Despicable by Rory Miles
RONAN
We don’t get much further in our scheming after Trix leaves. Neither of us are investigators, and Creed is half listening. His eyes keep straying to the window, his attention obviously drifting to a pretty blonde with a great rack. Can’t say I blame him. Trix is funny, gorgeous, and is easy to talk to.
“So, what’s happening with you and Trix?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. We slept together, and I like her.”
“You think that’s a good idea?” I’m not trying to discourage him. I’m genuinely curious. She was flirting with me, and he didn’t mind one bit. If he’s ready to pursue a relationship, I don’t want to fuck it up for him.
“I think we could all use a little feminine attention.”
Shuffling the cards a few times, I watch the laminated paper fan apart and weave together. “What about Dax?”
“We’ve been living together for two years, sharing things the entire time. I think we’ll figure it out.”
He’s so matter of fact about it, which is probably a good thing. Still though, we may all be more than happy to share, but we don’t know that she will be. By nature, Trix is fun and flirtatious. That doesn’t mean she’ll want me. I can tell she’s attracted to Dax, and while she and I made easy banter during our poker game, it was hard to tell what she thought of me.
I won’t stand in their way if they want to pursue her, but I’ll have to take some steps to protect myself from another rejection. It won’t be nearly as hurtful as the fated mate bond breaking, but I can only be told I’m worthless and unwanted so many times.
Trix will be good for my friends though, and even if she and I are never more than friends, it’ll be refreshing to have another person around.
* * *
BELLATRIX
Walking through the small store with Dax is oddly familiar, almost like we’ve done it a hundred times before. Probably because we get along so well. My eyes catch on a bright red package and I grab his arm, stopping him.
“I love Munchos.”
“You already picked out candy, cookies, and beef jerky.”
Narrowing my eyes, I give him a pointed look, silently reminding him that this was his idea and he can’t be a party pooper.
“Fine. Get them.”
“Thank you.” I snatch the bag up and glance around the shelves once more, eye the small basket Dax is carrying, and decide I really have gotten enough food.
“Oh, so now we’re letting people take whatever they want?” an incredibly pissed off voice asks from behind us.
We both spin around in surprise, and I take in Harlow’s haggard appearance. I’ve only really seen her once, but something tells me the pajama look she’s rocking is not her usual style.
“Right. You like tea,” I say, moving down the aisle to where the boxes are. “What’s your favorite?”
She scowls at me, then glares at Dax. “The spicy chai.”
“Really, Dax? There are at least twenty boxes here.” I shake my head at his ridiculous rule and gesture Harlow over. “Bring me your basket.”
Eyeing me like I’m not trustworthy, she slowly steps around Dax and comes to stand by me. I take her basket and put it next to the shelf, then use my arm to sweep every last box into it, assuming she used all her loose leaf chai and needs the backup.
“Trix,” Dax groans, but I shush him and grin at Harlow. “Stupid ass rules, am I right?”
Her face softens a little, and I see a hint of a smile. “Pretty much.”
“Need anything else?”
Waving me off, she grabs her basket. “I can get it.” She flips Dax off. “I think Bellatrix should be in charge.”
“Call me Trix.”
She looks at me, still a little guarded, but nods. “Trix for president.”
Bursting into an obnoxious laugh, I pump my fist into the air. “Let chaos reign!”
“You’re insane,” Harlow whispers. “But I think I like it. Sorry for the pan.”
I shrug. “I’d do the same. Don’t let Dax push you around though. If he gives you a hard time, you tell me.”
“Trix, you’re going to get spanked if you keep it up.”
His words only make me grin. Harlow volleys her gaze between us.
“What’s it like having a magical vagina?”
“I haven’t slept with him yet.”
She lifts an eyebrow. “Yet. See? Magical vagina. Bitch.”
“If it makes you feel better, this magical vagina also got rejected.”
Frowning at that, she sighs. “It shouldn’t, but it does.”
“Are you okay?” I ask, following her as she picks out a few other things.
“As okay as I can be,” she confesses. “Being exiled is one thing, but worrying about getting killed sucks.”
“Yeah. Do you want to stay with me and the guys? You shouldn’t be all alone.”
She stiffens and her smile falls. “I’m fine. I don’t need your help.”
Confused by her sudden shift in mood, I ease away from her. “Okay. The offer still stands though.”
“Thanks, but no thanks.” She grabs a bag of Fritos and turns to Dax. “When does the next shipment drop?”
“Next week.”
“Can you ask them if they’re going to bring more eggs? It’s been two shipments without some.”
