzel said.
He tried to settle back down to sleep.
I grit my teeth. What if I wanted to have this conversation at two in the morning when no one else would interrupt us? A part of me wanted a repeat of the shed, but I wanted him to reveal even more of himself. Stepping around to the other side of the couch, I stared down at him until he gave in and looked up.
“What do you want?” he grunted.
“For you to admit you were wrong.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You lied to someone you love. You forced Jubilee and Reese to lie to Quentin and Marlowe too. Do you not see how fucked up that is?” I asked.
I had to work to keep my tone at a whispering level.
Denzel growled and I hated to admit it did glorious things to my core, but it did. If there was ever a man who would be a good hate fuck, it was Denzel. Not that I was going to. That would only complicate this situation more. What would Marlowe think if I fucked his alpha who he was still furious at? The situation wasn’t one I would risk.
“I was not going to subject my mate to the trauma of losing his scent matched mate. He doesn’t fucking deserve that, and if you weren’t one hundred percent on board, you didn’t deserve to meet him. What happens now, huh? Are you going to leave when you’re safe again? Do you still not believe you’re matched to us? Marlowe will fall apart. I don’t give a shit if you think what I did is fucked up.”
He didn’t bother to sit up, growling his tirade up at me from the couch. There was something in his blue eyes, a sense of loss. Like he knew he’d fucked up despite having the best of overprotective bullshit intentions.
Staring at him, I worked through my thoughts for a long moment.
I didn’t deserve to meet Marlowe? What kind of fucked up phrasing was that? I swallowed down the anger rising in me because it would only cause an argument if I blew up at him.
He deserved to be yelled at and told off, but it wouldn’t be productive. I’d figured that out from experience.
“You really have no idea, do you?” I asked.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“This isn’t about Marlowe or me. This is about you. You’re so far in goddamn denial you don’t even know why you did everything the way you did.”
“Denial about what?”
He sat up again, scowling with bags under his eyes. The man was barely sleeping, refusing to talk to anyone, and altogether falling apart.
It was so not my job to point out what his pack should have pointed out ages ago, but apparently none of them were willing to have the hard conversations. Or maybe it wasn’t getting through to him, and me saying it would pierce the veil.
“I’m not Ava.”
His eyes slid shut, a growl rumbling his chest. He had to know Jubilee had told me about her — his best friend had been in the shed right before sitting me down for that conversation. Asking him for advice, probably.
“Obviously,” he muttered. “Ava is dead.”
“Yeah, she is, but I’m not going to die. I’ve been through too much to die now.”
Denzel didn’t open his eyes. His next breath was shaky, and I almost stepped back and didn’t push like I wanted to. Was it really my place to be opening up this trauma all over again?
Maybe not, but he’d never unpacked it before, or he would have a better grasp on himself. As furious as I was, I didn’t want him to crash and burn. Those hints of affection from before I’d found out about Marlowe still very much existed, and if I ended up in the hospital again… I would probably still want him beside me.
He could never move on and give us all the apologies we deserved unless someone gave him a shove.
“Logic isn’t a part of your thought process, but now that I know about Ava, I understand why you did what you did,” I said. “You knew the Centre was going to come after me, and some part of you thought I was going to die. Keeping me away from Marlowe was your way of protecting him from the possibility of a loss like the one you had. What I don’t quite understand is why you’ve dug in your heels now. Why don’t you want me here? Do you still think I’m going to die?”
I watched his fingers flex, nostrils flaring as he took deep breaths. It was obvious to me that he was making a concentrated effort to shrug off my words. To ignore me.
The impulse was probably a side effect of lingering hormones from the shed interaction, but I placed both hands on his shoulders and straddled his lap.
His eyes flew open. “What are you doing?”
“Making you listen to me.”
His cock hardened, only contained by a pair of boxers and the blanket he was halfway under. It nudged me and arousal pooled between my legs, but I ignored it.
“I was listening to you,” Denzel said.
“Not the way you needed to be.”
“You need to get up.”
