Page 8 of G.O.D.S Omnibus

“Jolie, you didn’t,” he chastises.

“Hey, I was alone in a strange house and needed something to sleep in. I only took a shirt and pants, butapparentlyhe is even territorial about his clothes. They practically ripped them from my body, but never mind—I think I may be someone’s pet now.”

“Please tell me Laughn wasn’t there.” I hear him curse a few times.

“He was, and he’s one of a kind.” I honestly have no other way to explain Laughn, with his black contacts and his bright tattoos that covered most of the skin I could see. Plus his tongue—just damn weird.

“Shit, Jolie! How many times have we had this talk about boundaries? I know you love to push them, but when you’re in a new placement, you shouldn’t snoop through people’s belongings.” I roll my eyes. It isn’t like I went through their expensive jewellery or prized possessions. “Don’t roll your eyes at me.”

“Brennan, all those lectures will give you wrinkles. Stop worrying, I think we all bonded. You have nothing to stress about.”

He huffs, and I wait for him to comment on my smartass attitude, but it doesn’t come. A muffled voice on his end distracts him.

“I have to go, but I will be back soon. Make sure you take my car and go shopping.” He ends the call abruptly.

I guess Idoneed to go shopping; more than one pair of underwear would be nice. I have no idea what happened to the bag I had with me when I was kidnapped. A chill runs down my spine just thinking about it. Why me? What was the point? If they wanted to, they could have caught me. I’m sure of it. Was Trace involved in any of this, or dotheyhave him? I plan to figure this out. Brennan isn’t off my suspect list just yet. He has to be connected to Trace somehow. I have no proof, just a gut feeling.

Shopping—I should get it over with. Looking down, I figure this will do. The underwear I washed last night are still slightly damp but wearable, so I slide them on under the shirt, but remain sans bra. My reflection shows I have superficialscratches on my face and neck from the tree branches, and my lip is slightly swollen.

Music still thumps loudly throughout the house. I hope I can slip out undetected.

After pulling on my chucks, I make my way downstairs, but to my disappointment, the house is bustling with people.

I slip through mostly unnoticed as I make my way towards the kitchen, or the direction I hope is the kitchen.

“The fuck are you doing here?” Boston snarls from behind me.

All the hairs on my neck stand on end and goosebumps cover my skin at his proximity. Before I can answer, his large hand wraps around the back of my neck, forcing me forward into what looks to be a sitting room.

Fighting against him, I trip, landing on my knees in front of one of the guys from earlier. He has a punk look about him, wearing black skinny jeans with holes over the knees, his defined six pack peeking from under his leather jacket. He’s smaller in frame than Boston with a mean glare that could cut through glass. I should tell him 90s grunge bands called and want their outfit back. And I hold to my stance on why anyone would get a face tattoo—his says “Checkmate” right down the side of his jaw.

“While you’re down there,” he states, lowering his fly.

I scowl up at him from my hands and knees. “If you put it anywhere near my mouth, I will bite it off.”

He doesn’t react to my statement, but he also keeps his dick in his pants.

“Baby, you were made for me. I love it dirty and rough.” Laughn reaches from behind me and picks me up in one swoop, taking me back to his seat and depositing me on his lap. His long tattooed arms wrap around my waist, and I push against him, but he has a tight hold on me.

“Let me go or I will bite you,” I snap.

“Don’t make promises you’re not willing to keep.” He laughs but loosens his grip, allowing me to stand from his lap.

There is a girl sitting on the floor beside Laughn and I look down at her. I begin to say something but close my mouth straight away. Not my damn business. There are so many people here dancing and chatting, and I don’t want to draw any more attention when I need to leave.

“As nice as this is,” I gesture around the room, my tone laced with sarcasm, “Brennan wants me to go shopping for clothes.”

This doesn’t seem like a normal party. This room seems to only be for those close to the guys or the ones they allow to get close. There doesn’t seem to be anything fun happening. A few girls are dancing, but almost everyone else is getting high or drunk.

“No,” Boston snaps, the veins in his neck pulsating.

“Excuse me, but you have no say in what I do or where I go,” I snap right back at him.

Laughn leans over and slaps my ass with a laugh. “Give him hell, baby.”

“I’m not your baby,” I seethe, stomping towards Boston.

He gives me a look that tells me he’s bored and fed up with my presence, but I can’t let him dictate what I can and cannot do. He certainly isn’t the boss of me.

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