Page 19 of Ruffled Feathers

But Strat ignored him. “Is that a cheesecake from Jill’s CheeseCheeks? That place is my dirty little secret. It’s around the corner from my gym, and I’ve definitely undone my hard work on the way home more than once. Their Nutter Butter cheesecake…” He drifted off, longing on his face, and I laughed.

Opening the lid of the box, I showed him the half cheesecake. “Unfortunately, it isn’t Nutter Butter, but you’re welcome to a piece of my Basque cheesecake.”

He clapped his hands together with a grin.Man, did he get more handsome in the last few years?He’d always been very pretty, in the same way his sister was. Great cheekbones, golden skin. He was a little like Truett in that way.

“I’d like that, Otillie-James. Every day is a cheat day if there’s cheesecake involved—wouldn’t you say so, Truett?” Walking over to a coffee machine that sat on an antique side table, Strat pulled out three small plates and teaspoons. Of course he’d have a coffee machine and plates in his office. Why not?

“I’m a bit of a coffee snob, so this was the first thing I bought for my office when I got the assistant district attorney job. Can’t burn the midnight oil if you aren’t properly caffeinated.”

He placed everything on his desk, and I used the knife he’d produced from somewhere to slice up the cheesecake and move it messily to each plate. I wasn’t going to win Hostess of the Year anytime soon—yeah, that was a real thing down here. A way for Omegas to woo the Alphas. Thankfully, I’d only been dragged to a couple, though the canapés were usually good, and everyone generally ignored me, so it wasn’t too painful.

After passing a slice to Strat, then another to Truett—who begrudgingly took it—I sat back down. “Sorry. I was on my wayhome with it in the car when Truett called, and I didn’t want to waste it.”

Strat groaned around his fork. I totally got the food porn thing now. Watching his tongue flick out and get a piece of cheesecake from his lip was absurdly attractive.

Clearing his throat, Truett eyed me, his expression telling me to behave. What did he think I was going to do? Climb across the desk and offer myself up for Strat to use as a plate? Unlikely.

Though that one might go in the Flick Folder for later, once I was home alone.

Strat gave me a warm look that told me he knew exactly where my thoughts were, and I suddenly realized why he was so different from Truett. Physically, they were quite similar: stacked and strong, wearing the hell out of their tailored suits. No, it was their auras that were different.

Strat Wilmington was an Omega. An Omega district attorney?Hell yeah.A sexy-as-fuck district attorney.

“So, if you’re amiable to doing a little work on your break,” Truett snarked, shaking me from my lustful reverie, “could we talk about the charges against my client here?”

Strat met my eyes, and I thought perhaps he was laughing at Truett. “Of course, Truett. I haven’t forgotten that you’re all work and no play. The evidence isn’t circumstantial, but I also know that if this goes to court, you’ll be able to drag enough character witnesses from the woodwork to have her declared a saint, my own family included.” He lifted his chin in my direction. “Otillie-James, patron saint of strays and lone wolves.” I flushed, but he continued. “So how about you tell me what you were doing there?”

“You already have her statement,” Truett argued.

Shrugging, Strat forked another bite of cheesecake into his mouth. Chewing slowly, he just smirked. “Be that as it may,I’d like to hear it directly from her—if that’s okay with you, Counsel.”

Truett looked like he was going to argue again, and I placed my hand on his thigh to stop him. It was a hard thigh. Obviously, he didn’t skip leg day.

Wait, what am I doing again?I really had to get my libido under control, before I ended up cellmates with someone named Barb the Bitchmaker.

“It all started with some kittens…”

Nine

Strat

Although her name had been familiar, I hadn’t remembered much about Otillie-James Baler. She’d been Elizabeth’s friend from her school days, but I’d already graduated high school by the time she started coming around.

Whenever I saw her, it was usually just in passing if I’d had to come home for something, a situation I tried to avoid wherever possible. While I used to miss Elizabeth, I’d found it better to pick her up from school and take her out for ice cream or some shit, rather than to come back to the house and risk a possible run-in with the parents.

The person I did know—and know well—was Truett Heathstone. He had some kind of big idea that we were archnemeses or some such shit, but really, I just loved to get him riled up. Even in college, he’d been a hot-blooded Alpha. Anytime I beat him in anything, he’d get all red in the face, his sharp jaw flexing angrily. It had been kind of hot.

It made my Omega nature purr that he never gave me an inch of leeway, despite my designation. He wasn’t disrespectful, but he never stepped aside just so I could come first. No, that first fiery look had been all it took to make it my mission in life to piss him off as much as possible.

I was bisexual, and I definitely got the same vibes from Truett, but I’d never heard even a rumor he played around with guys as well as girls. Maybe he kept it under wraps; god knows I did. Especially after Elizabeth had told our parents she was a lesbian after she turned eighteen, and that they should go fuck themselves. I didn’t quite know what they’d do if we both came out. Probably write us both out of their wills, pretend we were dead, and adopt another child to replace us. They were vindictive like that.

At least I’d managed to talk them around, ensuring that they didn’t cancel Elizabeth’s trust fund from our grandparents in a fit of homophobic rage. I’d play the good straight son for a few more years until Elizabeth got her money, then I’d see how things unraveled.

The true joy of being bisexual was that in front of me was a smorgasbord for all senses. Separately, they were attractive. Truett, with his flexing jaw, hard edges, and overwhelming Alpha energy. Otillie-James, with her soft curves, big eyes, and full, soft lips. She was Unshown, but I didn’t care about those kinds of labels.

When she put her hand on his thigh, I briefly wondered if they were together. My dick hardened at just the thought. To play with these two would be something else.

“It all started with some kittens. Well, no. It started with a three-legged bait dog that another animal fosterer told me about. She told me that there was a cockfighting ring somewhere on the east side of town that happened every weekend, and that they couldn’t find it. She told me to make a police report, because hers had gone nowhere, and the more we reported it, the more they’dhaveto look into it.

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