Page 54 of Marked

“Need help,” Caleb purred, and holy hell, when did he get so close?

“No!” I tried again to make my limbs cooperate. They betrayed me thoroughly. “Maybe. I seem to be… stuck?”

Derek moved too, boxing me in from behind. “Military training,” he rumbled against my ear. “Very good at… handling delicate situations.”

My breath hitched. This was… this was…

Finally, whatever weird paralysis had gripped me released its hold. I practically fell backward, saved only by Derek’s quick reflexes.

“Careful, little mate,” he murmured, and why did that word make my stomach flip?

I scrambled away from all three of them, clutching my sheet like armor. “Right! Clothes! Those should happen! In private! Very private!”

“We could—” Caleb started.

“No,” Marcus cut him off, though his eyes never left me. “Let him dress.” It sounded like the words physically pained him.

They filed out, movements reluctant, gazes heated. The door clicked shut behind them, though I could have sworn I heard a brief scuffle in the hallway.

I collapsed against the nearest wall, heart racing. What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I let go? Why did I still feel phantom heat where Marcus’ hands had been?

“So…” I muttered to myself, surveying the destruction around me. “This is not actually the guest room, is it?”

The empty room didn’t answer, but somewhere down the hall, three distinct laughs echoed. Marcus’ deep rumble, Derek’s rough chuckle, and Caleb’s playful snicker blended together, letting me know they’d heard my question. And no, this was not the guest room—the massive four-poster bed, the expensive furnishings, the personal touches… I was standing in someone’s bedroom. Probably Marcus’, given how the whole space radiated authority and power.

“Great,” I groaned, clutching the silk sheet tighter. “Just great. Not only did I strip naked in someone’s personal bedroom, but I managed to destroy it while running from their pet wolves. Perfect. Totally perfect.”

More laughter drifted through the door, darker and more promising this time, doing things to parts of me that were currently barely covered by silk.

“Right. Clothes. Focus on clothes, Kai,” I muttered to myself, grabbing Maria’s bundle and trying very hard not to think about three sets of heated eyes and what they’d just witnessed. Or about how I’d managed to destroy someone’s bedroom while running naked from their pets. Or about… any of it, really.

Finally, I got dressed in Miguel’s borrowed clothes—dark slim jeans that actually fit and a soft gray t-shirt with an adorable cartoon wolf reading a book—seriously? The clothes made me look even smaller somehow, which I didn’t think was possible. At least they were comfortable, even if the shirt felt like some kind of cosmic joke.

I cracked open the door and nearly jumped out of my skin. Marcus lounged against the opposite wall, all casual power in his perfectly tailored suit.

“Getting lost is a time-honored tradition in Stone Manor,” he said, lips quirking. “Though most guests stick to the actual guest wing.”

“In my defense, your house is basically a labyrinth.” I stepped into the hallway, trying not to feel self-conscious in borrowed clothes. “Do you have a ball of string I can use to find my way back? Or maybe a GPS app specifically for unnecessarily huge houses?”

“The manor has been expanding since 1667.” Marcus fell into step beside me, his long strides somehow matching my shorter ones perfectly. “Though I believe the getting-lost record is still held by a visiting businessman who spent three days trying to find the kitchen.”

“Three days? What, did he just… hibernate in one of the fifty spare bedrooms?”

“Actually, he found shelter in the—” Marcus stopped, something flickering in his eyes. “You’re being sarcastic.”

“No, really? What gave it away? My naturally serious demeanor?” I deadpanned.

That earned me an actual laugh, deep and rich. The sound did weird things to my stomach that I refused to analyze.

Back in the living room, Derek and Caleb looked far too comfortable for men who should be at work. I sank into the obscenely comfortable couch, eyeing the three brothers who seemed way too content to just… watch me exist.

“You know, most people would find this level of intense staring weird, but you guys somehow make it look like a luxury fashion campaign. You really have the whole brooding-but-beautiful thing down to an art form, don’t you?”

A familiar ‘woof’ made me freeze. The golden-brown beast—Scout?—from earlier bounded into the room, tail wagging like a furry metronome of doom.

“Nope!” I practically levitated behind Marcus’ chair. “We are NOT doing the chase scene again!”

The black one—Shadow?—padded in with regal grace, and I swear he was smirking. The gray one—Storm?—took up what looked suspiciously like a tactical position near the doorway.

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