“No. Listen. You were wrong to hide Marlowe and I from each other, and I think deep down you know that. You do. Yet, you’re not apologizing to anyone who deserves an apology from you — which is your entire pack plus me, by the way. Do you think if you apologize, you’ll get attached to me?”
He averted his eyes. There was a slight sheen to them, telling me I might be hitting close to home. About to break him in the way he needed to be broken.
“And if you get attached to me, I’ll die.”
“You’re not going to die,” he snapped.
His hands came up to land on my hips — the first time he’d touched me since I sat in his lap. He was shockingly gentle, and a purr rumbled from me unbidden.
“You’re right. I’m not going to die, because you’re going to protect me,” I murmured. “That doesn’t change if you apologize.”
“Protecting a gold pack omega is impossible. The world is out to get them. Ava knew that. She knew I couldn’t protect her.”
Ah, there it was.
The broken dam.
The glassy sheen to his eyes became full tears, and I couldn’t stop my purring.
“Ava was in a horrible situation. She thought there was no way out, so she took the opportunity she was given.”
He shook his head. “No. There was a way out. She saw me before she slit her wrists. She watched me come in, gun in hand. I was shooting her last alpha in the head while she was turning the knife on herself. Ava killed herself because I didn’t protect her, because I fucking couldn’t. None of the others know that. I told them she’d already done it and we arrived too late to save her.”
My heart clenched.
How could he believe that she killed herself because of him? It was a convoluted conclusion to come to, but trauma did funny things to your brain. I’d spent years thinking I was happy being a prisoner because it was the only way I could feel any sort of happiness.
I slid my palms up to his cheeks and wiped away a tear. His arms were dragging me closer, and our faces were a mere inch apart as my purr worked to soothe him.
“Whatever those alphas did to her broke her, and that’s their fault, not yours.”
He shook his head, then dropped it down on my shoulder. Breath warmed my skin. So did more of his tears. This wasn’t enough to convince him what he’d thought about himself for years was wrong. He’d talked about it, though, which was more than I could say about the shed confrontation.
I hugged him close to me until his breathing evened out and he nuzzled me, marking me with his scent like he’d wanted to do since the beginning.
This time, I didn’t mind.
I even scent marked him back, kissing his head and neck until the moment took a sharp turn from sugary sweet.
A shift in our positions had his cock brushing against me and we both hissed. Ginger and molasses got sharper, intense with arousal. I tried to stop my reaction to it, but it was impossible.
He clung to me when I tried to move back.
“I need you,” he mumbled. “Please.”
The ‘please’ on his tongue was a surprise.
I should tell him no. Solidly. Right now. He hadn’t given me an apology, not even when he was crying on my shoulder. Denzel wasn’t ready yet.
But I’d pushed him to his breaking point. Made him cry. Made him think. Who else was he going to get this affection and closeness from? Marlowe had dug in his heels more than I had when it came to Denzel — he wouldn’t so much as look at his alpha without an apology.
There was no world in which I could leave Denzel alone after that. Maybe I shouldn’t enable him and give him something else to think about, but I worried what he would do if he wallowed in his trauma. It might make it worse.
“What do you need?” I asked softly.
“You.”
“How?” My tone was laced with amusement, and I rolled my eyes.
I had an idea of how. Our scents were heavy. I wanted those words to come out of his mouth, though. There were things I would say no to. Things he didn’t deserve from me.
“Can I taste you?” he asked.
I hummed my agreement, pushing him back to lie on the couch. With him flat and me sitting on his hips, I felt powerful and he looked up at me with desperation in his eyes.
I’d never done this before. My short kitchen cupboard tryst hadn’t included anything similar, and I hesitated. His hands yanked me forward before I could second-guess my instinct to sit on his face.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”
Flushing, I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. The joggers were still on, his head right between my legs. He ran a finger against my pussy through the fabric and I groaned, crawling off him. Denzel watched me strip down and helped me get in position right where he wanted me.
Denzel groaned and held his mouth open as my slick dripped onto his tongue. He practically whimpered, tasting me, before sliding his tongue across my folds.
