Page 88 of Hell on Wheels
“But it’s true and we both know it. Discovering you enjoy letting go of all that ‘team captain, king of the pride’ bullshit you exude daily doesn’t make you less manly.” He grins and cuts his eyes over to where Rogue is lying with the other three pillowed on her chest and stomach. “In fact, our girl willloveknowing about this kink. She adores being in charge and Angelo and Reb willalwaysfight her. Having more ‘good boys’ will delight her… and… well…”
I flush again as I ask, “What about you?”
“I’veneverhad my own, and it’s oddly appealing,” he admits with a matching color tinting his face. It only lasts for a minute before he’s smirking. “Especially one who’s a big, sexy himbo like you.”
What.
I growl low, tightening my arms around him as I glare down at his handsome face. “I amnota fucking himbo. I’m very smart.”
“Who’s very smart?”
The question comes from Rogue and as she yawns and stretches, the men surrounding her move as well. My face heats even more and Damon laughs softly before he replies, “We all are, Sparkles. We’ve made a family together, and that will make it hard for any of our enemies to pry us apart.”
She yawns, letting out an adorable squeak she’ll adamantly deny later. “Good, ‘cause I’m tiring of all these people fucking withus. Does that mean you idiots will stop acting weird with each other?”
I snort. “Never, Wheels. we’re dudes; it’s gonna happen. But now that you and Reb slapped skin, it’s bound to be less stressful—I think.”
“Shut. Up. Glaser.” Rebel’s growl makes me snicker. His eyes are closed and, like Angelo, his head is pillowed on one of Rogue’s bejeweled boobies. He’s not exactly threatening, whether he thinks he is or not.
“D, he’s being mean to me,” I pout.
“Rebel, stop being mean to my boy,” he says automatically. My cock kicks against his and he grins broadly—he knows I liked that.
“Fuck off, little D.”
Rogue smacks him on the back of the head. “Stop being mean tomyboy, you asshat.”
This time Damon ducks his head and I laugh softly. He stretches up, nipping the cords in my neck as I purr even louder than before. His voice is low as he rubs along my body. “Ilikethe purr.”
“For fuck’s sake…” Angelo’s exasperated voice drifts over from Rogue’s other side. “Look, you assholes. If you stop being loud, I’ll buy youboth‘good boy’ tattoos and merch, plus I’ll get the rest of us ‘bad boy’ ones.Anythingto stop this jabber when it feels like I have a hangover, even though I didn’t drink much.”
I blink, realizing he’s right. Thisisweird.
“You all feel like that?” Javier pipes up from her stomach.
A glance between us tells me we do, and we look at one another curiously.
Just what happened last night?
My Love Is Your Love
Whatever force in the universe decided I needed five mates when I could barely handle a one-night stand before this month is probably laughing their asses off.
I close my eyes as I lean into the luxurious rainfall shower and let it wash away the remnants of last night. We made a hell of a mess of the room and each other, and the group recollection of everything after Reb blew his load is hazy as fuck. Vague impressions, groans, and marks on our bodies are what’s visiblyleft of the evening, but there’s also this buzzing energy nipping along my skin that tells more than hot as hell fucking went on.
Even the guys feel it, though in vastly different ways. Angelo has a weird hangover, while Archie and Damon are eye-fucking each other like they’re in heat. Javi seems to run hot, as he lost control of his flames twice and burned my comforter set, while Reb is practically Day-Glo. I’m shedding sparkles like a hyperactive rave kid and they’re running down the shower drain as I try to make sense of it all.
No one ever warned me that mating did this shit.
Of course, the city’s caladrius couldn’t have known I’d have five mates. Thathasto be part of this insanity, right? Lots of supes have multiple mates, particularly canine and felines shifters, but five fated that I’ve known most of my life? It’s way too coincidental for my comfort. My Guardian senses are tingling, just as they did when I found out the Apalachin invite showed up with everything perfectly set for me to attendwiththe guys. The pieces are coming together so seamlessly that a higher plan is definitely in play.
Reaching for the shampoo, I squeeze some into my palm and start working it through my thick hair. It takes forever to get products out of it, so I’ve got time to kill spinning this situation around until I get my hands on its throat. We’ve spent way too much time scrambling the past two weeks since Mina’s defection; it’s made us be reactive rather than proactive, and I worry that’s to our detriment. Being forced to find clothes for the meet, race under fire, and attend that damn demon dinner was probably all some sort of distraction. Or if not entirely scripted, whoever is pulling our strings is using the shit being thrown our way to their advantage.
It just feels… manufactured.
Not my guys, of course, though I know the cosmos has its part in that, too, but these events and people coming at us. It’s just more than usual, even for a big city like Bay City, and I’m very curious why Mina and the Sickos, plus a rando sniper at the rally, some vague mafia dicks, and Tracer Finn of all fucking shifters seem to lurk around every corner.
“Fuck,” I whisper as I rinse out the shampoo and work conditioner in next. I don’t give a shit what the hell is going on anymore; I’m getting self-care in because I keep getting dragged in front of arrogant assholes who want to judge me. Even if I don’t give a shit about their opinions, I have to make sure I don’t embarrass the guys or their stupid, judgemental parents. “Not that it will work, but I should give it a shot.”