Page 11 of Ronen
Well, that was likely sound advice, but I couldn’t heed it.
Books were one of my comfort things, and the ones that had Ronen’s scent on them? There was something about them that made it impossible for me to not keep at least one from every batch I checked out and add it to my hoard.
And it also seemed to be the only way to get the man to actually speak to me. Even if he was chastising me for losing books.
It was hot, okay? The way his back got ramrod straight, and his eyes flashed fire that he did his best to keep inside, always staying the consummate professional. The way he bit off each word, like the jagged edge of a knife. And every once in a while, he would say a certain word, with a slight British accent.
I knew his omega dad was British, so I figured that was where he had picked it up, and when he did it my dick got so fucking hard.
It was seriously sexy.
There’s something not right with you, my dragon grumbled.Not right at all.
Did you hear what he said?I asked my dragon, my stomach giddy like it was full of butterflies. I fought the urge to bounce on my feet like an excited kid.
He said a lot. I zoned out. What did I miss?
Asshole. He said Ronen keeps all the ducks! That has to mean something, right? He’s keeping them! I don’t know where, but that doesn’t even matter.
I bet if he knew you were the one leaving them, he’d toss them straight into the trash.
Why do I bother talking to you?
Feel free to stop at any time.
The radio pinned to my shoulder crackled, my dispatch letting me know an accident a few streets over had been reported.
I’d have time to look for more ducks later to leave for Ronen; right now, duty called.
Chapter Five
Ronen
Pulling my Jeep into my parents’ drive, I parked next to my brother Matty’s classic muscle car. The setting sun bounced off the shiny blue paint of his Ford Shelby Cobra GT500, nearly blinding me.
Matty had spent the last year bouncing around Europe, doing research on fated mates for a book he was writing. He’d only been stateside since just before Christmas, but I was glad he was home. He might be older than me by almost ten years, but he was one of my favorite people, and I’d missed him while he’d been gone.
Giving a cursory knock, I opened the door, peeking cautiously around the door. Since we were meeting here before heading over to my grandmother’s house for a family dinner, I felt it was safe enough to enter.
My brother and I had learned quickly after we had moved out, to always knock and wait if our parents weren’t expectingus. One time of walking in on them having sex on the dining room table was enough to scar me for life. I still didn’t like eating at that table. I didn’t care how many times my Papa claimed he had cleaned it.
I smelled him a second before a heavily muscled arm wrapped around my neck from behind, and a large body tried its best to take me down to the floor.
Honestly, would my brother never learn?
He might have over six inches on me in height, and close to seventy pounds in weight–mostly muscle–but in a few quick moves our parents had taught us, I freed myself and Matty was staring up at our parents’ living room ceiling, blinking his light blue eyes at me. For good measure, I rested my foot on his chest and stared down my nose at him.
“It never gets old,” I commented dryly.
From the corner of my eye, I caught sight of our alpha dad, Jamie, moving silently down the stairs. The way the man still managed to move without making a sound, at his age, was a mystery none of us had yet to figure out.
“What doesn’t?” Matty grinned up at me, his eyes dancing with merriment, his voice carrying a distinct English accent like our papa’s did. He had lost it somewhat growing up in Sweet Alps, but all it took was him spending any amount of time across the pond and it instantly came back.
“Putting you on your arse, son,” our omega papa, Bash, told him. He was carrying a mug, steam wafting off the contents, which I knew was tea. Papa was a Brit clear to his bones and refused to ever entertain the idea of coffee passing his lips.
Dad pecked Papa’s lips, grinning wolfishly. “Reminds me of when you laid me on my ass in Mom’s kitchen.”
Papa settled his thin frame at the dining room table, taking a sip of his tea. “Such fond memories.”
