I shake my head.
“You are really fascinating, Ryann. A prisoner who wants to stay imprisoned. I’m just dying to find out why.”
I reach for the burrito and smile.
He can wonder all he wants.
I’m not telling them shit. They are just a waypoint.
Soon, I’ll be gone.
Chapter four
Ryann
Kit waits patiently whileI eat, but he doesn’t take his eyes off me. I find it strangely soothing. Callan comes into the dining room and sits beside Kit. His exasperated huff has me smiling at my hands.
“They have gone to their corners for a time out.”
Kit smirks. “Thank you, Daddy.”
I choke on a mouthful of my burrito. Why is that so hot? The alphas, not the burrito, which is also hot and cheesy and good, but now my tummy is full, and the alphas are stealing my attention. They are blinding, like holiday lights. I feel warmer just looking at them.
Callan puts his hand on Kit’s, on the table, and they both lean towards each other. I’m not even sure if they realise they are doing it. It’s the movement of two people so in love and attuned to each other that it’s unconscious.
I expect to feel envy, but the grief that wells up surprises me. They look like how my parents used to look at each other. I brush off that memory and bury it back where it can’t hurt me anymore.
“So, tell us about yourself, Ryann.”
I peer at Callan, wondering what his deal is, but his face is just open curiosity. There’s no judgement there. In my experience, people rarely have any interest in being decent. It’s while I’m looking over them I realise just how well dressed they are. The clothes are nice. Callan is wearing a shirt that fits him like a glove and jeans that have interesting inserts. Kit has on a black t-shirt with an a-symmetrical hem and cream pants, and is he wearing a corset?
I avert my eyes and try to control the lustful thoughts that are spreading like a wildfire. Peeling said clothing off with my teeth would be a better use of my time right now.
“There’s not much to tell. I left home after my parents died, and I make my living as a professional photographer.”
“What kind of photos?” Kit asks, his eyes gleaming.
“All kinds,” I say without really thinking about it. “Sports, wildlife, school photos, weddings, special events, landscapes.”
“Boudoir?”
I pause, and then nod. “I could do that. No one’s asked, though.”
“What about erotic?”
I swallow hard. Images exploding in my brain like fireworks. I would give anything to photograph these two fucking. “No one’s asked, but I can’t see why I couldn’t.”
Kit bites his bottom lip and turns to Callan, who is already shaking his head. “No, this is a bad idea.”
“It’s a great idea.”
“It’s no, Kit, come on, we just met her. I don’t want to fuck in front of her, no offense.”
“None taken,” I say in a breathy voice that is embarrassing as fuck. Kind of massively disappointed, though.
There are a million different porn videos going through my head, except my brain is helpfully transposing Kit and Callan onto all the actors. I wish I’d never touched a porn video. This is torture. I shift in the chair, clench my thighs together, and count slowly down from ten.
“Can you do a fashion shoot?”