Harper’s [POV]
I don’t see Grey the rest of the afternoon, and I try not to think about the strange conversation with Renee.
Grey’s not telling me something, and it rouses the same fear I had when I first came to Aurora.
I fear there’s more to the story than they’ve let on.
The only Alpha I can scent is the Inn is James, and I make my way to his room, hoping he might have answers.
We’ve gotten to where I can call him on his bullshit, and it might be fun to take out some of my frustration on him.
His room, along with Beau’s and Grey’s, is on the same floor as mine, tucked away in a private corridor.
The second and fourth floors are for guests.
I was booked on the second floor until James gave me the Princess Suite, which I still have questions about.
Sighing, I knock on his door.
“You know you never have to knock, beautiful,” his low voice sounds from behind the wood, and I roll my eyes and enter.
“Some people respect boundaries,” I murmur as he looks up from the mahogany antique desk. I caught him while he was sketching, his blue eyes sharp in concentration.
“What are those?” He asks, raising an eyebrow, teasing me. He’s dressed in a dark long-sleeved V-neck, showing off pale skin near his neck, and I try not to stare.
But he catches it and grins, placing his pencil down.
“This desk is sturdy,” he adds, drumming his fingers on the dark wood. “In case you were ever inclined to lie on it. It wouldn’t break.”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. It’s easy to be distracted by James, so I scoff and pretend his words don’t affect me.
It’s not that I don’t want him or his brothers. But ever since my Heat, I’ve been careful around them. We’ve flirted and kissed, but I haven’t slept with any of them again.
I want to, of course. I have a connection to all of them, and my inner Omega screams with need, desperate to have their knots inside me again. Being around them feels right, and my instincts scream to have them again.
But I’m still reeling from the shock of discovering I’m an Omega.
James makes it the most difficult, though. Beau is shy, but I can see the lust in his eyes when he thinks I’m not looking. Grey is patient and doesn’t push, even when the air around us is charged with arousal.
But James makes it known what he wants.
“I didn’t come in here for you to fuck me on the desk,” I deadpan.
As tempting as that is.
He sighs dramatically. “It was worth a try. I guess we wouldn’t want to stain the wood, anyway.”
He winks at me with his crazed grin, and I bite my lip to keep from laughing.
My eyes dart to the sketchbook, and my jaw drops. “That’s the pattern on the gazebo and tables,” I murmur.
Only this time, it’s much more intricate. The design is a detailed braid with deep shadows and twists, yet still delicate.
He nods, then closes the book. “Something like that.”
“Charlotte said there was a designer that worked on this house. Was it you?”
His smile fades, and he stares at me, drumming his fingers on the desk.
And there’s that fuckinglookagain, the expression that tells me there’s more than they’re letting on, that there’s an awful secret they can never tell me.
“I worked with the designer. It was a joint effort.”
“Where are they now?” I blurt.
I want to press the issue. I want to know why he looks just like Grey did when I asked about Renee.
“Gone.”
“What happened to them?”
The corner of his mouth quirks. “Truthfully? I don’t know. We have a theory, but we’re not sure.”
His eyes are no longer playful, and his expression is carefully guarded.
I’m never going to get answers.
He sighs and turns away from me, standing up out of his chair. “Why did you come in here, beautiful? What did you need?”
“I wanted to talk about Grey,” I say, changing the subject. “He’s being an asshole.”
“Oh. Well, that’s nothing new. Want me to beat him up for you?” His face is still solemn, but his tone is playful.
“No. I want you to tell me about Renee.”
He cocks an eyebrow. “Renee, huh?”
“Yeah. Grey freaked out and said she wasn’t allowed here after she told me we were best friends.”
James swallows and crosses his arms.
“So, you know her,” I confirm.
He nods.
“But you didn’t know me. You never met me before three weeks ago.”
He laughs bitterly and shakes his head. “What do you want me to say, Harper?”
“The truth! What I’ve wanted from the beginning!”
