40. Sawyer

40

They made me an offer.

A serious offer.

But when they see the numbers, when they hear what I owe my parents… won't they run for the hills? In this, my parents were right: choosing a rich pack would mean I'd never have to worry about finances.

I wouldn't be happy, though. People matter more than career dreams, don't they?

Losing the Book Café would be like losing a limb.

Stop panicking.

Roman's hand is strong and warm around my cold fingers. His scent is comforting and exciting as he hauls me closer to him. The two alphas flank us, gazes intense.

"All right?" Archer asks, and it soothes me that he checks.

"Yeah. Are you gonna give me a tour of your apartment, or what?"

"Something like that. A glimpse into our life together. Have a coffee, relax in our living room."

I nod. "And then?"

"Then we have to go to work," Archer says. "The bar opens in about two hours, and Brinlee is supposed to report in for her first day of work. Come with us."

"To the bar?"

"Where else? We have to talk to her."

I chew on the inside of my cheek. "I don't know if she wants to talk to me."

"Then you have to talk to her," Kyrian says. "Unless you don't want to be in a pack with her."

"Fuck, I do. I do want that."

Besides, I need to apologize and explain this whole mess. Fingers crossed she'll forgive me and that she wants to be with me, too.

It's surreal, standing inside the pack's apartment. The whole last few days feel surreal. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the guys to say they didn't really mean it, not seriously.

Then Archer sits down on the sofa and pats the cushion beside him, a smile on his face but a glint of worry in his eyes. "Come sit. Time for that talk."

Money talk.

Who enters negotiations with a pack with a debt he has to pay back immediately?

Swallowing hard, I sit as bidden and inhale Archer's spicy scent. His presence beside me is massive, and despite my worry, my body responds. In the car, I was too strung out to get hard, but now it looks like my body just can't resist anymore.

"Is your heat coming on?" I can hear Coco's voice in my mind.

Hell.

"Talk to me," he says, so I take a deep breath and tell them everything. They wince a little at the amount I owe my parents, then Archer asks for details about the contract I signed with them. Then he asks me the name of the law firm and the particular lawyer.

"I'll deal with this," he tells me, his brow furrowed. "I'll call tomorrow and talk to the lawyer. We'll find a way out of this without curtailing your freedom of pack choice."

I nod, my eyes hot. "Thank you. Until then, you?—"

"We want you with us, Sawyer." Archer leans closer, and I'm too aware of his body heat, and his magnetic gaze. I'm also aware of Roman sitting on my other side, and Kyrian standing behind the sofa, but when Archer grips my chin, I'm kinda lost.

"You do?" I whisper, not knowing what I'm saying, his hard grip soothing. "Even with this debt hanging over me?"

"No matter what," he says in his deep alpha voice. "Because you're ours, and we'd do everything we can to have you. Anything to make you happy. You know that, right?"

A choked sound leaves me. "What about my cat?"

"You come as a single parent with a kid, huh?"

I snort softly. "Yeah. Potato and I are a package deal."

"Fine. We want you, cat included. Happy?" He kisses me, his mouth firm, his large hand sliding along my jaw, my neck. His tongue demands entry and I allow it, shivering with pleasure at his dominance. In real life, I won't have anyone tell me what to do, but in sex…

Fuck, yeah.

And his taste… so dark and bittersweet, it has me moaning and clutching at him, my body responding to him at a primal level. My dick is hard, my ass is slick, and fire is flowing through my veins.

Fuck…

When he breaks the kiss, I chase after his mouth before I realize it.

"I think…" It pleases me to see he's breathing hard, too. "We should stop before we start undressing."

"Yes, alpha," I breathe, and he groans.

"Fuck, I love the sound of that. I'd love to press you into the sofa and take you right here and now, but…"

"But what?"

He chuckles at my eagerness, runs a hand through his hair. "Guys?"

Roman slides an arm around me, kisses my neck, startling another moan from me. "So responsive… Wanna kiss a beta, Sawyer, see how it's different from kissing an alpha?"

"No," I say, my voice husky, "but I wanna kiss you."

"Sawyer," he breathes, and then he hauls me into his lap, sliding his hands around my hips and to the small of my back. It has the strange effect of having me looking down at him, although he's, in fact, taller than me.

