Chapter 182
Ciel
Walking into the room in the morning, my knees weaken because of the sheer amount of alpha pheromones in here. It's almost suffocating—thick and heady, wrapping around me like a second skin.
I walk further in. Jack is on a phone call, a towel riding low on his hips. His hair is still damp. His shoulders are broad. His back is sculpted.
He's so stupidly attractive.
He smiles at me, and I almost swoon.
But my target is my best friend.
Is he alive?
I walk toward the bed.
The bedding has been changed—fresh sheets, fresh pillows. Someone has been busy. Nolan is passed out, naked, with a sheet draped low on his hips.
Seems we just have Greek bodies around here, I think to myself, looking at his muscular chest. The way his muscles shift even in sleep. The way his skin catches the morning light.
I count.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Bite marks. On his shoulder. Three on his neck. And one on his nipple.
