Page 3 of Room 13: Bred By the Bears

Her friend though? I caught her regarding us for the tiniest breath of time. And that single tip of her head made the entire room feel as if it vibrated on a different frequency. Suddenly the airsmelleddifferent. The ambient noise of conversations occurring all around us became muffled into white noise and my line of vision sharpened until all I could see was her.

It had to have been the strength of the drink Armel placed in front of me, because I swear I saw her nose move as if scenting the air, like a fucking bunny in winter getting ready to burst from its thicket across an expanse of snow. Armel felt it too. I saw him shift in his seat in direct reaction to her.

In the span of time between me turning to Obsidian to ask him if he too felt it, and catching Armel in my periphery, I knew she was gone. Could feel the absence of her presence at the door. Before my brain told my feet to stand and pursue, Armel was on his feet and three steps toward the door already.

“Where are you going?” I heard Obsidian ask him as Armel swiveled out of his grip, a barely contained growl coming from his throat.

“I saw something I need.”

So did I.

four

We always gotcagey the first couple days at the club. The thrill of the hunt, I guess. Work dragged us all down, and it had been months since we’d been to New Orleans. Every instinct pulsing through my body wanted to rut, fuck, and control.

My friendship with Ryker and Armel fit seamlessly into our sexual adventures. Though we each had a different button that we loved to have pushed, they aligned in a way that made playing as a threesome practically euphoric.

“Who is she?” I asked, following Ryker out of the lounge.

“Don’t know,” he said, giving a tight smile to everyone we passed on our way out to the patio. “Did you feel it though?”

“Feel what?”

“Hard to describe.” He ran his hand down his chin, tugging on his beard. “Weird energy. Something in the air. A pull.”

Jesus. Not him too. Armel was the primal. He was always talking about his urges, biological signals, and the call of a mate. Such BS.

“It’s all in your head,” I told him, knocking his shoulder. “Maybe we should cut back on how much time you spend with Armel.”

Summer had barely begun, and the long fingers of humid misery had yet to wrap their metaphoric fingers around the necks of those living in the bayou. Sitting on the patio was still enjoyable. It leaned on the cool side once the sun went down, as it had at that moment. Thanks to the quiet peace of the evening, the sound of crickets and toad and all that other nature shit that made being outside tolerable—I heardher. And the rumbling timbre of Armel’s voice as they chatted.

Once my eyes adjusted to the low light, Ryker and I spotted them almost simultaneously. She leaned against a cement balustrade; his arms crossed over his chest as he stood regarding her. Both of them appeared relaxed.

No one would ever accuse the bayou of smellingpretty. Mossy. Absolutely. Briney? Sure. Earthy, murky, muddy—there were a million words to describe the varied scents of New Orleans but one I’d never heard anyone say was synonymous with New Orleans? Orange blossom. Last time I did a Google search for orange blossom, which wasn’t often, but did happen, I found it did not bloom anywhere near the Gulf of Mexico.

“You smell that?” I asked Ryker, just to make sure I wasn’t going crazy.

Rather than answer me, Ryker stalked toward where Armel and the copper haired woman were wrapped in genial conversation. He smiled and nodded to the two of them, though I saw right through his actions.

“Ryker,” He extended his hand in greeting, kissing the woman’s hand, and turning it over to brush his lips against her pulse point.

“Pink and blue tie dye,” he said to me as I approached, thumbing the bracelet tied around her wrist.

“A breeder?” I looked at her and saw the heated question in her eyes. As if she, too, was amazed to have found someone to match her kink.

“And here I was about to call it a night and head home.” She pulled her wrist away from Ryker’s grip and extended toward me.

“Miele,” she told me, a confident smile tilting her lips. “I assume you travel as a pack given you were all inside together and now here you are.”

A pack. The most subtle shiver cascaded from Armel’s shoulders straight down his back. He liked the idea. As an alpha, it appealed to me as well. We’d never quite discussed what our actual dynamic was when we played. I guess one could say we were a pack in some ways.

“I don’t know if anyone has ever referred to us as a pack before.” Ryker twisted his fingers through his beard again, considering what she said.

“Friends. Business partners. Brothers. Sure. I kind of like pack.” Armel wiggled his eyebrows at her, a boyish smile playing on his lips. “It holds a certain appeal.”

“Are you men playing tonight?” She tossed that mane of hair over her shoulder, and all three of us took deep lungful of orange scented air, entranced by it.

“For someone who likes to be topped and bred, you certainly have a tight hold on those reins.”

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