My eyes slide to the shelf, where only one carton sits. Now I understand why Dax is so strict about rationing. Harlow isn’t pushing to take the last of them, but she sounds genuinely concerned.
“Yeah. I reminded them, but you know how they are.”
Harlow scoffs. “Yeah, I do.” Then she walks out of the store without saying goodbye and taking the basket with her.
“She’ll bring it back later,” Dax says, gaze following her retreating back.
“Is she always so defensive?” I whisper, hoping she’s far enough away to miss the question.
He puts his finger to his lips and tips his head toward the door. I sigh and nod, following him out. Only when we get back to the guard tower and Harlow is completely out of sight does he answer.
“She used to work for the guard.”
“Oh wow.” Did not see that coming.
“Yeah, so when she catches herself getting a little too chatty with us rejects, she slips into her old habits, forgetting that she’s also a reject. I don’t think she realizes how rude she can be; it’s ingrained in her to put distance between herself and us.”
“Old habits die hard, I guess.”
“Hmm.” He sits and I take my seat, gazing around the island from the perch. Wolfsbane is beautiful, and it would have been the type of place I’d want to vacation if I were still free to do so.
I frown for what feels like the millionth time in a week and sigh. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to being stuck, but I have to try.
* * *
A few dayslater I wake up in Creed’s bed alone and naked. There’s no sense in wearing clothes to bed with him. I stretch, spreading myself across his mattress and loving how good I feel. He has not disappointed in bed, and to be honest, I’m a little disappointed he isn’t here now because I woke up horny. Rolling on my side, I tuck my arm under my pillow and listen for any sign of life in the house.
No one is home.
That’s a bit strange, but they do have their own lives to live. I’ve already gotten used to being around at least one of them at all times. Being alone isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but being alone inside their house is new for me.
The ache between my legs isn’t going away, and it doesn’t help that I’m in Creed’s room, breathing in his masculine, woodsy scent and smelling the evidence of what we did last night. The sweet smell lingers, taunting me with what I can’t have.
My core tightens when an after pang—you know, the phantom thrust a day after sex that makes you clench in need for that same person?—hits me. I bury my nose in his pillow and groan. This is unacceptable.
With a frustrated huff, I roll onto my back and decide I’m perfectly capable of taking care of things myself. I may not have any toys, but I have practiced fingers. I glide my palm down my stomach, slipping a finger through my folds. Using the other hand, I pinch my nipple and tug on it, working myself in the best way I know how.
The thing about masturbation? Everything has to be a little bit harder, a little more intense, to get a reaction. Whereas with a man, it’s a little easier. There’s something so erotic about the heat of another body pressing against mine, like I’m taking a bit of that warmth for myself.
I bite my lip, moving my finger faster over my clit, chasing an orgasm. A large thud sounds from downstairs, making me squeal. I forget all about making myself come and roll off the bed, landing in a crouch.
Fuck. I’m naked.
Quickly tugging on my shorts and Creed’s shirt, I hold my breath, waiting to see if I hear another thud. All I hear is the steady rhythm of a heartbeat coming from downstairs. Maybe it’s one of the guys?
A full minute passes without another loud sound. Frowning, I walk out of the room and stop at the top of the stairs.
“Hello?”
No answer.
My pulse pounds, and I stay completely still, wondering if this is how I die. The murderer is still on the loose, and I don’t smell or hear any of the guys. After staying with them for a few days, I know their breathing, their scents, and the way they walk.
You don’t know them that well.
Though my inner voice may be a bitch, she’s right. Perhaps I’m not as in tune with the guys as I thought.
I shake my head at how scared I was for a few seconds, and take the first step down. Feet shuffle across the floor downstairs, light and not at all how I’d expect the guys to move. I freeze, wrapping my fingers around the railing. My enhanced hearing picks up a heartbeat and faint breathing, like the person is trying not to be noticed.
Why would they sneak around their own house?
That doesn’t make sense.
My mind races with the worst-case scenarios, and my chest tightens as anxiety swirls in my stomach.
“Who’s there?” I ask, thudding down a few steps louder than necessary in an attempt to scare them off.
It must work, because the back door bangs open, I run down the stairs and race out of the house. I stumble to a stop on the small back porch, glancing from side to side. Sniffing softly, I wrinkle my nose when I’m greeted with an unusual smell. The intruder, because I’ve surmised none of my guys were here, is a man. His scent is barely discernible over the reek of gasoline. The smell is so strong it’s almost like he doused himself in fuel to cover his tracks.
Stomping feet race through the house. A sigh of relief rushes out of me and my shoulders sag. They’re back.
“Trix!” Dax roars, though his voice is more desperate than angry.
“I’m here!” I call, wrapping my arms around my middle.