“And I’ve told you the truth,” he growls. “I didn’t know a Harper. I never met Harper until three weeks ago. Yes, I know Renee. And if she says you’re best friends, then it’s probably true.”
I shake my head. “It doesn’t make sense.”
He takes a step closer to me, and suddenly, he wraps his arms around me. I drown in his scent, and my head fogs with need.
“It doesn’t have to make sense,” he whispers. “None of it does.”
It doesn’t have to make sense, my inner Omega repeats.
Maybe we don’t need all the answers.
“What matters is that you’re here,” he murmurs, his hands tracing up my forearms. “Right? What matters is that you have us, now.”
I gasp as his mouth descends onto my mating gland.
He’s distracting you.
My hands fly to his hair, anchoring his mouth to my sensitive skin, and he groans. His tongue dances patterns along my gland, and I start to lose my balance.
I was supposed to ask about something…
Why can’t I remember?
I push his head away, and he staggers back, smirking.
“All of this would be a lot easier if you’d let me bite you,” he says.
“What?” I gasp, my head spinning.
“We should have done it a long time ago,” he continues, and I stare at him, dumbfounded. “The day you showed up.”
His confession comes out of nowhere, and it startles me.
“Bite me?” I whisper.
“Claim you,” he says, taking a step closer. “Tie you to us. Make you ours, finally.”
Fear and excitement race through me.
They want that, after only three weeks with me?
He pulls me back into his arms, but he’s shaking.
“James, what’s going on?” I ask quietly. “Are you alright?”
He presses a kiss to my forehead, and he chuckles softly. “No. But maybe with you, I will be.”
The riddles are back, and as much as I hate them, I can’t help but listen to the demands of my inner Omega.
I stand on my tiptoes and kiss him.
But these aren’t the kisses we’ve shared recently.
These are passionate, violent, and desperate.
I shove his chest and he allows it, backing up into the wall next to the desk. He grips my waist and I growl into his mouth, tasting him and grinding against him.
His erection hits my stomach, and I reach out to palm him through his pants.
“Fuck, I love when you’re aggressive,” he groans, and I bite his lip in reply. He rewards me with a low moan.
“You’re playing with fire, Princess,” he whispers, his hand trailing up to grip my throat. I whimper at his touch, slick dripping down my jeans.
He’s not going to give me the answers I want, but I don’t care.
His touch feels too good.
Alpha Alpha Alpha!
“Is that why you came in here?” he hisses, his breath tickling my ear. “For me to make you come? Is that what you want, Princess?”
“Yes,” I breathe, even though that’s not why I entered his room.
But damn, this is a great distraction.
He releases his hand from my neck and lifts me by the waist. Instinctively, I wrap my legs around him and he carries me to the desk, placing my ass at the edge. He shoves his sketchbook to the side and yanks at my jeans. I help him kick them off, then his hand grips my black panties and rips them apart.
“Hey!” I protest.
“I’ll buy you new ones,” he promises, sinking to his knees. My cunt is exposed to him, glistening and soaked, and he puts his face directly into my core.
Then, he inhales, pushing my thighs apart with his hands.
“God,” I choke out, my hands combing through his soft hair.
“Fuck, I could die like this,” he murmurs, nuzzling my slit. Slick sticks to his lips, and he slowly licks it away, his gaze never leaving mine.
I could come just from watching him.
Alpha Alpha Alpha!
“Please,” I whimper, scooting my ass until I’m balancing on the edge of the desk.
“Lie back, baby,” he orders, kissing my inner thigh. “And let me take care of you.”
I slowly lean against the desk and bend my knees so my cunt is on full display for him.
He doesn’t waste any time. His tongue plunges into my core while he slips two fingers into me at the same time.
My eyes dart to the ceiling and my vision fades as I focus on the sensations.
Alpha takes care of us.
Alpha protects us.
Then, James changes his pace, and I see stars. He crooks his fingers at the perfect angle and my back bows off the desk.
He removes his mouth from me, gasping for air. “Let me hear it, baby,” he breathes. “C’mon Princess, you can do it, let me hear it, fuck-”
My cunt grips his fingers as a gush of slick spurts from my core.
