1.
"What are we going to do?" Arla breaks the silence, lifting her hands off the steering wheel long enough to push her glasses back up her nose before focusing on the road again. She clenches the wheel so tightly everyone can see how white her fingers are, all the way from the back seat.
They've been driving away from the Colorado pack for nearly twenty minutes in complete silence, having just met the Alphas of All after Roman killed Ledger King to save her.
"Try not to die." Henley suggests. Roman flexes his arms and those gigantic muscles of his press hard into her skin. "Ow." She tilts her head back and glares at him. It's getting hard to breathe.
He doesn't loosen his grip, jaw clenched and body stiff. "We'll find a way around it." He says through gritted teeth.
"Around what? Her pink hair?" Arla throws a glare back at her brother. "Be realistic. She's different, there's no way around that."
"It doesn't change anything." He dares his sister to disagree.
"It probably does." She says, her mind going back to her moments in Ledger's cellar. The Colorado Alpha was torturing her and she screamed at him to stop. His body stopped in place instantly, even when he visibly fought against the command. She's fairly confident it has something to do with her hair situation, but she's still trying to process it... and is half-convinced she imagined it in the torture hysteria.
"Not to me." Roman's ferocious glare would put off most people, but he's never intimidated her.
The car goes silent. None of them know how to respond to that.
"Your hair is pinker than theirs." It's the first thing Jamie has said since they left the other pack. Her face is pale and her fear is potent. Not because of the Alphas, but because of what they revealed. She's pregnant by a mate she barely considers her friend and Oliver, said mate, looks like he's going to puke. Mating season has only just started, so if not for the Alphas, they would've had a few weeks to think on the situation before finding out. But the Alphas of All can scent even the earliest of pregnancies.
"Can you smell Jamie's baby?" Arla asks. Oliver's face goes from white to green at the question.
"Check." Jamie demands.
Henley tries to lean toward her, since she alone occupies the middle row of the Suburban they've rented, but Roman's arms lock her down tightly. "Let go."
"Not a chance."
After everything that's just happened, she doesn't blame him for not wanting to let go of her and is too tired for an argument. She hasn't slept in forty-eight hours unless you count however long she was unconscious for in the storm cellar, so she's not exactly ready for a fight either. "If you won't let go, you'll have to move with me."
He meets her eyes for a few long seconds, judging to determine how set she is on doing it. When he finally nods once, they lean toward Jamie together. She sniffs her head, then her neck when the girl tilts to the side. She still smells like Jamie, but there's the tiniest hint of something else. She's never smelled anything like the something else, but she's also never actually been around a pregnant woman for more than a minute or two. Male wolves usually get especially protective when their mates are pregnant.
"Well?" Arla demands, eyes on the road while her mind is on their conversation.
"Nothing." Henley lies. It seems like the safest choice in the moment. Roman growls. "Fine, there's something. It's barely there. I've never smelled pregnancy before, but I've never smelled whatever changed Jamie's scent either." They look worried and it worries her. "Roman, I'm sure you can smell it too." She glances at him and tilts her head toward Jamie.
He shakes his head once. "Bad idea."
"It's mating season." Arla throws in.
"Do it." Oliver's order shocks them all into silence. He's the reason it's a bad idea. Most males would rip another guy's head off for sniffing their mate's neck during mating season. During any season really, but mating season is the worst for violence and possessiveness. She sees Jamie's face fall at his words and she turns away from him. Roman scans her face for signs that she'll have a problem with him sniffing Jamie. She doesn't, the girl isn't a threat to her. He leans forward again and sniffs Jamie's hair and neck like she had, though he's much quicker about it. His eyes are on Oliver as he does, waiting for an outburst that never comes.
"Well?" She demands. Roman shakes his head and she groans. "What the hell am I?"
"You're mine." Roman's lips meet her forehead. She rolls her eyes. His arms relax around her the tiniest bit and she gets more comfortable. Not the easiest feat on a man cut like a rock, but she's used to cuddling into his muscles. Her stomach growls as she leans her head to Roman's chest and shuts her eyes. "We need to stop for food." He tells Arla.
"Google it and tell me where to go."
Roman pulls one arm off her long enough to accept his phone from his sister, who hands it back from the front. He adjusts her position on his chest so he can hold her with both arms while finding a place to eat. He navigates Arla there while she dozes against him, complete exhaustion making it nearly impossible to keep her eyes open. Arla parks the car and everyone slips out but them. Roman adjusts his hold on her and tries to maneuver them out of the car, treating her like a Barbie doll once again. If she hated it, she would insist he put her down. But... it's kind of nice. And incredibly hilarious to observe him trying to fit two-hundred-fifty pounds of pure muscle over a seat and out the door while carrying her. "This would be easier if you let go of me." Her face deadpans.
