Chapter 86

I burst into laughter.

“My what?”

He grinned, slow and wicked. “Kept man not to your taste? House husband. Trophy alpha? Whatever title you want to give him while you’re off being a breadwinner, it’s up to you. ... Love slave?”

“Neil!”

My face burned, but I couldn’t help it. The image hit me with the force of a tidal wave. The image of Dominic in a pressed apron, standing in a gleaming kitchen with a spatula in hand and a smile on his face was too much. By the Goddess, the spatula turned into a feather duster, him looking utterly bewildered by domestic chores. The absurdity of it was too much. My shoulders shook, tears pricked the corners of my eyes, and I had to press a hand to because I was laughing so hard.

I was pretty sure no alpha knew how to cook. That was a luna’s job, after all, or pack staff. Tyler didn’t know how to do anything, and I had never hired staff, but it was hilarious to think about.

Neil watched me, his own smile widening, a genuine warmth in his eyes. The tension that had been coiling in my stomach about all of this, the anxiety and fear, burst a part at the sheer ridiculousness of it.

“Oh, god,” I gasped, wiping a tear from my eye. “Can you imagine? Dominic… doing laundry? Putting suit in the dryer?”

“I was thinking more of scrubbing the floors, but laundry sounds hilarious,” Neil added, his voice laced with amusement. “Maybe you'd just have to let him be a serving boy. Carry your drinks, make your fruit bowls, clean the pool, you know?”

I wheezed between laughs. “Stop!"

“I’m serious though,” he said with a sly smile. “I think he’d look good in an apron. Something with frills. Oh, and with pockets, of course.”

“Stop,” I gasped, wiping tears from my eyes. “I’m never going to be able to look at him the same way if you don’t.”

“You could get him a tiny apron, let him be mostly naked otherwise. Save on uniforms, you know?”

My laughter bubbled up. “Stop! Please, I can’t breathe.”

He shrugged, but he sait nothing more. He stepped closer, the laughter softening into something more tender. Then, before I could react, he stole a kiss, quick and sweet, but dizzying all the same from the way my magic, my soul, sparked in response, rising like a tide through me. I felt it reach for his, brushing across the threads of his power in a quiet, radiant hum.

“N-Neil...”

“Feel free to imagine me in an apron, too if it keeps you laughing,” Neil murmured against my lips. “I’ve missed that sound.”

He took my hand his hand covering mine, his thumb gently stroking my knuckles.

“And for the record, I’m serious.” The teasing had faded from his voice now, replaced with something low and steady. A vow. “I’m going to protect you the way you deserve to be protected. I don’t care if it puts me up against him, or anyone else.” He tucked a stray stand of my hair behind my ear. “You’ve spent too long thinking you’re not allowed to be fought for. You are. And if that scares Dominic or anyone else off? They don’t deserve you.”

My throat tightened.

Neil didn’t wait for me to respond. He leaned down to kiss the top of my head.

“Enjoy it, hm?” He nodded to the dessert. “I’ll see you later.”

He pulled back, his touch lingered a mischievous glint in his eyes, and then, with a final, lingering glance, as he walked away. I watched him go, my whole body still humming with magic and the ghost of his kiss.

I couldn’t stop smiling as I ate, and when I finally climbed into the car, I leaned my head against the seat, watching the world go by and wondering what I was doing. But I didn’t regret it. My whole body was humming. I had never been.... so happy.

Neil. Dominic.

Househusband. I snickered at that, wondering how Dominic would feel about it.

I got back to the penthouse within an hour. I saw Arielle’s bag by the door and grinned. But I wasn’t even inside the apartment for thirty seconds before I seriously considered walking right back out.

I’d been planning to tell Arielle everything about Neil, the conversation, the kiss, buzzing magic that still hadn’t settled in my chest. But that whole train of thought derailed the second I skipped down the hall way and heard her bedroom door open.

