Hunt Me! I Crave the Chase (Spooky Boys #3)

This was not the first time I’d borrowed his clothes. And it wouldn’t be the last…and I just?—

Oh fuck.

That was when I broke.

And the growling started.

I couldn’t help it.

I was caught in a lie I was not equipped to keep. I was surprised Butters hadn’t figured it out already—but then again, he was Butters—so actually that made sense. He was connecting the dots as we spoke, eyes widening as he no doubt remembered the frantic way I’d stolen his pants right off him weeks ago.

He wasn’t the only one that knew, either. Theo obviously did, because he’d already helped me out once before. He was a secret keeper. Giant. Soft-spoken. Trustworthy. Despite being close to Harry, I knew he wouldn’t say anything.

I probably should’ve anticipated this.

But I was still reeling from comforting Jeffrey and the fact I’d had to leave him alone when he so obviously needed me just so I wouldn’t get us caught. And I had not been prepared to be outright called out and questioned. It was hard enough keeping quiet about Jeffrey in general, when all I wanted to do was tell everyone how pretty-perfect-lovely-sad-sweet-brave he was.

And also see what they knew about Lydia, the woman who had hurt him, so I could hunt her down and snap her head off with my teeth.

If I’d been in my wolf form my hackles would’ve raised—but as it was, all I had was soggy pastry-filled cheeks and subvocals that rumbled loud enough the room quieted immediately. I may have been the youngest but I was the alpha and outranked both of them—not that I liked to use that to my advantage usually.

I just…

I didn’t have room in my head for this right now. Not when my thoughts were spinning back to Jeffrey. To the appointment I’d overheard. To the magic of his singing voice. The way he’d smelled and tasted when I’d had him in the shower. And his mouth…god, his mouth.

I could dedicate hours to thinking about his mouth alone. All slick and pink.

But most of all, I couldn’t help but wonder when I could see him again—not as his dog, but as me. Which was…weird.

Weird to think about.

All my life, I’d preferred my wolfskin to my humanskin. It felt more natural. More right. And yet, when I was with Jeffrey there was this itch beneath my skin to touch, not with my paws or snout, but with my hands. To feel the warmth of his skin beneath my palms, to hold, to kiss, to cover every inch of his body with mine until we were sweaty soft and he was safe-safe-safe.

Both omegas frowned at me, not cowed.

I didn’t know what my scent was telling them, but it couldn’t be good.

My cheeks heated.

Their expressions were comically similar, though Harry and Butters were about as different as could be. Harry was lithe with dark hair and severe features. Butters was thick as a slab of toast with margarine colored hair and leagues of tan muscle. He preferred to be naked when he was two-legged, and I didn’t blame him. There was a reason I was pilfering clothing from him, after all. And it was because I hated them so damn much that I didn’t own any. I hadn’t needed them—at least until now.

Still, it wasn’t fair that both of them were ganging up on me like this. Nosy bastards.

I am not a grumpy person. I am not mean. I am not impatient. Or at least, I wasn’t. Not until now. We were only two months into this and I was already at my wit’s end, caught, because of a secret I didn’t want to keep.

Lying was…exhausting.

For a second, I was tempted to spill everything.

Harry would probably freak out. Stalk Jeffrey himself. Research him. Tell me off for being stupid and blah, blah, blah. There’d be no going back. No quiet slivers of peace anymore. Because Harry would tell everyone, and then my nosy-ass brothers would poke their slimy snouts into our business.

Telling all my brothers would certainly mean drama.

Theo would ply Jeffrey with pastries.

Butters would try to wrestle him—to welcome him into the pack—and probably hurt him, on account of being butter-fingered, like his nickname suggested.

And Jules would force him to join his book club and make him read all sorts of the weird crap he liked—to the point that Jeffrey wouldn’t have time for me at all. And don’t even get me started on Mom and Dad—because if my brothers knew, so would my parents—well…