It was an explosive sensation, his hot tongue gathering up my slick. He didn’t waste time teasing me either, like he was worried I was going to change my mind before he could make me come. As if. I knew what the better choice was — I should crawl off him and head upstairs to get Reese to finish the job. It might even be a bit of karmic justice to leave him hanging. In this moment, there was only Denzel and his mouth and my base instinct to comfort him after making him cry.
His tongue flicked my clit and I hissed, grinding against him. He let me, taking it even as I doubted he could breathe easily. I worked myself on him and his tongue strummed me. I was coming before I’d realized I was close.
My cry was loud enough I might have woken someone, and definitely drew the attention of Reese if he was still awake upstairs. I didn’t care, letting him lap at me until my breathing had evened and then crawling off of him like I should have ten minutes before.
Denzel’s face glistened with me. His expression was an odd mix of satisfied and sad. A bulge tented the blanket, but he made no move to take care of himself.
Should I stay with him longer? Maybe, but I wasn’t ready. We were already too close. Affection for him was increasing every time I unlocked a new part of him, but I couldn’t love a broken man. Not when he didn’t realize he was broken and wouldn’t accept help when it was offered.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
“Don’t thank me. I didn’t do that because I wanted you to forget our conversation. I let you because…” I trailed off, swallowing a lump in my throat. “Because I didn’t want to leave you alone yet. Now you have my scent and taste to keep you company, but you don’t have me. You can’t have me until you think about what you did and acknowledge why you did it. Why you really did it, not the lie you’re telling yourself about keeping Marlowe safe.”
He didn’t move, watching as I pulled my pants back up my legs.
My last glance at him revealed him looking contemplative, which might be a step in the right direction. Maybe. Hopefully.
I shoved the business card under the lamp like I’d come downstairs to do in the first place, and then quietly wandered over to the staircase. Reese was halfway up, his hand braced on the wall and a furious expression on his face, but I shook my head.
Reese led the way back to his room and when we were safely in the confines of his bed again, he rubbed his scent against me and asked if I was OK.
“I’d rather not talk about it,” I murmured.
Denzel’s trauma wasn’t mine to expose, and I didn’t know how to feel about what had happened. Maybe I’d have more insight in the light of day, but for now it was better just to sleep.
THIRTY-NINE
REESE
Waking with Thorn’s scent in my nostrils was one of the most tempting experiences of my life. The only thing that came close was walking by the nest while Marlowe was in heat, his cotton candy filling the space and threatening to send me into a rut.
He always had to help me through a rut not long after his heats, regardless. We didn’t fuck like most alpha-omega pairs. All he did was use his aura to calm me and help me through the discomfort, which was in its own way the most horrible of cosmic jokes.
Shifting away from the equally tempting omega currently in my arms, I barely held back my groan when she chased after me with a little murmur. She smelled of sex from what she’d done with Denzel in the middle of the night, and my morning wood was getting harder by the second.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to rub my erection all over her or give her the kind of pleasure Denzel had. Unlike back at the apartment, it wouldn’t feel dirty now.
But I couldn’t pressure her.
I gave up my attempts to extricate myself delicately. Untangling my body from hers woke her up and left her blinking up at me. Her golden eyes were heavy-lidded, her lips pursed in a pout.
That, combined with her lack of clothing, was a temptation I was having trouble handling.
She was only wearing my shirt.
Only.
I didn’t even think she was wearing panties under it, but I hadn’t tried to find out.
“Where are you going?” she mumbled.
“I’m going to get us breakfast,” I said, coming up with a plausible reason to leave her alone in this bed, as much as I really didn’t want to.
“No. Stay. I’m not hungry.”
She reached for my arm, nails digging in as she tried to bodily drag me back down beside her. I gave in, letting myself fall back. Instead of snuggling up to me like she had before, she swung a leg over my hip and pushed me to my back.
I groaned, grabbing her hips in an attempt to stop her from finding out just how large and throbbing my erection was at this moment.
My fingers on her hips confirmed my suspicions.
No panties to be found.
“It would be best if you got off me,” I said tightly.
“Would it?”
Thorn was grinning. All the sleepy neediness was gone, replaced by a sneaky expression peering from among her mess of green and silver hair.
