Rejected Mate (Feral Shifters 1) - Page 59

Maybe more so than I’ve ever been before.

“I think…” I say, rolling over the thick syllables on my numb tongue, “it’s time for bad. Bed. Not bad. Ha! Bad. What does that even man? Mean. Fuck.”

I look over at Frost for help, and the sudden movement of my head sends me in a slow freefall. He catches me before I end up in his lap, and across the coffee table, Malix bursts into half-drunk laughter.

“You can’t hold your alcohol, kitten,” he says. I’m thankful his words slur a little too. It makes me feel less like a lush.

Kian’s gold-ringed gaze looks like a supernova. The sun exploding, revealing the black hole beneath. He stares at me, cold, silent, observant. “Yes, I think we should all get some rest. We have work to do tomorrow.”

Malix chuckles. “Right. Tracking down a magic tree.”

I snort and toss a potato chip at him. “You make it sound so mundane.”

He catches the missile mid-air and throws it back at me. A short chip battle ensues before Kian snatches the bag off the table and out of our reach. He looms over us as we stare up at him like scolded children.

“Upstairs,” he bites out. “Now.”

Frost helps me to my feet, and I let him, even though my inner voice is screaming at me. What the hell, Amora?

The four of us make our way to the stairs. Now that I’m on my feet and my blood is pumping, I’m a little lightheaded but maybe not as drunk as I thought. More tired, I think. It’s been a long day of fighting, running, and driving. This bitch needs some sleep.

Halfway up the dark narrow stairway, Malix says, “Are we going to share a mattress tonight?”

I shoot him a look. “Uh. No? No. Absolutely not.”

But it’s too late for me to protest. The moment he spoke, I got a visual—me, naked, surrounded by the three of them beneath the sheets. Their breath on my skin, their limbs resting over me. Sleeping beside them, which is the most dangerous and deadly form of vulnerability a person can have.

Desire snakes through me, leaving a path of warmth straight through my core. My body temperature spikes, and my breath hitches in my throat.

All three men stop walking and turn to me.

I’m surrounded. Kian behind me. Malix and Frost ahead of me, one step ahead, two steps ahead, I couldn’t tell in the dark. But too close. Way too close. Their scents deepen—sunshine and whiskey, woodsmoke and spice, and it’s too much. Way too much.

I’ve managed to ignore this most of the day. This sexual tension that’s always there at a low level, always within reach.

Now it’s a boiling, raging storm threatening to crash over us.

I don’t know what they want from me. How they feel about this storm of need. They obviously don’t want me as a mate, but they’re just as attracted to me as I am to them. I can feel it.

I can’t deny the heat between us.

It’s suffocating.

I back up against the stairway railing, which is as far as I can go to get away from them. Not far, unfortunately, and the combination of their scents is still stifling me.

“This place is huge,” I mutter, looking out over the dark foyer so that I don’t have to look at them. “There are plenty of places we can sleep without having to share.”

Malix grins when I turn back to face them, just a slash of white in the gloom. “We always share.”

Oh Jesus.

The double entendre has been noted.

“Well I don’t,” I say with a shrug, struggling to keep my voice even. “I like my space.”

Malix opens his mouth to speak again, but Frost hits him in the arm.

Part of me is dying to know what he was going to say.

Tags: Callie Rose Feral Shifters Paranormal
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