I can look right into his velvet-dark eyes then I'm gazing at his full, sensual mouth, and I'm the one who kisses him. He tastes fresh and yet layered with a dark sweetness like molasses. So good. I want to kiss him all day. So different from kissing Archer—or Brinlee, a voice in the back of my mind whispers and regret follows the words—but I can't stop to think too hard about it now.

Fucking finally. Something in my chest relaxes even as my gut tightens with desire. More heat flows through me, skitters over my skin.

When he pulls back, breaking the kiss, his eyes are like the black expanses of space, with distant stars twinkling in their depths. "Holy fuck," he whispers. "That was…"

"Hot," I breathe. "I want…"

"What do you want, Say? Tell us."

I lift my gaze, and find Kyrian looking at me, fire in his eyes. It takes my breath away, literally, the tall, powerful alpha standing right there. The final member of the pack, the last piece to the puzzle.

I lift a hand and reach for him. "I want Kyrian to join us."

"Yeah, Ky, stop hiding behind the sofa." There's laughter in Archer's voice. "We can see you."

"Very funny," Kyrian grumbles, but I'm coming to realize that's just how he is—a little grumpy, a little moody, but it's not directed at me, rather than at life on the whole.

As he strides around the sofa to sit beside Roman—beside me—he's looking serious but also excited, an openness to his expression and a bright light in his gaze.

He's beautiful. I want to taste his mouth, run my hands through his short blond hair, over his massive shoulders. It's like the more I kiss them, the more I touch them, the more I want.

The more I want them.

"Can I see your tattoos?" I breathe. "What are they?"

"Creatures from my favorite fantasy stories. I'll show them to you, if you're good," Kyrian growls. "So how about that kiss?"

Damn, I'm feeling like a kid at Christmas. "Coming right up," I whisper.

"With whipped cream and a cherry on top," he goes on, and I snicker as I crawl from Roman's lap—almost ending his prospects at fatherhood with a knee to his dick, barely avoided—to reach Kyrian.

"Come here." Kyrian grins, and it's so gorgeous I have to grin back. He's easily the most handsome of the three, though it's unfair to compare them. Archer has that classic dark alpha power, and Roman that beta elegance and fineness about him.

But Kyrian is brute force, and that speaks to me, too. His strong hands grab my ass and press me to him—to his huge hard-on, to be precise, startling a gasp from my throat. "Kissy-kissy."

Another snicker escapes me—who knew Kyrian was so funny?—but it's smothered by his hard mouth.

And… bye, bye brain, it's been nice knowing you.

It's not just him, I have just enough presence of mind to note, although holy hell, the man can kiss. Lips and teeth and tongue and that taste that hits me right in the gut, that power in his hands as he holds me still, so carefully leashed…

But yeah, it's the three of them, one after the other, breaking down whatever rational defense I've put up to keep them away.

Fuck the café.

Fuck everything else.

It's them I want. Brinlee and the McGraw Pack might turn me into a house-husband after all, barefoot and tousled-haired, baking cakes and taking care of Potato. A cat-dad.

Sure, I know this is in big part my dick and ass speaking, this impossible lust taking the wheel, but what can you do when these three men have brought you into their home and proceeded to kiss all rational thought out of your head?

Kyrian puffs out a breath when we come up for air. "Hot damn…"

Totally agree.

"So what's the verdict?" Roman asks with a teasing grin. "Are we a match?"

"Fuck yeah," I say, my voice rough, and he snorts.

"Going well so far, then," Roman says. "Wait until I show you my collection of Funko Pops and, wait for it… My books."

"Damn." I shoot him a smile. "Tempting."

"Time for that apartment tour," Archer decides. "Because if we stay on this sofa, I'll have to kiss you again, and I may not stop."

"Sounds like a plan." I clear my throat. "The apartment tour, I mean."

Because my brain just went, "sex, yeah, sex."

Down, boy.

"If Brinlee were here with us," I whisper, "it would be perfect."

"I know, right?" Roman grins at me. "So we'll do our best to get there, one step at a time."

Getting up and following them around their apartment isn't easy when all I want is to curl up with them and explore their bodies, take off their clothes and run my hands everywhere, then follow the path with my mouth. Just the thought has my cock twitching.

