“I’d like to request your presence at my club tonight.”
The carefully phrased invitation immediately put her on alert, any awkwardness dissipated. But was he warning her away or formally inviting her because of her status?
“What time?” Either way it didn’t matter. She was his alpha. If he was in trouble, she’d go.
“Say eleven?”
Raven agreed, ending the call. She replaced the receiver, but let her hand rest there as she sorted out what bothered her exactly.
Rylan’s teasing smile faded, his earlier amusement at her discomfort forgotten. “Do you expect a trap?”
“I have no idea.” With that, she rose. She should be able to manage a few hours sleep before she had to be up. She paused in the doorway. “Thank you.”
Rylan blinked, but otherwise didn’t look up or move away from the desk. “For what?”
“For being here.” His start of surprise told her just how bad of a friend she was that she hadn’t told him sooner. Not waiting for his response, she left the room feeling his speculative gaze following her.
She walked into her room, uncertain what to expect. Her gaze caught on the shattered window and the very obvious lack of balcony doors. She’d have that fixed tomorrow. Jackson wasn’t anywhere, but the sound of the shower spilled out of the bathroom. Taggert lay curled up on the bed.
Naked. Again.
Heat burned her cheeks, but more out of curiosity now than shyness. “Don’t you have any pajamas?”
She went to her desk when she heard the bed creak.
“No.”
She turned and breathed a little easier to see he’d slipped on his jeans then felt petty for making him wear them. They couldn’t be comfortable to sleep in, especially since shifters hated to be confined. “You really don’t have anything else?”
“You don’t need much when you’re a slave.” The answer was simple and heart wrenching.
“You’re not one anymore.” She was pleased to see all signs of the collar had already vanished.
Taggert cocked his head and stared at her. “You’re angry.”
“No. Yes.” Raven sighed and grabbed a pair of shorts and a tank top from the drawers. “No one should be treated as a slave.”
“Where do we go tomorrow?” He looked at the clock. “Today?” Taggert slid back into bed, his eyes tracking her every movement, seemingly fascinated just watching her. It still unnerved her to be the center of attention, but she was coming to understand his need to make sure she didn’t disappear.
“You and Jackson will go shopping.” She had more than enough wealth to share. She never spent any of the money that had been given to her when they’d left the labs, reinvesting or donating it. It was time to put it to some use. “I’m going to ask around and see what I can find on Jason’s girlfriend.”
“No.”
She didn’t know Jackson had entered the room until he spoke. She turned, uncertain what to expect, a bit relieved to see him dressed in a pair of shorts. Okay, if she was truthful with herself, a little disappointed as well, but she quickly shoved that horrifying thought to the back of her mind where it belonged. “You were sent to protect him. I don’t want him to go by himself.”
He crossed his arms. “We can help you.”
“You can help by keeping him safe.” She walked to the bathroom, her clothes tucked close to her chest like they could shield her from him.
She quickly shut the door, and immediately heard the men’s low voices in the other room as they plotted. When she exited a few minutes later, she breathed a sigh of relief to find the room dark.
As soon as her head hit the pillows, she was out. It was the lack of warmth that woke her early that afternoon. Raven opened her eyes. Jackson lay on the couch, looking very relaxed and unlike himself while he slept, but she was alone in bed. Rolling over, she saw Taggert on the floor, his guitar in his hands. Besides his clothes, the instrument was the only other possession he had with him.
“Play something.”
All movements ceased. Then Taggert lifted the instrument, twisting it so she could see the face. The strings were ruined. That they would destroy something so precious to him infuriated her. “You’ll buy new strings today. Or get a whole new guitar for that matter.”
She sat up, pulling the blankets up with her, and touched his shoulder. He slowly leaned against her thigh. When she didn’t move away, he relaxed.
“I’m sorry.” It was so little to offer, she felt awkward. She gingerly lifted her hand and then touched his hair, running her fingers through the shaggy strands, the softness encouraging her to linger. “You’re no longer a slave. If anyone ever treats you like one, speak up.”