Page 110 of Break The Ice

My eyes widen. Two and three?

I squirm against my hand, rolling my hips in tiny increments, still glued to the exhibit in front of me. There’s no chance of me moving.

Callan gasps and suddenly jerks, thrusting hard, Kit is merciless, holding, continuing to pump his hand until Callan is leaning bonelessly against the wall.

“Kit, what was that?”

“No talking,” Kit growls.

Even I can see there’s something wrong with him now, and I think Callan needs backup. I stand up silently and pace towards the front door.

Callan’s eyes widen when he sees me, but Kit hasn’t even turned around yet. He’s still leaving hickies on Callan’s chest.

I place a hand on the back of Kit’s neck and growl. I feel a bit stupid doing it, but some instinct tells me he needs it.

“Is there any reason why you’re walking in here turning everyone in the house to sex-crazed maniacs?”

Kit freezes.

I wrap my arms around him and just hold him. He doesn’t need sex. I know he thinks he needs it, but I don’t think he does. Now the sex haze has cleared. I can feel the pain in the air, and judging from the appalled and shocked look on Callan’s face, Kit’s scent is strong right now.

Not for the first time, I wish I had an omegas sense of smell.

I wrap my arms around his chest and press my cheek to his back, feeling the frantic beating of his heart.

“Kit, what happened?”

Kit’s sob surprises all of us. Callan steps into our hug and holds him as tight as I am. I let go and kneel, helping them get out of their pants. It takes two seconds to run into the kitchen and come back with some paper towel.

Callan wipes them both down and dumps it in the bin, while I wrap a blanket over Kit’s shoulders and lean back into him, murmuring nonsense words in his ear while he clings to me.

“Someone tried to run me off the road. I kept trying to get away, but they kept chasing me,” Kit whispers.

I look up and see Wren and Raider regarding us from the dining room. The expressions on their faces darken with rage.

Kit’s knees collapse, and I struggle to hold him until Callan gets a grip and lifts him into his arms. He brings him to the couch and sits with Kit curled up in his lap.

I’ve never seen Kit look so haunted.

It hits me all at once that this is my fault. I did this. What if this bastard had killed him?

Wren grabs my upper arm and drags me into the kitchen. He spins me around and cages me against the kitchen sink.

“You’re not being stupid, are you, Ryann?”

My bottom lip quivers.

“This is not your fault.”

A tear escapes, but Wren captures my cheeks, tilting my head up so I’m forced to look at his face.

“It’s not your fault,” Wren reiterates. “You don’t control other people, you don’t have mystical powers.”

“But-”

“But what? Were you behind the wheel?”

I shake my head.

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