Chapter 128 Caught in the Act

Eira’s brain was running about two seconds behind. She blinked, took her time with it, and finally got out a quiet "No."

Soup was still coming off the table edge and hitting the floor in fat drops.

Another second and it would have gone straight into her lap. Alpha Killian was aware of that.

"Mr. Sterling."

He turned his head toward her and made a low sound in his throat. "Mm."

Their noses touched again. She flinched like she’d caught a static shock.

"You can put me down."

Barely a whisper, and it came with champagne on it.

Champagne had never once done anything to Alpha Killian. Champagne on her breath, six inches from his face, was a completely different product.

He put her down slower than the situation called for.

He drank half a glass of water to get his head straight, and when he turned back around she was standing at the table with a box of tissues, blotting up soup.

Of course she was. Thirty seconds alone and she was cleaning.

He caught her wrist. "Stop."

"It’s a mess. Somebody has to wipe it." Her words were coming out slower now, and she was swaying a little where she stood.

He stepped in and closed his hand around her wrist properly. It was nothing. He could feel every bone in it.

He loosened his grip, because he was going to bruise her.

Eira registered that one hand was out of commission and reached for the tissues with the other one.

Alpha Killian exhaled through his nose, pulled his tie off for the second time that night, and tied both her wrists together. Then he walked her, wobbling, over to the couch and sat her down in it.

He got out his phone.

"Mrs. Jones. Number Nine, Southridge Estates."

He hung up, dropped the phone on the coffee table, and looked down at her.

She was sitting perfectly still, staring at nothing about four feet in front of her, gone somewhere else entirely.

"Eira?"

Nothing.

He reached over.

She lunged and bit him.

"Ow—"

His hand had already had a full day. Split knuckles from the table, and now teeth in the meat of his thumb.

Small teeth. Sharp ones.

The corner of his mouth went up anyway. He tried to pull his hand back.

She held on like it was the best thing she’d eaten all night, working her jaw slowly, absolutely not letting go.

Then she mumbled something into his hand.

"...funnel cake..."

"What?" He leaned in closer. "Say that again."

Which is exactly when Mrs. Jones came through the front door.

She stopped two steps inside and took in the scene. The two of them on the couch. His hand in her mouth. Her wrists tied with his tie.

"Oh—"

Mrs. Jones turned right back around and started apologizing to the wall.

Every book she’d ever read said walking in on your employer at a moment like this got you shouted at.

"Mrs. Jones."

Here we go.

"Clean up the dining room."

"Alpha?" She turned around carefully.

And that was when she got the actual picture. Dr. Crawford’s teeth were still clamped down on Mr. Sterling’s hand.

[Well. That’s not romantic at all.]

Alpha. Are you even trying.

Alpha Killian caught the exact shade of judgment in her face, took a slow breath, and looked at her.

"Mrs. Jones."

"Yes Alpha. Right away Alpha." She hustled toward the dining room, head turned the whole way.

From over there she watched the coldest man in Sterling territory go down on one knee in front of Dr. Crawford and say, low, "That’s enough. Let go."

And not pull his hand back even an inch.

Mrs. Jones got her phone out, took one photo, and sent it to Luna Seraphina.

[Luna. You are not going to believe this. There’s progress.]

She looked up again.

He had two fingers under Dr. Crawford’s chin now, tipping her head back until she let go.

Minimal progress, she added.

Then she put the phone away and got to work.

By the time the dining room was done, he was wiping the back of his hand with a napkin. There was a clean half circle of teeth marks on it.

Dr. Crawford had gone sideways into the couch cushions, out cold.

"All set, Alpha."

Alpha Killian nodded once. "You’re staying here from now on. Meals, groceries, whatever she needs."

"Yes Alpha." Mrs. Jones came to attention like somebody had called her rank.

Alpha Killian’s mother was a warm, gracious, thoroughly civilized woman. He had never understood how she managed to collect a household staff composed entirely of lunatics.

Or why she kept assigning them to him.

He looked at Eira, folded into the couch with his tie still loose around her wrists. Her forehead was creased even asleep.

She didn’t look comfortable anywhere.

"She doesn’t do housework."

"Not while I’m here, Alpha. Not a plate, not a load of laundry."

"If she picks up a dish towel, you’re fired."

Mrs. Jones gave him a thumbs up.

"She can’t sleep down here, though. She’ll wake up sick." She said it with her whole face. "You’ll have to carry her up, Alpha."

"Go do your job."

Alpha Killian carried her up expecting to put her in the primary bedroom.

That room was empty. Bed made, nothing on the nightstand, nothing in the closet. Nobody had been in there since the house was furnished.

She’d been sleeping in the guest room.

Miles had already run the deed. The house was in Dr. Thorne’s name.

Alpha Killian stood there a second with her weight on his arm.

Then he took her into the guest room and laid her down and pulled the blanket up.

"Sebastian."

She said it in her sleep, barely.

Alpha Killian’s jaw set.

She started to say something else, and he put his hand over her mouth.

"If you don’t have anything better than that," he said, low, "don’t talk."

He pulled the blanket up over her head.

Then, about a second later, he pulled it back down so she could breathe.

He turned off the lamp and went out.

The door hadn’t finished closing when she said it again, and this time it came out clear.

"Sebastian. Go to hell."

--

RELAX

That was the name of Lila’s bar. One word, no punctuation, very much her.

She came in to find Dez apologizing to a guy who couldn’t stand up straight.

Dez peeled off and met her halfway.

"What are we dealing with?"

"He walked into one of the servers and put his own drink down his shirt. Now he says she did it on purpose. We apologized twice. He wants the owner."

Lila went over.

The guy squinted at her. "You’re the owner? You’re a kid. Somebody’s messing with me."

"Not messing with you, sir. I’ll cover the shirt, and your tab tonight is on us."

She could tell he’d come in looking for something to be mad about. She also knew her people hadn’t done anything.

The bar sat two blocks off campus and ran on grad students. Cheaper to make it go away than to make it a story.

The guy blinked at her.

"Wait. Really?" He looked around the room. "Then buy the whole bar a round. On me."

"Done."

Lila hadn’t opened RELAX to make money. She’d wanted somewhere to sit that wasn’t a club and wasn’t sketchy, and it turned out a lot of other people wanted the same thing.

The man sat back down, still working on being angry, and couldn’t get there.

Handled.

She headed out to the lot.

[What if Killian actually tries something while she’s like that.]

Girl code beats blood.

She got in the car and pulled onto the street.

Across the road, a Bentley’s headlights came on.

Alpha Sebastian was in the back.

"Follow her."