Page 35 of Tangled In Tinsel & Knots
“We figure out if she feels it too,” Chris says, leaning back like he’s working through a bar tab, not our entire damn futures. “Then we court her. Show her we’re worth the mess.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “She’s drowning in career shit and trust issues. You think she’s gonna hear three bounty-hunting Alphas say ‘You’re ours’ and clap her hands like it’s Christmas?”
Chris shrugs. Kane half chuckles.
I want to hit them both.
“I think biology is gonna make the call before her brain gets there,” Kane adds. He crosses his arms, a tank of a man, blocking the only exit. “Her heat will show sooner or later. Better she’s with us than alone. Or worse, handled by some random asshole who doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing.”
The image punches every rational thought straight out of my skull. Some unknown Alpha’s hands on her. Her in heat. My teeth grind loudly enough that Chris raises a brow.
“Easy,” he drawls, fighting a grin. “Thought you were the patient one.”
“Since when?” Kane shoots back.
“Since,” I say, adjusting the stupid hat, bells jingling like a damn mockery, “I realized scaring her off would be the dumbest shit we could do. She’s skittish. One wrong move and she’ll run.”
Kane nods. “So we play it careful. Get close. Let her settle. Wait for the right moment.”
I hate how reasonable that sounds. “Exactly,” I admit out loud. Though, inside, every instinct is clawing at me, telling me to find her, put my scent on her, make sure the whole damn world knows she’s not fair game.
Chris shoots a look between us.
“So… careful?”
I shrug. “Careful-ish. She’s an Omega, not a porcelain figurine. But yeah. Slow enough that she doesn’t think we’re hunting her.”
Kane’s mouth kicks up like he’s already ruining the plan. “Wearehunters.”
“Yeah,” I say. “But not for her. Not unless she asks real nice.”
Chris whistles low. “Fuck, she’s gonna kill us.”
“Probably,” I mutter. “And I’ll still hold her fucking hand while she does it.”
Kane snorts out a laugh, the tension easing just a little. But under it, beneath the jokes, the pacing, the swearing, we’re all thinking the same thing. If she’s ours… we’re making her ours.
The door opens, and Hannah strolls in, all smiles. Every thought in my head evaporates.
She’s wearing the elf costume, she has no idea how good it fits her.
The dress is green, fitted from a sweetheart neckline that showcases her breasts, that impossibly small waist. It flares at the hips, the skirt hitting mid-thigh and showing off legs covered in red-and-white-striped tights. Little boots with bells complete the look.
Her dark hair is down, waves falling past her shoulders, and she put glitter on her cheeks. She looks like every fantasy I didn’t know I had wrapped up in festive packaging.
I’m staring. We’re all gawking.
“Well?” She does a little spin, bells jingling, and the skirt flares enough to show more thigh. “What do you think?”
None of us can answer.
My mouth is hanging open. My brain is completely offline. Every instinct I have is screaming at me to cross the room and?—
“That good, huh?” Her laugh is nervous, and she’s blushing now, that pretty pink climbing her cheeks. “Come on, we need to get out there. The client is about to open the gates.”
She takes a quick glance at Chris in his Santa suit, then at Kane and me in our elf costumes. Her eyes linger down our bodies, widen slightly, then jerk away.
She loves what she sees. I grin widely.
