Page 78 of The Butcher

I’m going to talk to Clay and Nash to make sure they agree, and then I’m going to put myself in his path every chance I get. He can lie to himself all he wants, but he can’t lie to me, and I plan on making damn sure he knows it. We don’t even have to talk. I’ll show him I know he’s full of shit by going to that butcher shop as often as possible, just so I can sit and watch him work, and he can deal with the fact that I’ll probably perfume my pants right off by doing so.

Not my problem.

He did that to himself.

I hope he has the bluest balls for the rest of his life.

Skidding down the last bit of the trail, I lift my arms and try to keep my balance, then stop, take a deep breath, and look around.

I did it.

I made it all the way from Bram’s butcher shop back to their house, and I didn’t have to stop and ask for help, nor did I panic once that entire time. Jutting my chin out because I’m proud of myself, I head toward the back porch.

My mother said there wasn’t any reason to stay mad, not when we couldn’t do anything to change the reason why, and all it would do was eat at us until it’s the only thing we were capable of feeling. I never defied my mom, always listened because I trusted what she said, but I wouldn’t mind being able to tell her that I found my way from point A to point B in an area I’m completely unfamiliar with, solely because I was running on anger and spite.

Two things I’m still very full of when I throw open the back door, march into the doorway of the dining room, and shout, “I’m taking you up on your offer, I’m ready to see you naked!”

Clayton has offered. Multiple times. Him, Nash, him and Nash. He’s said it many times, when I’m ready to see them naked, all I have to do is ask.

Which sounds weird, but it was actually very sweet.

When they brought up my going into heat, my reaction must have been enough for them both to understand it wasn’t something I was comfortable with discussing. Nash was immediately embarrassed and remorseful on Clayton’s behalf, and he tried to pry the information out of me in the nicest way possible.

I’m still not ready for that.

So, when he asked if it was them, or sex and nudity in general, I went with the latter.

It’s true—mostly—though, because it isn’t them, but it’s not sex or nudity either. It’s all the things I can’t say yet, the things I don’t really want to ever talk about now that I’m far away from the ranch, and all of that would inevitably come up if I disclosed the full truth.

I spent the majority of my life naked and dealing with some semblance of sex, but for as many nude men as I’ve seen, I haven’t really seen one. And that’s what I told my alpha and beta.

It’s not like those hazy alpha assholes cared if I looked at them, or touched them, or anything else that probably happens during normal sex. They were in rut, and that’s all they were concerned about, and since I was in heat and chained up, there wasn’t a lot of time for me to see more than a penis, knot, or pair of balls. I even had a few that never even showed me their faces while they tried to breed me, so getting a good look at the male form without any clothes on didn’t happen.

Clayton, oddly enough, hit the nail on the head with that one, and I found it very sweet that he volunteered to let me explore. With both my eyes and hands, as he so thoughtfully put it.

Except, there isn’t anyone here.

I came storming in here, mad as a hornet and ready to see some skin, and there isn’t anyone around.

“Hello?” I step into the hall and face the closet at the end, and try again a little louder because being alone makes me brave. “I said I’m ready to see someone naked, so let’s go!”

At least, I thought I was alone because seconds after my announcement is made at a louder volume, I hear what sounds like a stampede of wild horses coming down the stairs.

“Say what now?” Clay asks as he practically falls down the bottom few steps, Nash barely catching him before he’s face to face with the wood. “You what?”

“I take it things didn’t go very well with Bram,” Nash says as he helps Clay get steady. “Not that I understand the connection…”

Immediately regretting my way of handling how I feel because these two incredibly sweet men don’t deserve to be used in any way, shape, or form, I blow out a breath as my shoulders sag. “It was terrible.”

“What’d he say?” He holds out his hand, twining our fingers as soon as our palms touch, but when he tries leading me to the kitchen, I tug him the other way. “I thought maybe you’d want some tea or a beer, considering how flustered you are.”

I shake my head and nod toward the door. “Can we talk in there?”

“Sure,” he says as he glances at Clay, who is grabbing beer anyway. “That bad, huh?”

Deciding not to answer, I wait for Clayton to join us, then take his free hand, leading them both into the spare room and directly to the closet, where they both stop short of the door.

“Indy?” Nash clears his throat as Clay whistles low and says, “Oh man, this is huge.”

---