Searching the trees once more, I frown at the thought of someone coming into the house with the men gone. Had the person known I was left alone? I turn around in time to see Creed and Dax burst through the door. Dax’s eyes are glowing yellow and a growl rumbles in Creed’s chest.
“Someone was here,” I say, gesturing in the direction I think he went. “He ran into the trees.”
Dax gives me a curt nod before stripping and shifting, taking off into the trees in his wolf form to chase after the intruder.
“Are you okay?” Creed pulls me into a hug, wrapping me in his strong arms.
“Yeah. A little shaken up.” I breathe him in, replacing the stench of gasoline with his warmth and comfort. “Do you think that was the killer?”
He shakes his head, chin brushing over the top of my head. “I don’t know. Whoever it was will regret coming here.”
I don’t doubt it. Shifters are possessive by nature, so someone breaking in is a direct threat to what they consider their territory. I chew on my lip and glance behind me. Dax is nowhere in sight, but a howl rises up through the trees, frustrated and angry.
“Shit,” Creed mutters. “Let’s go inside to wait for him. He’ll be at it for a while.”
Alphas take challenges very personally, and while the intruder may not have declared a verbal challenge, trespassing is enough to trigger that instinct within Dax.
“Where were you guys?” I don’t like how whiny I sound, but it isn’t like them to leave me alone without saying something.
He guides me through the door and into the kitchen. “A pipe burst and we had to fix it. Dax needed help welding, so I had to go. I left you a note, but I guess you didn’t see it.”
“No. A sound woke me up but I hadn’t gone downstairs yet when I realized someone was in the house.”
I sit at the bar, resting my elbow on the counter and putting my chin in my hands. Creed studies the room, eyes tracing over every inch like he might find some clue as to who broke in.
Wrinkling my nose, I hop up and go open a window. “Whoever he is stinks.”
“He wanted to cover his tracks. I shouldn’t have left you alone. Ronan was on his shift, so I thought it would be safe. He’s not that far away.”
“He probably thought I was making the noise. I wouldn’t have considered someone breaking in either.” I sigh and head to the fridge. There are no eggs, but we have jelly and bread, so I grab the jar of strawberry and pop two pieces of bread in the toaster.
“You want some?”
Creed shakes his head, running his hands through his blond hair and messing it up. He’s rattled, so I try to distract him by asking about the burst pipe. Apparently, the infrastructure here is about ten years old, so while things are relatively new, they’ll begin to slowly wear down. We’re lucky Dax knows what he’s doing, because I doubt many shifters know how to do the work that needs to be done.
Dax storms into the house about the time I finish eating my toast. He prowls to where I sit, putting his arms on either side of me and caging me against the bar. I spin in my seat, leaning back so I can peer up at him. His gaze travels over me before settling on mine.
“Hey, Old Man.”
He growls. “Trix.”
“Did you find him?” I ask.
“No.” A muscle jumps in his stubble covered jaw. The black and gray whiskers are long enough to look soft. I reach up and stroke his beard.
“Are you okay?”
He closes his eyes and leans into my touch, taking a deep breath before nodding. I run my fingers over his beard for a few more seconds then pull away. His hand shoots up to keep my palm against his skin. His grip is firm, but it doesn't hurt. Blue irises pierce through me, and without him needing to say it, I realize he’s most upset about me being in danger.
Placing his other hand on my shoulder, he rests his forehead against mine and breathes. I watch a dozen thoughts flash over his face, all of them deepening the lines of his frown.
“I’ve got a killer left hook,” I whisper, hoping for a grin.
“That doesn’t mean you're safe,” he says. “If he hurt you—”
“He didn’t,” I say. “I’m happy you care, but don’t waste time worrying about what could have been. You’re here now and I know you’ll protect me. That’s all that matters.”
“Now you’re kissing my ass,” he mumbles, but his lips kick up into a proud smile.
“Maybe.” I shrug. “But I’m not wrong. With you guys here, he won’t come back.”
Because the killer wants easy prey.
“You can’t be left alone,” Creed says from the other side of the counter.
I look over my shoulder at him. “But you can?”
He grimaces. “We can double up the guard shifts at night, that way none of us are left alone when we’re most vulnerable?”
“Good idea. I’ll go check on Ronan.” Dax kisses my palm before leaving, and I stare at my hand for a moment.
For some reason I didn’t expect him to be so tender, but I can’t say I’m disappointed. It’s nice for someone to be so worried about me they need to feel my touch to ground themselves. If being a reject means I get to live with the three of them for the rest of my life, I’m in.
If a murderer could NOT ruin things for me, that’d be great.