Page 93 of The Butcher

It’s the only word that comes to mind, and I can’t even say it out loud. I’m thinking it, though. Repeatedly. Because Clay is covered from his throat all the way to the top of his sweatpants, and shoulders down to his fingers, in tattoos. I mean covered. While all of his artwork is beautiful, and something I’m sure I’ll want to really admire later on, it’s the lean muscles that have me wowing.

He’s not as big as Nash or Bram, betas aren’t from what he said, but mine is definitely tall, and very much covered in muscle. Add in his shaggy blond hair that curls around his ears and the nape of his neck, those gorgeous, deep brown eyes that are always full of mischief, and a smile that could easily take over the world, my beta is lovely.

And he really is mine.

Without any hesitation or asking for permission, I raise my hands to Clayton’s throat and the second my fingers trail down that tattoo toward his collarbones, I see him hold his breath.

My eyes dart to his and I pause, wondering if this is okay, or if I should only be looking without touching, but when I go to lift my hands, Clay quickly grabs my wrists and keeps them in place.

“I don’t want you to stop, you just got started. I wasn’t expecting that right away, that’s all.”

“Is it okay? For me to touch you?”

While keeping eye contact, he raises my hands and softly kisses the knuckles on both before setting them back on hischest. “Pretty girl, you can do anything you want with any part of me, and I’ll just ask you for more.”

“We are yours, Indy,” Nash whispers against my neck, my alpha’s nose still firmly pressed just below my ear. His hands slowly move toward my knee then they slide back up to my hips, giving them a squeeze before he wraps his arms around me. “Mind, body, heart, and soul. Yours for the taking.”

Tears spring to my eyes but I blink them away. How anyone could feel that way about me, how they could mean something like that with a level of honesty I’m definitely not used to, has me ready to cry my heart out.

Even the men who tried to breed me, the many alphas over the years who used me until it felt like there was nothing left, I knew they didn’t actually want me. Just like I knew that if I got pregnant, they wouldn’t love me, they’d only take me away from the ranch because I was useful to them.

For a few perfect strangers who were trying to do a good deed, to do the right thing, to change my way of thinking, to change my entire life, it’s both humbling and overwhelming in the best possible way.

I think it’s safe to say I’m very much in love with my mates, even if I couldn’t get the words out now if I tried.

I’ll have to settle for showing them instead.

I really hope I don’t screw this up.

Reaching up with one hand, I slide my fingers into Nash’s auburn hair, tilting my head slightly when I feel his lips ghost along the column of my throat. My other hand starts to wander, flattening over Clay’s right pec, tracing the definition then sliding across his chest to the left. I repeat the action on that side, his fair skin warm yet covered in goosebumps, watching my beta closely while he watches me. His eyes are bouncing between them, a few moments on the way I’m touching him then a few more on the way my fingers are buried in my alpha’s hair.

Hardly anything is happening, very little compared to what could be, but being able to explore, to literally feel them out at my own pace, is truly thrilling.

It’s empowering.

It makes me feel strong. I feel like I’m in control for the first time, and that makes me feel brave.

Tracing his pecs with my fingertips, they lightly touch their way toward Clay’s nipple, my curiosity at an all time high because his are pierced, and when I brush over the little bar, he sucks in a sharp breath and I see him shiver.

“Should I not do that?”

He lifts his gaze, and good god, everything inside me melts.

“Depends,” he grunts.

I do it again with a small grin. “On what?”

“How far you want this to go, pretty girl. Keep it up and I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop either of us.”

My palm slides down Clayton’s stomach, following the ripples of his abs until I hit the top of his sweats. I give the strings a playful tug as I ask, “Either of you?”

“Mhm,” Nash grunts in my ear nuzzling behind it as a strange sound starts coming from him. “Hard to control ourselves.”

The sound grows as he tightens his arms around my waist, his chest almost vibrating against my back, and just as I’m about to ask him what he’s doing, Nash once again reads my mind.

“Not sure, sweetheart, but I fucking like it.”

“I’m toast,” Clay grunts as he starts to back up. “Nashy is fucking purring, you smell like something I need to eat, and these sweats have gotten incredibly tight all of the sudden.”

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