Page 76 of Toxic

But I didn’t look away. I kept my eyes on him.

The song was "Can’t Help Falling in Love" by Elvis Presley.

The lyrics were so meaningful that it felt like a confession, one that shouldn’t happen between us—one that I knew Soren didn’t want, but… I still wanted to play it.

When I finished, I saw that his fingers were clenched so tightly, his knuckles went white.

"I can sing it too, but I won’t because I don’t want to make you cringe. Out of all of us, Sun, Snow, and Bay had the best voices anyway. Mine is just mediocre."

And I slowly put the violin down, unsure of what to do next, wondering if I was about to get chewed out, but Soren stayed silent. Finally, he cleared his throat and forced out, "You play pretty well. It’s an unusual combo—music and programming."

It sounded like a very official and carefully chosen compliment. He clearly didn’t want to touch on the lyrics or why I picked that song.

"It’s common in my family. Three of us are programmers. Actually, I guess it’s four, counting my current boss, my cousin Nathaniel, who was raised with us after his parents died in an accident."

"And the rest are musicians?"

"Only Snow and Bay are officially trained in music. Snow teaches piano, guitar, and bass. He also studied composition, but he’s too shy to make a career out of it. He’s a bit of an oddball, still living with our parents even though he’s over thirty. My other brother, Bay, is also a teacher, but he’s more of a local artist. He performs at events and posts his stuff online, making good money from ads. He sings, writes songs, plays piano, guitar, bass, drums, and cello. He posts various interpretations of popular songs on his channel and has a high number of subscribers, which gives him a nice income. As for the rest of us, we all play a bit, but none of us do it professionally. We’re not sure what career the youngest, Sun, will choose. He’s pretty good on the harp, he sings and likes the ukulele, but I’m not sure if that’s what he wants to do for a living. I think he’d rather be a model."

Soren thought for a moment. "And what does the purple alpha do? Storm?"

"My charming brother, Storm, worked as a matchmaker at a matchmaking agency that handles marital contracts auctions and fairs. He studied law and psychology, was set for a career, but preferred working at the agency. He claims he has a gift forpairing people up. But that’s in the past. After his legal troubles, they fired him, and now he supposedly has this weird job. I don’t even bother asking what he exactly does. Some shady company that specializes in consensual assaults… you know, with people’s own pre-planned scenarios. Typical Storm stupidity."

Soren’s face was pensive. "You mentioned Rain a few times. Were you two always close?"

"Yeah, he, Nathaniel, and I stuck together. Though Nate somehow managed to get along with Storm too, the only one in our family who did. He always knew how to deal with him. But even so, Storm never hit him. Probably figured there was no point in kicking someone while they’re down."

"I don’t understand."

"Nathaniel practically lost half his face in the accident. The fire took his sight in one eye, he lost his left ear, and hair there, and even after skin grafts, it’s not pretty—kind of like Frankenstein. He founded a company, MonsterApp, which is where me and Rain work, and he’s totally devoted to it. I doubt he thinks any omega would accept him. Storm saw how much he was suffering and… I guess he just didn’t want to make it worse. He was always strangely protective of Nate."

Soren nodded slowly, rubbing his chin like he was deep in thought. I was kinda surprised he asked so much about my family; he seemed to be brooding over the topic.

"Play some more, Skye," he finally muttered, and I gasped in surprise.

But I picked up my violin and began to play some classical solo pieces for the instrument, this time no longer opting for… unspoken confessions woven secretly into the melodies.

Soren sat, staring out the window, his face contemplative the whole time, almost absent-minded, and perhaps a little sad. Every minute I played, he seemed more and more depressed. I even had the impression he was about to cry!

At one point, he clenched his teeth and grabbed the edge of his T-shirt, pulling it up and throwing it off. I froze, interrupting the play.

He pulled down his pants and underwear and lay down on the bed, his gaze fixed on the ceiling.

"I want to come," he said quietly, his lips tightening. It all looked a bit desperate, as if he wanted to kill some unpleasant thoughts with sex and pleasure.

But seeing him naked made my heart beat faster, and I didn't care anymore about the strange mood. His beautiful, slender body was now splayed before me, waiting for me, offering itself to me. I looked hungrily at his flat belly, the sexy hollow spot between his hip bones, and his smooth crotch. Soren was always perfectly shaved; he must have spent a lot of time on it because, as a brunet, he had black pubic hair, but everything there looked impeccably groomed. I looked at his feet, which were narrow and slender, and his thighs and calves, decorated with a tattoo line of barbed wire, going all the way up to his ankle, where it wrapped around.

It always worked on me, no matter how many times he undressed in front of me, it automatically quickened my pulse.

I got up and walked over to the bed. When I sat down, his body rocked slightly as the mattress flexed. His dick was rapidly gaining volume, almost right before my eyes; it was a fascinating sight. I slowly leaned over him, supporting my hands on the sides of his head. Whenever I did this, he always averted his gaze, but for some reason, this time, for a moment, his eyes were staring at me, my face directly over his.

"Soren—"

"No, don't say anything. I don't want to talk."

Something came to mind. "Can I rub over you?"

He blinked. "What do you mean?"

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