Never mind. Then other women would see him shirtless.
Rhett Reid was an experience to look at. I’d spent a good amount of time in the modeling industry, and he still, to this day, was one of the most unique-looking people I’d ever met. His nearly 6’5’’ frame was leaner than his brothers’, but somehow it only made him look more lethal. His carefree ‘go fuck yourself’ smile didn’t match the icy intensity of his dark lashed eyes nor the colorful array of tattoos that I knew were under his shirt. A galaxy of sea-colored stars and ocean patterns across his chest that he said he’d gotten for me.
Was it weird that I wanted more marks about me on his body? I wanted to put bite marks everywhere. Fuck. I’d clearly been hanging out with shifters way too much.
This morning his black curly hair was damp from his recent shower, and I found myself running a hand through it as his chest produced a low rumble. I resisted the urge to squirm against his growing hard-on that pressed between us as Desmond started making coffee and Cash pinned me with a look.
“What?” I quipped at Cash, his entire form vibrating with intensity. The leopard shifter’s slate-blue eyes darkened with heat as he rounded Rhett and looked down at me, his frame taller and far more built than my own. His dark auburn hair was messy, and the floral scent coming off the man had me shivering as my toes curled slightly, making Rhett groan.
I had no doubt they could scent how turned on I was, and I didn’t feel embarrassed of that in the fucking least.
“Did you leave bed, kitten? Is that why Adriel is pissed?” he guessed with a devious smirk. Where Rhett was playful with a really dark angry side to him, Cash was just outright rage-filled. No really, he had a stint in anger management, and it was more freaky than not when he didn’t react to things with anger.
Which was why it was so fucking odd that it seemed to be Cash that always picked me up and comforted me when I was down on the ground, laying in shards of bloody glass or on the floor of a cold shower having a full-blown panic attack.
It was an odd, fascinating contrast.
“Do you mean ‘did I leave bed without permission?’” I grinned because Cash and Adriel had a real fucking weird thing about me leaving bed without them knowing. I knew it stemmed from them worrying I’d disappear, but it had also become a bit of a game. A sexy game that I was very interested in playing… Yes, I was turned on this morning. Sorry, not sorry.
Before either could answer, my eyes moved towards the large, open staircase. Dean, the devastatingly handsome bastard, made his way down it in a relaxed, confident pace. Rhett went to open the fridge, and I found myself wanting to run across the room into Dean’s arms. The pull and attachment was probably super unhealthy, and he didn't help it because the minute the psychopath clocked my whereabouts, his lapis lazuli-colored eyes darkened to nearly black.
I hadn’t known it was possible, but ever since we had mated—and more so after the guys had gotten a surge of memories of my past torture the other day—he had gotten more intense.
Dean had always been cold and ruthless. It was hot as fuck. There was no emotion to the man, except when he was around me. Around me, he was just a total lunatic. A sexy psychopath. Honestly, I found it really fucking attractive, which spoke to my obvious issues.
I know, it's surprising. That wasn’t even including the pull of dominance that he seemed to have over me. My siren liked to fuck with him, but honestly, she had let the man tie her up and keep her right where he and his lion wanted us. I could feel a small noise, almost a whine, building in my throat as he approached me, his woodsy scent making my breath hitch as his large hand wrapped around the back of my neck in a commanding hold, his thumb strumming across my mating bite mark.
The man was…. dangerous. My head tilted back as he dipped his lips to brush against mine, making my entire body tighten, and a small needy sound let loose that made him groan. This was the problem with Dean and I.
There was no social filter.
He didn’t give a fuck who was around. If he wanted to touch me, he was damn well going to touch me, social etiquette be damned. Besides, his 6’6’’ frame had most people aligning to that dominance even if they had stronger magic. No one wanted to disagree with the crazy bastard.
His golden arms wrapped around me as I tried to not focus on his built forearms and the rolled sleeves of his dress shirt. His dark hair that fell loose around his shoulders and his trim beard had me only thinking of one thing—him between my legs as I tugged on his thick hair. Fuck.
“Dean,” Rhett chuckled, breaking the moment as I inhaled sharply and turned bright pink at how goddamn close we were. Desmond was grinning like an idiot when I caught his eye. It was a sexy grin, and I took the cup of coffee he offered, ignoring how Dean was still very much in my space. Cash offered me a bowl of fresh fruit as I kissed his lips gently, the lion in front of me making a frustrated noise.
Cash pinned him with a look. “Really, Dean?”
“It’s not me.” He smirked and stepped back, walking towards the coffee pot. We clearly had a bunch of caffeine addicts in here. There could be worse addictions… I would know. I finished my first cup and wondered if there was enough already made for me to have a second.
No. I was not replacing my old addictions with sex and caffeine. I would never. Who has an addictive personality? Me? Oh no, you must have the wrong woman.
I didn’t even jump as a pop of magic sounded in the air and a fine black mist of glitter surrounded me. I turned and faced a large, wonderful-smelling chest, my head tipping up to look at my angel. Yes. He was mine, for the record. Did he know? Sort of. We were still working on the ‘tell people how you feel’ thing.
“Lamb,” he murmured, kissing my nose as Cash complained about the black glitter everywhere. I personally loved it. His accented voice vibrated around me slightly as my magic caressed his, loving everything about Draven.
No, really. Everything. From his obsidian-colored wings to his lilac eyes that could turn equally as dark in a flash. Everything. Especially since he was three thousand years old and had spent the majority of that time in Broken House and still had the capability to care about us. Oh. And he enjoyed pain and torturing my enemies, which always won brownie points in my book.
The fallen angel king was tall and built like a swimmer, his entire look making me wonder if he wasn’t the personal inspiration for Lucifer. His hair that used to be worn slicked back was now a shock of darkness above his gorgeous face. Despite his grumpy attitude sometimes, the man was a mixture of confusing wonderful things, from confident and sexy to even slightly insecure. I know, I sounded like I had a big crush… because I did. Draven understood me on a slightly different level than the other men—not that they didn’t want to, but abuse was a difficult thing to understand if you hadn’t gone through it.
It still freaked him out when I touched him. Not in a bad way, because if that were the case I would stop, but more in an overwhelming way.
Case in point: my hand rested on his chest in a slow movement as I smoothed it against his crisp dress shirt. Instantly his eyes sharpened on it and his nostrils flared, his angelic magic tightening around me. His angel and my siren had gone and gotten hitched in Vegas without letting us know, so our attraction was… um… intense.
“Do we have to go to school?” I voiced a slight complaint.