Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
His internal chortles are cut short courtesy of Harlan Raed, the ex-military rhino shifter and lead officer of the secret security area, escorting my siblings as well as their Fated Mates into the room.
Disbelief leads to me immediately questioning, “You all arrived at the exact same time?”
“Yeah,” Z answers from beside his pregnant mate, hand resting lovingly on the small of her back. “We were all having brunch together when you called.”
“I don’t remember there being a scheduled midday meal on the calendar for us.”
“There wasn’t,” he casually answers. “It was a last minute text thing.”
I keep my expression unchanged in spite of my resentment.
It’s not that I don’t love that my little brothers are happy.
Or that they’re getting along versus trying to literally burn off the other one’s wings.
It’s just that I don’t enjoy being excluded.
My lack of having a mate shouldn’t automatically equate to not being invited to a family gathering—impromptu or not.
Lately, however, it’s definitely beginning to feel like that’s the case.
That unless we are in our shared estate that my presence isn’t warranted.
Wanted.
Fuck, it’s feelings like this that make me regret completely giving up the bar scene.
They’d be much easier to ignore behind two pints of Odin’s Eye.
“Why do you have a Silence of The Lambs dungeon underneath company headquarters?” Ana questions upon their arrival at our side.
“It’s not a dungeon,” I promptly as well as politely insist.
“Mmm,” she hums out, hands sliding onto her metallic gold hot shorts covered hips. “If it looks like a dungeon and feels like a dungeon and is clearly holding someone hostage like a dungeon,” her head tips towards the trapped enemy, “then my underappreciated Deadly Women worthy investigation skills dictate that it is indeed a dungeon.”
“It is not a dungeon.” My expression hardens at the same time I explain, “This…area…is simply a state-of-the-art, multipurpose protection facility, intended to contain or secure intruders—particularly of the non-Sleeper variety—while also providing a space for advanced or enhanced interrogation procedures.”
Cameron leans slightly forward in front of my frame to bluntly state, “It’s a dungeon.”
Ana grins wide, yet I merely shake my head in annoyance over the expression and the internal laughter from my ancient side.
Go ahead. Keep laughing. See if I let you stretch your wings for fun or sunbathe down by the lake again anytime soon.
Survive.
Before I can make any sort of retort, Cameron casually continues, “And I would like to point out that this dungeon is not allowed on the property. It violates several commercial building codes—assuming that you don’t have a permit—and at least six company policies listed in the main section of non-directly visible structures.”
“OhDearGreatOnes, there’s fucking two of them,” A.D. mutters in amusement from his Fated Mate’s side.
Unable to resist the urge to rile her up, I relocate my gaze to the short woman on my right, “It’s actually seven.”
“I said at least six therefore my statement remains correct,” she sasses back with a challenging smirk.
An unexpected hungry groan rattles in my chest in tandem with my stare beginning to narrow.
Fuck, I wanna spank that smile right off her gorgeous face.
Yes.
Just over and over again until she’s begging for my cock.
Yes.
Begging to be fucked.
Yes.
Begging to be fucking broken by me.
Us.
“And who you are?” Z cautiously inquires from the opposite end of the row.
“Cameron Pennington,” she announces, chin tipping up in pride. “Head of HR for the entire DL & Co. company.”
Both of my brothers wince at the announcement.
Yeah.
Neither care for corporate overhead—hence their strong distaste for me at the office.
Let’s not even get into how many memos they magically “never” receive.
“I’m Zilveren Draak,” he professionally introduces, momentarily leaving his pregnant mate to offer Cameron an open palm. “Lead-”
“Horologist,” she inserts at the same time their hands connect. “You design the yearly collections as well as the limited editions that the company tends to make no more than five or seven of in a year. The limited editions are the ones that you, the youngest Draak, then create yourself by hand.”
Impressive she knows this company.
My brothers.
Their roles.
It’s irksome, however, that she’s touching one of them rather than me.
Probably shouldn’t rip his hand out of hers no matter how much Platinum and I would both like that.
“Which means you must be Auran Draak,” her grip moves to shake his. “Middle Draak who is head of marketing and advertising.”
Fuck.
And now she’s touching the other one.
Maybe they don’t need both their arms?
They’ll probably grow back, right?
Right.
“That I am.” A.D. cuts the professional action short after giving me a concerned expression on a quiet. “Stop. Growling.”
“Why are you growling?” Cameron quirks an eyebrow
“I’m not growling,” I defensively bite. “I’m…grumbling.”
Same.
Shut the fuck up.
Polite.
Please shut the fuck up, Platinum. Better?
Quite.
“Again, with the semantics, Mr. Draak,” Cameron annoyingly grunts, taking her position back to my right where I want her.
Where I can protect her.
Where only I can touch her like Fate decided.