Whether or not I like it, I’ll find all the answers soon enough.
Let’s just hope they’re ones I can live with.
six
VIOLET
This house seemed huge until I had to hide something in it. Now it proves impossibly small and absent of any great places to stash my secrets.
When I’m sure the alphas are all occupied with other things, I slowly take stock of my new home—if not forever, then at least for the next year or two.
While I’ve spent most of my time on the main floor, the chalet style house rises three stories from the ground. The northernmost side is composed almost completely of glass, while the rest is made from cherry-stained logs. It reminds me of a cross between a ski lodge and an Egyptian pyramid. Inside everything is warm, cozy, and earth-toned with pops of red for emphasis. Outside you can clearly see how the grand home begins with a wide and spacious first story tapering off into a tiny peak at the top.
The first floor is massive. At least four-thousand square feet. The second is at least half as large, and the top floor is nothing more than a small loft space with tight, angled ceilings and a huge window that overlooks the property. That’s where Archer works when he chooses to stay at home, and even there, he is unreachable.
My bedroom sits just off the main living area where the kitchen, dining room, and living room all run together in one massive open space. If there’s one thing that’s constant, it’s that this place doesn’t seem to have a proper number of walls. Whether open space or giant panes of glass, everything is laid bare.
And that’s not very conducive to keeping secrets.
It’s why I quickly give up on finding a place outside of my bedroom and return to the one little corner of this massive estate that is mine and mine alone.
I like my room. It’s even bigger than the one I had back home: with a king-sized bed, brown leather chaise lounge, several healthy-looking house plants, and beautiful, ornately carved wooden furniture. The flooring is made up of cherry wood, just like the outside of the house, and a cream-colored high-pile rug spans about half the space, giving me a soft place to step as I get in and out of bed.
This is meant to be my room, but not my nest. While exploring the upstairs I found a bedroom at the end of the hall that sat completely empty, devoid of any furniture or domestic touches.
This is mine, I realized. It’s for me to do with as I please, to serve as the stage for our pack’s forthcoming sexcapades. And I’ll be the headlining act. The star.
I wasn’t at my preparatory school for long, but I know a thing or two about making a love nest. It’s something I need to get on quickly, or the alphas may start to question me. We all know why I’m here. At least in theory.
I move to my suitcase and pull out the package I collected with Ben earlier that day. The doctor sent me a bottle of pills and a couple tubes of a jelly substance that is supposed to be poisonous to sperm. The pills will work if I take them every day, but she also warned that they’re onlymostlyeffective. And that’s what the gel is for. It’s to bridge the gap between ninety-eight percent and one hundred.
Hiding the pills isn’t such a big deal. I can take them privately in my room right after waking up. I’ve already been doing that with my suppressant since getting here, and the guys are none the wiser. If I’m ever caught, I’ll tell them these are special vitamins for omegas. No big deal, even though I’d still rather they stay hidden.
But the tubes of gel are a different story. I need to have them nearby and ready to use after each intimate encounter.
My purse will probably be the best place. I riffle around in the biggest compartment until my hand closes around a small bottle of hand cream.
Yes, perfect.
I squeeze it all out into a wad of tissues, then pour some water from my bottle into the empty container and shake. The resulting mixture goes into a potted houseplant nearby. Yes, it would be easier to do this in a bathroom, but I don’t want to risk getting caught. Not until this job is complete.
Once I’m certain I have the lotion container reasonably clean, I squeeze my sperm-killing gel inside and then reapply the twist cap.
The pills and remaining gel tube get wedged between my mattress and box spring. A very obvious hiding place, but then again why would the guys ever assume I have anything to hide?
Now that my birth control pills are here, I can swap one medicinal lie for another. My suppressants have got to go. I’ve been keeping them tucked in the back corner of my suitcase, but next time I leave the house I’ll find a public dumpster to toss them into. I would have done that on my earlier run to the UPS store if Ben hadn’t insisted on tagging along.
Tomorrow I’ll take the first dose of my new medication. I’ve been on suppressants for close to a year now without taking any breaks. Between that blockade and the pregnancy that preceded it, my heat will be eager to show itself again.
The guys will think it’s my first, and I have to let them believe that in order to keep my place here secure. That heat will be my next big test. If I can make it through without arousing any suspicions, then I shouldn’t have any difficulty staying the course, in seeing my big ruse through to its inevitable end—in getting the alphas to love me at first but be willing to cut me loose later.
I can do this.
Mostly because I have no other choice.
Aknock sounds on my door, and it’s not polite and gentle like the greetings I’ve come to expect from Miles. This pounding is hard and persistent like another alpha I happen to know.
I stomp across my room and fling the door open to find Archer regarding me with a hungry look.Hungry for what?I wonder, as my body quivers with delight.