I opened my mouth, ready to spill everything about Neil, about Dominic, about if I was actually capable of doing this.

“Ari---” I broke off, going still, hearing a voice behind her.

Not just one voice either. At least two. Arielle came out in nothing but a robe, hair mussed, eyes bright. “Welcome back, princess. Had a nice date?”

I blinked at her. “Well, I—you have--”

The door behind her opened. A man. No, not one man.

Two.

My jaw dropped. Both of them tall, gorgeous, and in various states of dress and complete opposites of each other.

The one on the left had warm bronze skin and braids pulled back from a devastatingly handsome face. His shirt was still unbuttoned, revealing a stretch of defined chest and a few bite marks over blank ink. The other was slipping on what looked like a tactical uniform, complete with a badge on the collar and a shoulder rig. Broad shoulders, incredibly sculpted with this look on his face that made his features seem more mysterious and mischevious than mean. He paused only to give Arielle a kiss that was definitely not meant to be done in public. She laughed, murmuring against his mouth. His hands sliding over her curves. I looked away. Quickly.

“Hi, sunshine, you must be Renee,” the first one said to me with an easy smile as he headed into the kitchen. “You want something to eat?”

I stood there, blinking. “I—what—no, I—uh. I’m good.”

Arielle nudged Mr. Tactical away and he headed back to her bedroom, nodding at me as he hustled back. Then, Arielle turned to me her robe was dangerously close to slipping open. She looked like she’d just wandered off the set of some perfume commercial. She stretched with a yawn, entirely unconcerned by my shock, the events happening, and all of the questions I definitely had about this.

Mr. Tactical came back, pushing her up against the island and nibbling on her neck with a low growl. She chuckled, reaching up to pet his hair. “Don’t be a baby.” She turned kissing. “Come back with all of your limbs in tact.”

“Anything for you, love.” They bumped noses, the sensual moment going incredibly tender before he turned, smacked the other guy’s ass, getting a squawk from him. “Feed her well!”

“Asshole!” The chef yelled after him as he scampered away, winking at me as he passed.

And Arielle chuckled. I look at her as she looked at me like nothing had happened. “You look like you swallowed a paperclip.”

“I—” I sputtered. “You—there were—two of them—”

“Sure are.” She poured herself a cup of coffee, utterly unfazed. “Babe what are you making?”

“French toast.”

“You love me.”

“I do.”

I pointed vaguely in the direction of the door. “Are you dating them? Both?”

“Mm-hm.” She took a sip and arched a brow. “Why do you look so surprised?”

Because I was!

“I—no—I mean—I don’t know,” I stammered. “I just wasn’t expecting—”

“Them to be hot?”

“No.”

“One of them to cook?”

I blinked at the guy who seemed completely absorbed in whatever he was doing. He looked... skilled. Maybe he was a chef.

“The armored one?”

“I’m the favorite,” he said, flashing a grin. “For the record.” She chuckled sliding up beside him, lifting up to kiss his cheek.

“Of course, babe. We are both incredibly ravenous, you’re tasty, and you make tasty things.”

He scowled. “Really? In front of your cousin.”

“I’m hoping she’ll be aspire to at least one bi-leaning threesome in her pursuit of her chose two.”

I almost choked on air.

She winked at me. My brain tried to compute what she’d just said. Bi-leaning...”

I blinked at him then looked back to the door.

“That one is a top-bar none and he fucks like a god,” Arielle said. I sputtered as she poured herself orange juice. “I’d have to say... he’s my Lord Blackfang.”

I blinked, unable to think.

“Though, I’m pretty sure Dominic would have some issue with that, but I’m sure you can convince him. The man needs to live a little.” She snapped her fingers. “Dates. Definitely institute lots of dates.”

I looked back at her. “Arielle... how... how do you do it.”

Mr. French Toast let out a snicker, turning to the stove.

Arielle grinned over the rim of her mug, eyes twinkling with wicked amusement. “Rule one: lots of lube.”