“Squirt on me Omega, just like that,” he hisses, as I shake, whimpering out my release.
I pinch my nipples, and he does the same to my clit, sending me into a second orgasm.
By the time I come back to reality, James is wiping me clean with a damp cloth.
He’s so good to me.
“You didn’t come,” I pant, struggling to catch my breath.
He chuckles as he helps me put on my jeans, leaving the ruined panties on the floor. “Don’t worry. I’ll have you pay me back later.”
“Hmm.”
“You’re beautiful like this, you know,” he says as I sit up and button my jeans.
I yawn. “How?”
“Satiated. Happy.”
His eyes are bright, his expression earnest.
“I wasn’t that way for a long time,” I say quietly.
He places a hand on my thigh and bites his lip. “I know,” he says. “Me, neither.”
“But you are now?” I ask.
He stands up and presses a kiss on my head. “Yeah. I am.”
He leaves to fetch us water and I lounge in his room while I wait.
Despite his chaotic nature, James’ room is well-organized. He has a canopy bed and reading nook like mine, but bookshelves surround his fireplace, and the massive desk sits near the door.
I can’t imagine why any of them would have stayed somewhere else when they have this incredible.
Wilson makes an entrance, standing on his hind legs and pushing with his massive paws to open the cracked door. He jumps on the desk, planting his cat tush on the sketchbook, and meows.
“Hey. You shouldn’t be on that,” I chide, lifting him off James’ book. My other hand traces the black leather cover, and I flip it open.
He’s magnificent.
Sketches are of everything. Some are intricate while others are barely more than thin outlines.
Complicated patterns, and variations on the designs in the gazebo.
The garden.
A cat paw.
And then…
A bleeding, mutilated heart.
I shudder at the image, my fingers stilling on the corner of the paper.
A muffled noise sounds from downstairs with a mixture of low, masculine voices.
I recognize Grey, Beau, and James.
Alphas!
The volume increases, and it sounds like they’re arguing.
I flip through more of the sketchbook while attempting to eavesdrop.
Wilson wriggles out of my arms and jumps back onto the desk, watching with interest as I turn the pages past the disturbing images, hoping to find one that doesn’t make me shiver.
“Oh, hey.” I point to a particular sketch of a kitten, then stroke Wilson’s nose. “That’s you.”
Baby Wilson is adorable, made of all-black fluff, and has more fur than the body. He’s asleep on a canopy bed, curled up in a ball.
James captured him perfectly.
The voices downstairs grow louder.
I hear Beau’s voice, followed by Grey snapping and James yelling.
I’m about to storm downstairs and demand they stop when another sketch catches my eye.
“What?” I whisper.
It’s kitten Wilson, but he’s being held by a smiling woman.
A smiling woman that looks exactly like me, without the scar.
I stare, dumbfounded.
All three of them are shouting downstairs.
I flip through the rest of the sketchbook and gasp.
Me.
It’s me, with longer hair, minus my scar.
In some, I’m sitting and smiling.
In others I’m in the garden, tending to the flowers.
It’s a sketchbook full of me, followed by a broken heart.
Wilson meows loudly, demanding my attention and swiping gently at my hand.
But I can’t move.
There’s a crash on the first floor, followed by Charlotte’s yelling.
I flip back and forth between the pages, hoping that somehow, I’m wrong.
Maybe it’s not me.
Itcan’tbe me.
Right?
Or maybe he drew them after I came here.
I flip through the book, my stomach churning as I catch a scrawl in the bottom corner of each page.
Oh my God.
“Please, no,” I whisper, as horror washes over me.
He fucking dated them.
They knew me before my accident.
They’re a bunch of liars.
The yelling continues downstairs.
Wilson, my one ally, my only friend, nuzzles at my hand.
I’m numb as I pick up the sketchbook and exit James’ room. Wilson follows me as we descend the flights of stairs, ready to confront the people who betrayed me.