“But we can’t and mustn’t, not yet. Social niceties must be observed, of course.” He took my lax fingers in his hand and tucked my arm under his as he drew me stumbling forward.
As he opened my door, ushering me into his car, it wasn’t just James and me that got in. My emotional baggage made the car interior cramped, at least for me, and when James turned and smiled at me before turning the car over, I resented him just a little bit for not seeing it.
At the café he’d chosen, we were escorted over to a table right next to the water, light reflecting off the turquoise depths, a refreshing breeze playing across my skin as James moved to pull my chair out for me, then waited until I was seated before taking his own. He sat back in the white cane chair, looking every inch the Chadwick right now. As my eyes took in the rest of the café, I saw other people with much more ostentatious shows of wealth.
Expensive watches, vulgar jewellery that dripped with precious stones, and even more expensive plastic surgery, sculpting people into the required body shapes. In contrast, he wore an open necked white linen shirt and a pair of faded jeans that looked like they’d been favourites of his since forever. My fingers twitched to stroke them, knowing somehow that the tough fabric would be soft to the touch. Instead, I grabbed my napkin and laid it across my lap, giving them something much more sensible to do. He just sat there, a picture of relaxed calm, watching me.
“No matter what comes of this, you have to sit for me again.” His eyes roamed over me but not with the usual alpha look of possessive lust. His gaze was light, questing, seeming to see all of me at the same time, his smile widening in response. He was like some kind of lazy predator, regarding his prey, but content to let it wander.
For now.
“It’s no wonder the Museum of Contemporary Art is chasing me for that portrait.” I watched those long fingers trace the weave of the cane chair’s arm. “You’re fucking beautiful, Kit.”
“Isn’t she though?”
The other voice broke the spell, had me straightening up, then going stiff as I saw who’d joined us. His eyes slid sideways, pinning me to the spot as James got to his feet to greet him.
“Tristan,” James said, leaning over and placing a very continental kiss on my heart’s cheekbone, “so glad you could make it. And you’ve brought a guest?”
There was something very alpha about that question, a tension in his voice, not a growl, not anything so explicit. James had obviously been subjected to the same lessons on decorum I had, but if you knew where to look, there it was—a taut tone as he looked Len up and down, taking in the same plaid shirt and jeans, the other alpha’s broad frame.
“Len Rafferty.” Len held out a hand, and James took it, their fingers tightening around each other’s.
“James Chadwick.”
“Yeah, I know who you are,” he replied, then for the first time, Len looked at me. Fuck, those steel blue eyes seemed to see everything, right the way down into my very soul, and captured the moment when I relived his raspy voiced utterances last night, my body trembling. He smiled slightly and then moved as James had, pulling out a seat beside me for Tristan to sit in.
But my Tris, he wasn’t one to observe social graces, not if they got in the way of what he wanted. His eyes blazed so bright a green, I knew I was in trouble, even as he dragged his chair closer, placing it right next to mine.
“Hello, love. Did you sleep well? I’ve been trying to ring you, but your bloody phone was turned off.”
In some ways, his tone was like James’, but Tristan had never held back his emotions, not with me. He reached across me and plucked my bag off the table, despite the inarticulate little cry that I quickly stifled, my eyes darting around the café. People weren’t looking our way, were they? He rifled through, then pulled out my phone, turning it on and staring at the screen.
I thought I knew what I was doing. There they were, the many, many notifications I’d ignored all the way home and while I was with the Chadwicks in the library. Worse, as Tristan thumbed his way into my recent calls, he saw the ones I’d answered. Turning to stare at Len, he brought up my texts, clicking on our exchange before shoving the device back into my hands. There it was, everything I’d been trying to ignore—requests, pleas, arguments, demands. The texts were Tristan’s ammunition in the fight for me, and as that had failed, he was ready to up the ante. His fingers worked their way into my hair, half stroking, half tugging the strands.
“So, Tristan, I thought I’d invite you here this morning because I’ve declared my intentions to court Kit,” James said.
“Have you now?” he replied in a dark voice.
“And you as well,” James forged on. “Anyone who looks at your portrait has to see the bond, the love between you.” His eyes shifted from one to the other of us. “I have to admit I haven’t exactly alerted my family to the matter, but I registered my interest with your academy before the artist talk. My intention was to declare my intent afterwards but…” His focus slipped to Len, who just sat there, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Other things came up.”
“Damn fucking straight they did,” Len replied, then as the other alpha watched, he ground the heel of his palm into his cock. “I thought the other night was hot, but that carpark?”
God, why did he have to do this, and why had I decided not to tak
e my suppressants? Because when Len and Tristan sat there, staring at me, I could feel it all come roaring back. Tristan’s fingers found the back of my neck, his grip biting down, making me remember the way his hand had cupped my skull as I sucked him dry, as Len…
A tiny little whimper—that was all it took to get the attention of the table, every eye on me. While I squirmed in the face of that, a single finger went under my chin, drawing my focus back to him.
“Just breathe, omega,” Tristan said in that low growl of his. “You’re the most beautiful girl in the room, the sweetest and the bravest. It’s why they can’t stop looking at you, because they’re so fucking desperate to make you theirs.”
Then he moved forward in little jerky movements, a hesitancy that had never been there before now between us, right up until our lips touched.
This was why it had always been Tristan who ruled my heart. Just the gentlest of kisses, and I was fucking swooning like some kind of Regency heroine, falling apart under his firm grip, with him surging in to exploit every moment of weakness. It didn’t matter, because he held me up, kept me safe, even as he plundered every part of my mouth. When we finally pulled away, I could barely feel a thing but my stinging lips.
Tristan’s arm tightened around my shoulders, tucking me in as close as he could to his body as he regarded the others.
“You want my girl.”