"I don't care." He finally makes it out of the car. She notices grins everyone is trying to hide and bites back one of her own. They all walk into the place together, a diner that can boast more grease than an oil truck, but will also make you feel like you're eating your grandmother's cooking. Everyone squishes into a corner booth, Roman still holding her on his lap. Oliver's ass is already hanging off the cushion and she likes having Roman beneath her, so she doesn't try to get her own seat. The waitress bounces in, her gaze immediately snapping to Roman, then flittering to Oliver and back to Roman. Her man is still shirtless, wearing just a pair of basketball shorts. Although she's on his lap, she looks pretty ghetto in ill-fitted men's clothing with a beanie still trapping most of her waist-length red hair. The waitress probably isn't too much older than them and sees no problem with just standing there checking him out, mesmerized by his muscles. Henley's lips twist into a snarl, but Roman's hand slides under her shirt and spreads her stomach. Her anger fights for a moment before it falls away and she leans into him. "We'll take three of each of the breakfast meals." Roman orders quickly.
There are ten breakfast meals. The lady's eyes widen, Henley's do too. "Um, well, okay. Do you want those brought out together, because I'm not sure we can really do that, but maybe-"
"Whatever works." Roman dismisses her with a flick of his eyes, which settles on Henley as he tugs the beanie off her head and tosses it to the side, leaning his nose to her hair and inhaling softly.
The waitress awkwardly takes everyone's drink order and goes to give the kitchen the bad news.
Henley notices Jamie's fingers moving across her phone and peeks at the article she's reading. It's about if coffee is safe to drink while pregnant.
Roman's hand creeps up her stomach, his thumb brushing just under her boob. She shoots him a warning glare and catches the possessive tinge in his eyes. He's just seen her chained to a wall, killed her torturer and healed her wounds. Him being territorial is understandable, but it's still her boob and they're smashed between a bunch of their friends. Plus, her boobs are mostly uncharted territory thus far in their relationship. But apparently a tired Roman is a handsy Roman, because he keeps his thumb right up underneath her chest. They're all quiet. Everyone but Henley and her man are on their phones while waiting for food. She goes back to dozing against Roman's chest and he buries his nose in her hair. The man is big enough to wrap her up in his arms entirely, making her feel warm and safe. It's not a feeling she's had a lot of in her life and it definitely ranks near the top of her list. His thumb brushes the underside of her boob again and she jerks upward. Roman holds her tight enough that she doesn't smack anything, but everyone looks up from their phones. "Fell asleep a second." She lies. They seem to believe her, but she can practically smell his smugness. When they go back to their devices, she grabs his phone off the table and enters the passcode, pulling up his notes and opening a new one before typing: I WILL END YOU
He takes the phone with the hand that isn't wedged between her braless boobs. IS THAT A PROMISE? His stare is wicked. It burns her from within and he adds, CAREFUL, THEY'RE GOING TO SMELL HOW MUCH YOU WANT ME.
She snags the phone again. She types, YOU'RE BUYING ME A BRA BEFORE WE GO TO THE AIRPORT
He takes it again and says, WHY THE HELL WOULD I DO THAT?
She pauses. MY NIPPLES ARE PRETTY POINTY RIGHT NOW.
Roman reads it and glances down at her chest, before he drops the phone on the table, glare sweeping the diner. A couple of people from different people are shooting interested stares at their group. Probably not because of her nipples, but it works to her advantage anyways. His whole gigantic arm wraps around her boobs, trapping them down. She elbows him in the side, accidentally clipping Arla in the arm. The she-wolf jumps a bit, looking confused, until she notices her brother's arm inside Henley's shirt. Her expression morphs into one of disgust. "Seriously?" She hisses. He shrugs at her.
Their waitress and a few other employees choose the perfect time to interrupt with the drinks and a few plates of food. Everyone digs in, grabbing what they want. The food keeps coming and they all keep eating. Most people are done by the time she finally stops eating. Roman notices she's not eating anymore and stabs a piece of pancake with his fork, lifting it to her lips. She shakes her head and his eyes narrow at her. "You need to eat more."
"I'm full."
"You're a toothpick. Eat."
"No." She leans away from the fork. He scowls at her but eats the bite himself. His other arm is still on her boobs, but she's given up trying to get rid of him. She's gone and made him think everyone is staring at her nipples and now boob freedom is a lost cause.
