"Be gentle," I tease. "It's my second time."
His fingers are definitely lingering as he ties the silk, maybe tracing the shell of my ear, maybe not. It's hard to tell and that ambiguity is delicious.
"Too tight?" he murmurs.
"Not yet."
His breath hitches and a wicked grin spreads across my face.
The landing is smooth as butter, Archer showing off or just that good. The plane rolls to a stop, and I hear doors opening, feel cool mountain air rush in.
"May I?" A deep voice—Bane—asks.
Before I can respond, massive arms scoop me up like I weigh nothing. I squeak in surprise, automatically wrapping my arms around his neck.
"I can walk!"
"I know." His voice rumbles through his chest, and fuck if being carried like this isn't doing things to my omega instincts I'd rather not examine.
He sets me down gently, and hands—Elias from the medical soap smell—untie my blindfold.
"Holy. Fucking. Shit."
The house—no, mansion—no, fucking CASTLE sprawls across the mountainside like something out of a magazine for people with too much money and excellent taste. It's made of glass and natural wood and stone, designed to look like it grew out of the mountain itself. The setting sun paints everything gold, and this place probably wouldn't cost more if it was literally made out of the stuff.
"Why weren't we in this one before?" I breathe, still staring.
Carlisle chuckles behind me. "It needed some finishing touches. Security systems, panic room, the usual."
"Panic room?" I spin to look at him. "We get a panic room?"
"Everyone gets a panic room in this economy," he says with a perfectly straight face.
"I've always wanted to fuck in a panic room," I muse, savoring the way his face goes blank. Judging from the way the others are laughing, that's rare.
I'm already running toward the entrance before anyone can stop me, through doors that are probably made out of platinum, into an interior that makes me want to weep.
The front room has ceilings that go up forever, a fireplace big enough to roast a whole cow, and windows that frame the mountains like living paintings.
"Dibs on the master!" I yell, already racing up the floating staircase.
"There are five masters," Archer calls after me.
"Then I call dibs on the best one!"
The first room I find has a bed that could sleep eight people and a bathroom with a tub that makes the one at the compound look like a puddle. The second has a private balcony and a closet bigger than most apartments.
The third makes me stop dead.
It's perfect. Not the biggest, not the fanciest, but something about it calls to me. Maybe it's the reading nook built into the bay window. Maybe it's the way the afternoon light turns everything soft and golden. Maybe it's the fact that it connects to another bedroom through a shared bathroom.
I throw myself onto the bed, bouncing with pure joy. The mattress is even better than the one at the compound, if that's possible.
"Felix, I found our rooms!"
He appears in the doorway, taking in my sprawled form with fond exasperation. "Our rooms? Plural?"
"They connect." I point to the bathroom door. "You can have your own space when you want to sulk."
