Page 11 of His Curse
It's their BDSM room.
The kinkiest of shit goes on in that room, and thankfully, it's off limits to all visitors unless you want to get down on that shit with them.
So the fact that the demon and his mate have a fucking motorcycle club zoo, live in a treehouse, and buy nothing but Nicolas Cage home accents is pretty damn hilarious, but I love it—we all do.
And the way Frankie and Zan make me feel, the way they've welcomed me into theircircusand unknowingly eased the crushing pain I live with every day… it’s been nothing short of life changing because I was well on my way to insanity before they showed up.
"Brace yourself, brother.” Zan grins as he grips the knob on his front door. "You are about to be attacked."
I nod with a smirk.
I’m so ready.
I am well aware of what happens every time I come over, and I'd have it no other way. It feeds into my need to be a part of something bigger than just me, catering to the pack mentality that no wolf can ever get away from. Being a member of the Dragovihk Clan in general does that, but stepping into this house while knowing exactly who is waiting for me on the other side? That is something I wouldn’t trade for the world. Even if I keep my mouth shut about it.
Zan pushes into his home then immediately starts rapping the words toThug Luvby Bone Thugs and Tupac as it plays through the bluetooth speakers, stepping right up to his mate, who is head and shoulders deep in the oven, and proceeds to dry hump her ass to the beat.
And while that’s both par for the course as well as entertaining, it’s easily ignored when Samson, Cora's Great Dane, comes galloping over, throws his front paws up on my shoulders, and howls in my face.
"Hey, buddy.” I rub his cheeks and his ears, down his neck and shoulders. "How you doing today?"
Sammy howls again and because he obviously sees me as the Alpha ofhispack, my wolf and I give him a little howl back.
One that turns into laughter immediately.
Freyja, Zan and Frankie's three legged French bulldog, tries to howl too but is so busy humping Samson's back leg she can barely get it out. And when he gets back to his four feet and drags her away, that’s when the rest of mypackgreet me.
Thor, the teacup potbelly pig, squeals until I pick him up, continues to do so while I kick off my boots, then tries to jump from my arms as I make my way to the couch. And when I set him down, I smile so goddamn big my face hurts.
Khaos and Dizzy, Havok and Cora's nine month old twins, start howling at me, too.
They're in a fenced off part of the living room full of toys, the two babes pulled to standing as they grip the gate and howl the best they can.
Dizzy's howl sounds like piano notes, her small voice so sweet and light even when she howls. It’s deceiving because she’s trouble with a capital T but precious, and I appreciate the effort.
Baby K on the other hand already has a deep, raspy voice, and he whisper-grunts everything, which is exactly how his howl sounds. They may not be blood, but that boy is channeling his Uncle Drej is a scary accurate way already.
I love it, though, and those two adorable little terrors warm my useless heart.
"Your pack has been eagerly waiting for your arrival,” Cora says with a smile as she opens her arms for the most aggressive hug. "Khaos started pacing along the gate as soon as they heard your bike then practically launched himself over it when Zan opened the door.”
I press a kiss to her temple then smile at her twins. “So sorry to keep you waiting."
Baby K whisper-grunts something that sounds like a combination of a bark and growl just before Dizzy hip checks him onto his ass.
"Dizzkord Toth Dragovihk!" Cora screeches her made up full name. "You play nice.”
The nine-month-old basically rolls her eyes as she side shuffles over her brother, stands on top of him, and uses him to try to climb out of the play yard.
Hellions. The both of them.
"I never, ever wish to do that again,” Havok grunts as he comes out of the bathroom, Loki the flightless duck in his arms. "This little shit puts more crap in his mouth than the twins do, and getting those things dislodged from his throat is horrific. He doesn't even have fucking hands!"
"Well I appreciate it,” Frankie says with a smile as she rounds the island and stops next to me. "Zan usually gets the foreign objects out of Loki's mouth because I can't stomach sticking my fingers down his throat.” She presses up on her toes, wraps her arms around my neck and kisses my cheek. "I'm glad you came over. I've been worried about you."
I roll my eyes and hug her back. “No need, Frank. I'm fine."
She arches a light red brow as I let go, those hazel eyes bouncing between mine.