"I'm worried about you, Hen." His mouth nearly touches her ear, his voice barely loud enough for her to hear.
"Don't be." She tilts her head up and presses a kiss to his cheek. His eyes close at the contact and she nestles back into his neck, full and safe and so damn content it would bring an emotional woman to tears. Whatever else has come of her time in Ledger's cellar, it makes her realize one thing. She's done pushing Roman away.
They finish eating and get back in the car and she's too full to stay awake. She falls asleep in Roman's arms the second they leave the diner, probably snoring his ear off. She wakes up when she's being maneuvered out and carried into a hotel, but he doesn't put her down as he gets everyone's room keys despite the odd looks thrown their way.
After they take an elevator to the third floor, Roman finally sets her down so she can hug Arla and Jamie. After a quick, tight hug, Jamie whispers a promise that they'll talk back in New York and leaves with Oliver. Something tells her this will be a long night for them.
Arla squeezes her. "I'm glad you're okay." And heads off to her own room.
Roman's arm wraps around her waist and leads her into the room he booked them. Her sleepy eyes sweep the space. It's pretty, gray mixed with black and white, but she doesn't care about that. A dumpster would be attractive next to Ledger's storm cellar. She sits on the bed and Roman drops a suitcase she didn't notice beside her. He hands her a plastic bag with the name of a well-known clothing store on it. "You stopped at the store?" She doesn't remember it, but he nods.
"Arla and Jamie went in. You were dead to the world." His lips curve upward.
She yawns. "You asked them to."
"Of course." His lips meet her forehead, then catch her wrist and lifts her tatted Alpha mark to kiss that too. "Go change. You need to sleep." After using the facilities, she wrangles her wild hair into a quick braid, tying it one of the scrunchies she finds in the bag. Also inside is a set of leggings, a t-shirt, panties and a soft sports bra. She steps into the panties, then tugs the t-shirt on before leaving. Roman is leaning against the wall, waiting for her when she steps out. The way his eyes drink her in warms her. "Get some sleep. I'm going to shower." He grabs her face and gives her a quick kiss, holding his forehead to hers for a second before going into the bathroom. He doesn't close the door and her mind goes dry when he steps out of the basketball shorts he has on. Roman catches the scent of her desire and shoots her a dark-eyed look over his shoulder before entering the shower. Unfortunately, the wall separating it from the bathroom isn't see-thru. She stumbles to the bed and collapses on the blankets. They smell weird. So do the new clothes she has on. She doesn't like being surrounded by unfamiliar smells, so she stretches across the bed to Roman's bag and flips it open, reaching in and pulls out the first thing she finds. It's a dark green cotton zip-up jacket. Slipping out of the t-shirt, she tosses it to the floor and zips the jacket. She tugs the hood over her head, inhaling Roman's dizzying delicious scent. Her lips tilt upward and she wrestles the blankets off the bed so she can scoot beneath them. The smooth fabric of the sheets brushes over her bare legs, drawing her further in. She settles on the bed on her stomach, sheets and blankets up to her neck and shuts her eyes. Sleep doesn't come. Mental images of Roman's bare backside and a greasy texture in her mouth left by the diner food earlier keeps her up. Despite her exhaustion, her brain bounces back and forth between the two thoughts. The foul taste in her mouth defeats Roman's ass. Mostly because she's too chicken to take things further with him. She ignores it as long as she can before reluctantly rolling out of bed and shuffling back into the bathroom. Her body is shaking with exhaustion at that point, but her mind is wide awake. Squeezing part of the hotel's complimentary teeny tube of toothpaste on her finger, she rubs it over her teeth like the ghetto chick she is at heart. Her finger is in her mouth when Roman steps out of the shower. He grabs a towel and notices her in front of the sink. They make eye contact in the mirror and her gaze drops to his boner before moving back to his eyes. He looks her up and down, his eyes lingering on her ass. "Damn."
She spits her toothpaste in the sink, even shakier than she was. Rinsing her finger and mouth, she tries to ignore the way Roman looks, wrapping the towel around himself. He's doing nothing to ignore her, quite the opposite in fact. The man hasn't taken his eyes off her since stepping out of the shower. "You're going to complain about my lack of clothing again, aren't you?" She casually turns and leans her back against the counter, using it to remain on her feet.
"Only if it'll turn you on." He crosses the bathroom slowly, towel tented around his lower half. He stops a few inches from her, their bodies close but not touching.
