Page 22 of Wicked Deceit
“Nope! Gotta see this, Sunshine.” I grunt when Chase’s deft fingers poke into my aching sides, and I lift my head to glare at him. He smiles, revealing all his teeth that I want to punch for interrupting my sleep.
“Turn around, Sunshine. I can’t wait for you to see this,” Chase whispers, lowering my feet to the floor. His hands stay on my hips when my wobbly legs gain strength and I turn around.
My jaw falls open, and my breaths evade me. Light gray decorates the once white walls, lit up by fairy lights hanging from every corner of the room. A bed fit for a king—or eight kings—sits in the middle of the room. A fluffy dark gray comforter and a million fluffy pillows line the headboard. It’s so large, over the top, and nothing else fits around it. A large closet sits to the right of the bed. It’s open and displays a large built-in dresser and what suspiciously looks like my clothes neatly hanging from plastic hangers. The only other objects sitting in the room are my computers and a new desk tucked into the corner.
“You like it?” Chase asks with a grin. “It’s the biggest fucking bed we could find. I swear you could get five more boyfriends, and we’d still have room for you.”
Carter grunts, “No more boyfriends.” I swear I hear his teeth crack when I sleepily snicker at him.
“Not even three more? There’s definitely room for them,” I say through a playful grin, and he narrows his eyes.
“No fucking more. I’m the last fucking one. I’ll kill any man who tries to enter this fucking harem. You hear me, Little Troll?” He growls the last part, pointing a finger in my direction. I frown at the stupid nickname, bringing a wave of old memories from when I first started at this school.
I bite at him and shake my head. “I’m not a troll, damn it. But, fine. No more boyfriends. I’d hate to put someone else’s life in danger because you’re a psycho.” I fake a huff.
He scoffs at the psycho part, but his chest puffs out. “Damn right,” he murmurs. “Now pay attention to the fucking work we put together in a night.”
“So romantic,” I mumble but shake it away.
Chase snorts. “Look at what we did for you, Sunshine.”
The full effect of what they’ve put together for not only me but us hits me right in the feels when I look at the room again. “It’s beautiful,” I whisper, stepping into the room. Every detail, everything I’ve ever wanted, sits in this room. And the bed is a perk. No longer will we have to squish into my tiny bed or create a pallet on the floor. We will all fit together and have room to space out or cuddle.
“We, uh, well—” Zepp stutters, rubbing the back of his neck, nervously looking at the other boys out of the corner of his eyes.
I raise a brow, turning to look at each of them. Suspicions immediately have my hackles raised, and my arms' hair stands on end. I cock my head when Zepp actually sputters to find the words he wants to say.
“We moved you out of your fucking apartment,” Carter blurts, a deep, possessive growl emanating from the back of his throat. “You can’t live by yourself anymore. We can’t let that fucking happen.”
“You moved me out?” I ask in a deep voice, attempting to put my hands on my hips. But with only one bendable arm, I look lopsided and uncoordinated. Narrowing my eyes, I assess my men standing before me.
They firm their stances, puffing their chests like alpha beasts, crossing their arms, and tightening their jaws, creating a wall of sexy man-meat. They came into this argument thinking there would be a fight with me, and they were ready to take me down. Half of me is pissed–no, not pissed. I’m hurt that they did this without asking and didn’t communicate with me. They moved my things without my permission. Don’t get me wrong. I get their reasoning. Their protective instincts are kicking into high gear. Magnolia is dead. Addison is dead. We got in a car crash, and they injured the three of us. So, I knew it wouldn’t be too long before they hauled my ass into this house and didn’t let me go. Next, they’ll want to insert a tracker under my skin to follow where I go. Annoying? Yes, but it’s necessary for my safety.
“We… we can’t function with you constantly sleeping somewhere else,” Chase pleads, lowering his voice. Keeping his passion-filled eyes planted on me, he firms his stance again, making himself ten-feet tall.
“We need you protected and under this fucking roof. With them, you’ll be safe here,” Carter adds through gritted teeth, clenching and unclenching his fists at his side.
“And you?” I ask, raising a brow.
“He can't move in yet,” Zepp says, rubbing his chin.
“Not fucking yet. Not with all these fucking eyes on me around campus. It was a fucking risk going to the hospital with you so damn much and out for fucking lunch. But I couldn’t fucking say no when you were in pain. But I can stay over,” Carter growls with sweat beading at his furrowed brow. He takes a deep breath through his flaring nostrils, trying to regain his composure. I’m convinced he’s ready to fight me or fuck me. Or both—I’m not sure.
“What they said, Baby Girl,” Zepp says, taking a tentative step towards me, demanding my eyes on him. Authority wafts off him in waves, forcing me to stand at attention and focus only on him. “With how callous they’ve become regarding your life, we need you here to protect you and keep our eyes on you,” Zeppelin demands again, pointing a finger towards the floor for added effect.
“Don’t make me shackle you to the fucking bed,” Seger’s firm voice sends shivers down my spine.
Well, don’t threaten me with a good time.
Staring at the boys with unblinking eyes, I wait for them to continue pleading their case. They are all in. Fighting the good fight. Good vs. Evil, and all that. This is what my life has become and will be for many years, God willing. I’ve shackled myself to four protective, ruthless boys who won’t take no for an answer. This time, at least. And you know what, I’ll let them win this. If they want to shackle me to this massive bed and keep me safe and occupied, who am I to stop them?
“Okay.” I shrug, walking towards the bed and sitting on the edge.
I let the exhaustion I’ve felt since leaving the hospital take over, and one by one, my limbs tingle and beg for rest, falling limp at my side like I am a pliable rag doll made of dough.
A small smile pulls at the corners of my lips, watching the boys stare at one another with furrowed brows. Hands wave, eyebrows wiggle, and tiny mumbled words escape their lips as they succumb to a silent conversation about what to do with me.
They, too, expected a bigger fight than this. I can tell. Their bodies stand tense and rigid, but slowly, they relax with realization. I’m not fighting them on this. I’d rather be here with them any night of the week than in my stuffy apartment, constantly looking over my shoulder. Besides, I haven’t slept in my apartment in a while. I’m always here with them, anyway. So, now it’s official; I live here.
