Page 11 of Kiss of Smoke

When I swam back to consciousness, warm hands tended me and low, gentle murmurs filled my ears.

“I can do it,” I mumbled, trying to sit up.

Someone pulled me against a hard chest, and a masculine chuckle vibrated my back. “Hush, lass, you’re limp as a noodle. We’ve got it.”

I relaxed, letting my eyes drift shut. More murmurs, and then a warm cloth wiped at my breasts and swiped between my legs. After a minute, the bed dipped and another hard chest touched my front. I lay sandwiched between the two men, their big bodies emanating heat.

This feels like a dream.

Lips touched my neck, and Alec’s brogue curled around me. His voice seemed to echo, the words overlapping. “That’s right, Chloe. ‘Tis a dream. ‘Tis naught but a dream.”

Chapter Three

ALEC

Lachlan had taken a glass of scotch into the bathroom, which meant he was angry. He always drank when he was upset, and considering he’d polished off two bottles since we landed in Inverness, he was furious.

He also hadn’t spoken to me in several hours. I was no detective, but I considered that pretty strong evidence I was the source of his anger. The woman sleeping a few chambers down had something to do with it, too. Fortunately, she’d slept through the rest of the flight, the transfer between plane and car, and the entire ride to the castle. The situation with her was delicate enough without introducing Lachlan’s misgivings into the mix.

I sprawled in an oversize chair in his bedroom, a sigh building in my chest as I eyed the bathroom door. How much longer was he going to be? I shifted my gaze to the dresser, where he’d left the third bottle of scotch. I wasn’t above taking his alcohol hostage if it meant he was forced to stop giving me the cold shoulder.

As if I’d summoned him, the door opened and he walked out, scotch in hand and a white towel around his hips.

He stopped when he saw me. “You’re still up.”

“Aye. According to relationship experts, you should never go to bed angry. And I know you’re mad at me.”

He grimaced. “You sound like an American.”

“Verra well. Cross then. You’re cross with me, and I think I know why. Also, our mate is American, so you should probably get used to the slang.”

“You dinnae ken she’s our mate.”

I sat up. “I bloody well do, Lach, and so do you. Pretend all you want, but Chloe Drexel is ours.”

“She’s human.”

“So?”

“So I hoped for something more. A mate worthy of our race.”

“I can’t tell if you’re making a joke or not. You’re so bad at it.”

He stared at me a moment, then tossed back his drink and stalked to the dresser.

I let my sigh escape at last. “That’s not going to work, you know. It’ll take half the cellar to get you drunk, and you’ll burn it off the first time you shift.” I glanced out the mullioned windows. “Which should be tomorrow, since it’s nearly a full moon.”

He met my gaze in the dresser mirror as he poured another finger of scotch. “What do you know of the moon’s call?”

“I know you can be a right git when you’re on the cusp of a forced shift. Case in point, you continue to insist a human isn’t good enough for you, which is utter shite.”

“Piss off, Alec.”

“Now who sounds American?” I stood and crossed the room, letting my gaze roam down his bare back and tight ass as I neared him. His dark hair was damp from his shower, and beads of moisture still dotted his golden skin. Even after being sated—scratch that, very sated—by the session with Chloe, I was instantly aroused at the mere sight of Lachlan. My body’s reaction to him stopped surprising me a long time ago. It was as ordinary to me now as breathing or blinking—an involuntary response that happened merely by being in the same room with him.

Damned inconvenient sometimes, but a fact nonetheless.

I reined in my lust as I stopped behind him. Because as much as those relationship experts might hand out clichéd advice, they had a point. If I let the disagreement between Lachlan and me fester, it could end up ruining everything. We had to talk.

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