She wants him and now that she's done fighting it... well, things will probably heat up fast. And while she's not ready to jump in and be mates yet, there's a little wiggle room for testing things out. "You could try." She lifts a shoulder. "Because this isn't doing it for me." She gestures to the towel.
Roman's hand moves to the hem of her jacket, resting in the middle of her thighs. He tugs at it, knuckles brushing her bare skin. "Why the hell aren't you wearing pants?"
Heat floods her middle at the low tone of his voice. "None of your damn business." She tries to growl. It's breathy as hell.
Roman steps closer, his hand sliding up her hoodie to the edge of her panties. He pulls the hem from her hip and lets it snap back against her. She bites her lip, hard. "Do you have something against keeping yourself decently covered?" His hand spreads over her bare stomach, pushing her further into the counter.
"My body, my choice." She feigns a glare, pushing his hand off her skin.
He steps even closer, his lower body pressing her into the counter behind her. His fingers lift to the zipper on her hoodie and he tugs it down slowly. "Did you even put a bra on, woman?" His voice is gravel, scratching up against every sensitive part of her as he exposes her bare skin bit by bit. Her breath comes out fast and the scent of both their desire has her head spinning. "How'd I do?" His minty breath tickles her face.
"Nothing." She lies, enjoying it far too much to let it end. "I'm hardly staying awake."
"How about this?" His hand slides into the side of her hoodie, finding her boob and squeezing gently.
Her heart stops. "Nope." She struggles for air.
"Maybe if I-" his fingers are moving back to her panties when the shrill ringing of his phone turns both of their heads to the bed.
She groans and drops her head to his chest. "Seriously?"
"Ignore it." He murmurs, fingers trailing down her stomach.
It rings again. Seems even louder the second time. "It's gone. The mood's dead." She sighs, pushing him toward the bed. "Answer it and we'll go to bed."
Roman stalks across the room, the towel falling off as he goes. He grabs his phone and holds the button down to shut it off before tossing it in his suitcase. He's on his way back to her, naked and ready for a hell of a lot more than just teasing each other, when someone pounds on the door. "Rome." Arla yells. "Answer your phone!"
He looks between her and the door. He's in front of her in an instant. His hands cradle her face before his lips crash down on hers for a quick but sizzling kiss, made hotter by the way his erection presses into her lower belly. "You're the sexiest thing I've ever seen, Hen. When you're ready, I'm locking you in my apartment for a month and making love to you until you forget your own damn name." His hands leave her face long enough to zip her hoodie up before he strides back to the door. She opens her mouth to tell him he's not wearing anything when he growls, "And put a bra on." Before ripping the door open. She tilts her head to see past him to a stunned and disgusted Arla.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" She shrieks, spinning around to face the hallway.
Roman glances down at his naked self. "Sorry." He tosses an apology out, shutting the door long enough to pull some jeans on. "Alright, what do you want?" He asks as he opens it back up.
"London called. Someone found a dead body in the elevator." Arla bites her lip. The mood changes instantly. Whatever steam is in the air vanishes, replaced by anger. "It was Ella. Someone murdered Ella. London sent a picture. There was blood everywhere, she-"
"Show me." Roman reaches for the phone, but Arla backs up quickly.
"You don't want to see."
"Give me the phone." He snarls, ripping it from her hand. Henley's never seen him lose his temper with her like that. He stares at the picture for a few long moments before handing it back to Arla. That is the moment she sees it, the cruel Alpha she expected him to be when they first met. His eyes are nearly black, body abnormally still. "We'll take the redeye home. I'll call to make sure it's delayed, you grab everyone else."
Arla's hand lands on Roman's bicep. "It's not your fault. You can't protect everyone from everything." She says, voice quiet.
"I can damn well try." His voice holds no hint of the beast within. "And I can rip the bastard who dares mess with my pack to pieces so small his own mother won't recognize him."
Arla leaves and he lifts the phone, speaking rapidly as he strides back to her. Grabbing the pile of clothes she left on the counter, he shoves them into her arms and steps out of the bathroom before he grabs his suitcase and leaves the door. The door slams shut behind him, leaving her in a space that suddenly feels too empty and too cold. She pulls her clothes on numbly.
Jamie comes in and grabs her a few minutes later, her face void of all color. She notices the girl's hands shaking and takes one, squeezing it. No one speaks to each other on the drive to the airport. Roman's snapping into his phone while clutching her to his chest. Even as they make their way through the airport and sit in the first-class section of the plane, he doesn't release her hand for a second. Someone in the pack was brutally murdered, someone who meant something to Roman and his reaction tells her it's not something that happens often, if ever. Which means that somehow it's probably her fault.
