Page 65 of Nest of Thieves
* * *
The first thing I do is eat. No one, not even an omega full of rage, can destroy alphas on an empty stomach. The best sort of havoc is wrecked after a solid meal. The men are still locked in their office.
At one point, I hear Mac shout, but it’s otherwise quiet in the house. I polish off a sandwich and some chips with homemade salsa that’s hot enough to warrant two glasses of water. The spice only makes my blood pump faster, and when I finish cleaning the mess I made, I slip up the stairs and start in the game room.
I didn’t have brothers growing up, but I’ve been around my fair share of boys obsessed with their games. It’s a trivial cruelty, but it’s only the beginning. I turn on the first system and smirk when it auto logs in. An avatar with hair like Mac’s—black, long on top and shaved on the sides—and an eyebrow ring flashes across the screen before a series of games line up under the recently played section. I navigate to the settings and search through the various sections until I find what I’m looking for.
My thumb hesitates over the button to hit confirm for a millisecond. I press it and watch the screen process the command.
Reset completeflashes on the screen.
A sliver of guilt works up my spine, but I push it aside and reset the other two consoles. I turn the gaming systems and TV off and return to my room, changing into a red skirt and a pretty black blouse that cuts low over my cleavage. Some games are best played dirty.
* * *
Doc shows up at three, as he said he would, but as soon as he’s done dressing Mac’s wound, the alpha heads straight back to the home office. I saw glimpses of the other guys throughout the day, but they’ve been so focused on work. I’m betting the blood they came home covered in has something to do with it. It isn’t until half-past six when the buzzer for the gate sounds.
I’m perched on a barstool, sipping on a beer I took from the fridge, when all three of them emerge from the office. Vette appears first, noticing the beer. His eyebrows pull together in question.
“What’s the saying? Mi casa es su casa? Or, in this case, su casa es mi casa.”
A ghost of a smile plays along his lips. “Something like that.”
“What are you wearing?” Mac asks, stopping dead in his tracks at Vette’s side.
Lark appears next. His eyes stray over my bare skin. I swivel in the seat and cross my legs. My toes are painted pale pink, and Mac’s gaze drops to my bare feet. His teeth sink into his bottom lip.
“Don’t tell me you have a foot fetish.”
“I didn’t,” he says.
“Didn’t?”
Mac shakes his head, flicking his eyes to meet mine. “What are you up to, Kitten?”
I shrug and take a sip of my beer. “Just enjoying the day.”
The doorbell rings.
“Uh-huh. Watch her,” Mac tells the other two, pushing the longer strands of his black hair back.
Vette and Lark come into the kitchen. Lark surveys the room while Vette grabs three beers. Despite what they think, I haven’t been drinking. I poured out half the beer and I’ve been waiting for them to show up.
“Hope you’re hungry.” Mac sets two large pizza boxes on the counter.
“I already ate.”
The three of them look at me.
“What? Did you expect me to starve myself while you were busy? I’m capable of feeding myself.” And of locating the liquor cabinet.
I hop off the stool and drop to my knees where Mac stands. His eyes widen and I chuckle, reaching for the small door behind his legs. Once he realizes what I’m doing, he steps aside. I grab a bottle of whiskey and bat my eyelashes at Mac. He watches me with hooded eyes, his thoughts written in large print across his face. I stand, intentionally brushing my hand over his thigh but avoiding his crotch.
His chest rumbles with a purr, and I smile, setting the bottle on the counter. I give Lark and Vette a hopeful look.
“I’ve been so bored. Drink with me?”
Vette’s eyes narrow, and he rounds the counter, grabbing the bottle of tequila from the cabinet and pushing the whiskey aside. He grabs four shot glasses and lines them up. My eyes land on the one with a red flower on the front.