Bonus, though, is that arousal and the effort of following what they are saying has muted the anxiety about what's going to happen with Brinlee and the café and you know, my fate.

Though to be fair, my fate is looking a lot better today than it did yesterday, so there's hope.

Hope. It warms me up, makes me smile—though warming is the last thing I need right now. It's so hot in here. In fact, it's been too hot for days now, getting hotter.

"Is your heat coming on?"

Dammit, not yet. I need a pack to get me through a heat, and we've only just started discussing the possibility of my joining the McGraw Pack. First, they have to deal with my debt, and second my heat?

Nope. Not good.

My skin burns. My body wants.

One thing at a time, buddy. Take it easy, all right?

Like Roman told me. Take it easy. Funny how it's easier said than done. See the irony there? It's really hard.

And now a double-entendre.

How bookish of me.

"And this is the bedroom," Roman says, the word penetrating through the haze in my mind.

"Bedroom?" I echo, peering inside. "And… that's what I call a bed."

Archer chuckles and rubs his chin. "We're three big guys. We need to fit."

"Also," Roman puts in, "you can add another single bed on either side and clip them on, making it almost as wide as the room."

"Perfect," I whisper.

"Oh, yeah." Roman's dark eyes twinkle. "I think it will be, especially with you and Brinlee in it."

I smile back at him, feeling damn happy. "And the other rooms?"

"Oh, boy." Now he laughs. "I did think you had a glazed look on your face when we showed you the study and the playroom. You weren't paying much attention, were you?"

"Playroom?"

"Get your mind out of the gutter," Kyrian mutters, grinning. "It's our mancave, where we play pool and videogames."

"Gotcha."

"Told you he wasn't paying attention," Archer says.

"That's a good sign," Roman argues. "We got him all worked up. Win."

But my attention is still on Kyrian. A message beeps on his phone. And then he does something weird. Instead of reading the message, he plays it out loud.

Wait a minute… Something clicks inside my brain. Maybe it's because I'm kinda out of it, feeling so hot and weird, and… It can't be… can it? Is that why he's been so adamant he hates books? Why he couldn't read what was written under my doorbell?

"Kyrian," I say.

"Call me Ky," he says, and not for the first time, either.

"Ky. You can't read, can you?"

He flinches. Then his face pales and his gray eyes widen. The look he shoots me is… furious. And fragile. "The fuck," he hisses.

"Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me."

His jaw works. Now red tints his cheekbones. "How did you…? Shit."

Not a denial. He's basically just admitted to it. And I don't feel triumphant or anything. I feel… sorry. Especially since he has said he loves stories. And now I feel like an ass for not figuring it out sooner.

"Do they know?" I glance at Archer and Roman who are debating the merits of adding a bigger sofa to the playroom.

He shakes his head. "Nope."

"I won't tell," I say. "Not until you do. But why hide it? It's nothing shameful."

"Says you," he growls, "the bookworm, the educated man. I'm a piece of white trash, raised in foster homes, told over and over how stupid I am."

"You're not stupid," I whisper. "Never thought you were. You're the one who figured me out from the start. You understand me. It's not your fault if the adults in your life growing up didn't give a shit, if they neglected you and didn't bother helping you learn to read."

"I'm slow-witted," he says gruffly. "Couldn't concentrate."

"While being passed around foster homes? Are you kidding me? Who would? Did those foster parents treat you well?"

He scowls. "I didn't need special treatment. I'm not a pussy."

"I bet you're not. But that has nothing to do with it." Though of course it does. Hiding your hurt with bravado is all too common, sadly. I'm often guilty of that, too. "They didn't treat you well, did they?"

"I wasn't their kid. They weren't very invested." He shrugs those powerful shoulders—powerful now, but I can picture him as a skinny little boy, passed around people who didn't give a damn about him, not bothering to look into why he couldn't read and write, labeling him stupid and ignoring him the rest of the time.

"Then they were the idiots," I whisper and dare to take his hand in mine, savoring his startled expression. "Not you."

I vow I'll help him. I'll teach him or find him the right course, and meanwhile… meanwhile, I'll find a way to give him stories, because he likes stories, and it isn't fair that he's been deprived of reading them for so long.

Reading books is the best trip, the best escape in the world, and I'll do my best to get him to escape with us.