Page 33 of Worth

“What is this place?” I breathe, leaning forward between the front seats.

“The Warehouse,” Aiden answers, grinning at me. I find myself smiling back simply because his easy answers always make me do so.

Zander pulls into a parking space, the sign in front of it marked ‘Designated’, and throws open his door. He waits until I scramble out, eyes narrowed on my face. “Stay close. Don’t wander. Let us do our work. Understand?”

“Sir, yes, sir!” I say, giving him a sloppy salute.

“And keep your smartass mouth shut,” he adds, scowling.

I mime zipping my lips and throwing away the key, earning myself a sigh. Aiden, seeming to be in a perpetual state of chuckling, drapes an arm over my shoulders as we follow Zander in through the automatic sliding glass doors. A pretty brunette is standing in front of a reception desk, her hands clasped in front of her, and feet arranged like she’s a ballerina and not a secretary.

I don’t miss the way her eyes immediately snap to evaluate me, narrowing at the way Aiden’s arm is wrapped around my shoulders. Her gaze snaps to Zander as he strides towards her.

“Mr. Roulette,” she says, her voice low and husky. “Welcome back.” Zander doesn’t even react to her, heading for the bank of elevators in front of us. “Mr. King,” she adds to Aiden with a nod, her tone taking on a coolness that wasn’t present for Zander.

I snort. “Zander Roulette and Aiden King? What are you? Book characters?” I mutter.

Zander ignores me, but Aiden is playful as he bumps my hip with his, fully ignoring the receptionist—which does not please her in the slightest. Just before the elevator doors close, the ballerina bitch, who is still eye fucking the men with me, catches me glaring at her. I have just enough time to covertly flip her off before she’s lost behind the closed doors.

“Don’t antagonize Marleigh,” Zander says with a tone that brokers no arguments.

I make a face at his back, yawning when the doors start to slide open one floor up. The yawn morphs into a stretch; one of the good ones where you feel tingles along your spine. I finally open my eyes, my feet automatically following the sound of both men’s footsteps, and I stumble over the threshold of the elevator. I freeze, my eyes darting back and forth from one side of the room to the other.

It’s a fucking Stable.

Men and women, wearing the standard potato sack-like tunic, stand or sit in stalls typical for a Stable—with a caveat: these stalls aren’t enclosed glass like the people inside them are puppies on display at a pet store. No, these stalls are more of an abstract concept that allows the people in them to chat leisurely with the others around them. Some of them are even laughing as they chat.

What in the fucking hell?

Several Skins—albeit very healthy and decently fed Skins—are beaming ear-to-ear as they rush towards Zander and Aiden. I slide away covertly, my mind a whirl of confusion, as I watch them interact. Aiden treats them like he treats me—kindly and like we might be part farm animal that he wants to take care of. It’s Zander who surprises me, though.

Zander has a warm smile on his own face as he clutches another man’s shoulder, earnestly listening to whatever he has to say. I stare at him, realizing this is the first time that I’veeverseen Zander smile when there wasn’t a wall of ice behind it. That stern, give-no-fucks layer that protects him from the outside world has fallen away with the appearance of that smile, and when he laughs unhampered, I find myself sucking in a hard breath at how joyous the sound is. I didn’t even know Zandercouldbe happy.

“I told you he wasn’t so bad,” Aiden murmurs in my ear, startling me. “He just doesn’t trust easily, and women worst of all.”

“Aiden,” I manage to get out, tearing my eyes away from Zander. “What is this?”

He blinks at the harshness of my tone, looking down at me as I glare up at him. “What’s what?” he replies, confused.

I scan the room, seeing those odd open stalls again, and then face him fully. “Are you and Zander Skin Traders?” I demand, crossing my arms.

Aiden cants his head to the side. “Yeah, Kitten. I thought you understood that.”

“No, I didn’t understand that!” I exclaim, throwing my hands up. “Why? How could you dothat, after having been a Skin yourself?”

I speak louder than I mean to, and the area around us quiets. Aiden looks wounded as he drops his eyes to the ground at his feet, shuffling them awkwardly.

“Miss,” a smooth voice says.

I flinch away as a middle-age Asian man in a Skin tunic reaches for me, melting against Aiden for protection. Despite the hurt written all over him, Aiden immediately wraps himself around me, tucking me away in the fortress of his arms.

The man smiles awkwardly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you...” His voice trails off, the question clear in it, but I don’t answer.

“Her name is Blake,” Aiden speaks up, his voice soft.

“Blake, I’m Harvey,” he says, his voice kind—so kind.

How can Zander and Aiden do this to them?

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