Chasing Scarlett: A Breeder Romance

4. Limo

I stare at the fancy limousine and the door opened for me like an invitation into a dark hell. I don’t get the chance to pick as Riordan shoves me into the car and I fall into someone’s lap. Big hands slide around my torso, pulling me against a wonderfully proportioned groin that grinds into my ass.

My mouth dries and anger surges in me. I stab my 4-inches heel into the boots beside my foot. The man growls, hurling me across into the arms of another man. “It doesn’t like to be touched?”

“She,” I snap, struggling out of the hold of my new captor, who seems less excited about holding me and dumps me on the seat beside me, cussing under his breath about how irritatingly fragile human females are.

The door shuts and I straighten in the seat, staring at them. They are in suits, again. Dark eyes, blue eyes, hazel green eyes, brown eyes—how can they be brothers when they look nothing alike?

“Where are you taking me?” I ask, for what feels like the umpteenth time.

Blue eyes lock onto mine. “Your accent, what is it?” His name is Tiarnan. He is a beautiful man with soft blonde locks that do not fit with all that rock hard muscle of his body, hidden underneath that suit.

My cheeks burn. “French.”

He nods, his passionate eyes lighting up with mischief. “I like it.”

“Stop messing around, Tiarnan. She’ll probably stab you in your sleep when she realizes it was you who ran her vehicle over,” the one beside me says. Cillian. He has green eyes that are sly and calculating. His strong jaw is set into a grim smile, and it takes only a moment for his words to register.

My fists clench by my side, but I say nothing, keeping my thoughts to myself. I ask instead, “What is this mating ritual?”

The car is silent, and they all turn to me. Lorcan, short black hair with soft brown eyes, cracks a grin. “I believe you humans call it copulation.”

I suddenly feel sick in my stomach. “I’m not having…” I practically vomit the word. “…sex with any of you.”

Cillian snorts, lounging in his seat. “Isn’t that what they always say?”

“You never told me any of this,” I whisper, fear creeping into me slowly.

Riordan c***s a brow. “What did you think, Ms. Montgomery? You get another chance to live without giving something in return? Nothing that stays is ever given for free. None of us are inherently interested in bedding you, but we must, in the long run, seeing as we are now bound for eternity.”

Ire sparks in my blood and an inhuman sound leaves my lips. “I don’t understand s**t you’re talking about. I wake up with marks on my skin, and unscathed from a horrible accident. You left me without an explanation, and you return to tell me I’m bound to you forever? I’m supposed to warm your beds? What am I, your s*x slave?”

“An interesting way to put it,” Tiarnan laughs. “You must admit, what we’re offering is more enticing than what your world will ever give. At least, my kind is faithful to their mates and don’t f**k their best friends and spill their seeds into them.”

My world tilts and my chest constricts painfully. Air. I need air. Images flash in my mind; images I have forced under for months. The words. The smell of s*x. Alexander’s proclamations. The wedding. My sabotaged brakes. The doctor’s apology as he confirmed I’d truly lost my child.

Sweat breaks on my forehead and I reach for my purse, yanking it open as I search for my pills. They’re not in there. I haven’t used them since the accident.

“That was unnecessary,” Cillian tells Tiarnan. “Now, she’s freaking out,” he adds, scooping me up from my seat like I weigh nothing, and he deposits me in Riordan’s arms. “There. I’m sure you’ll know what to do with her.”

I can barely breathe. My head is spinning, my fingers fisting in his shirt as I gasp for air and sob. Riordan’s arms wrap around me, holding me to his chest, even as I trash against him. “Scarlett,” he whispers against my ear softly. “Breathe.” It’s an order. My limbs lock, an odd sensation overwhelming me. My nose is buried in his shirt. He smells like crisp winter. I shudder when his thumb strokes my forehead, brushing a strand of hair back. My body relaxes, air filling my lungs too fast.

His lips brush against the skin of my neck, just as he mutters his next order, “Sleep.”

My eyelids grown heavier, and I drift off into dreamless sleep, but not before I hear Lorcan say to his brothers, “Now, how the hell are we going to keep father from killing us?”