Hell on Wheels (Faetal Attraction #1)

My Love Is Your Love

Whatever force in the universe decided I needed five mates when I could barely handle a one-night stand before this month is probably laughing their asses off.

I close my eyes as I lean into the luxurious rainfall shower and let it wash away the remnants of last night. We made a hell of a mess of the room and each other, and the group recollection of everything after Reb blew his load is hazy as fuck. Vague impressions, groans, and marks on our bodies are what’s visibly left of the evening, but there’s also this buzzing energy nipping along my skin that tells more than hot as hell fucking went on.

Even the guys feel it, though in vastly different ways. Angelo has a weird hangover, while Archie and Damon are eye-fucking each other like they’re in heat. Javi seems to run hot, as he lost control of his flames twice and burned my comforter set, while Reb is practically Day-Glo. I’m shedding sparkles like a hyperactive rave kid and they’re running down the shower drain as I try to make sense of it all.

No one ever warned me that mating did this shit.

Of course, the city’s caladrius couldn’t have known I’d have five mates. That has to be part of this insanity, right? Lots of supes have multiple mates, particularly canine and felines shifters, but five fated that I’ve known most of my life? It’s way too coincidental for my comfort. My Guardian senses are tingling, just as they did when I found out the Apalachin invite showed up with everything perfectly set for me to attend with the guys. The pieces are coming together so seamlessly that a higher plan is definitely in play.

Reaching for the shampoo, I squeeze some into my palm and start working it through my thick hair. It takes forever to get products out of it, so I’ve got time to kill spinning this situation around until I get my hands on its throat. We’ve spent way too much time scrambling the past two weeks since Mina’s defection; it’s made us be reactive rather than proactive, and I worry that’s to our detriment. Being forced to find clothes for the meet, race under fire, and attend that damn demon dinner was probably all some sort of distraction. Or if not entirely scripted, whoever is pulling our strings is using the shit being thrown our way to their advantage.

It just feels… manufactured.

Not my guys, of course, though I know the cosmos has its part in that, too, but these events and people coming at us. It’s just more than usual, even for a big city like Bay City, and I’m very curious why Mina and the Sickos, plus a rando sniper at the rally, some vague mafia dicks, and Tracer Finn of all fucking shifters seem to lurk around every corner.

“Fuck,” I whisper as I rinse out the shampoo and work conditioner in next. I don’t give a shit what the hell is going on anymore; I’m getting self-care in because I keep getting dragged in front of arrogant assholes who want to judge me. Even if I don’t give a shit about their opinions, I have to make sure I don’t embarrass the guys or their stupid, judgemental parents. “Not that it will work, but I should give it a shot.”

When I finish with my hair, I scrub the rest of my body in a leisurely manner until the water is running cold. I shiver as I exit the enormous stall, toweling off before I wrap my long hair in a heatless curler wand and dry it with my magic. I may not have solved the mystery of our now frenetic lives, but I feel immensely better as I apply my specially formulated Fae lotions and salves. I was surprised they had my specific brands and scent when I first started staying here, but now that I know how Rebel feels… it makes perfect sense.

He’s always been attentive to the point of stalker-ish, but it came from a place of unfulfilled desire.

My lips curve up as I finish my short routine and wrap the short robe on the back of the door nearby. As soon as I open the door to the bedroom, my jaw drops. It’s spotless, spic-and-span from floor to ceiling, and the overhead fixtures are dimmed to make it easier for my light eyes to adjust. Archie is sprawled on my bed with wet, tousled hair, a deliciously clean scent, and two cups of coffee resting on the nightstand beside him.

“There you are, Wheels. I was worried you were going to drain the fucking bay by the time you were done.”

Rolling my eyes, I stride over to the dresser, pulling out yoga pants and a cropped hoodie. “You know, I have all this,” I gesture at the rolled hair, “to deal with Archer Glaser. You boys simply have to wash, ruffle, and go about your merry way.”

“Being this pretty is not that easy,” he says petulantly. “Trust me, you’re not the only one in this family who spends some time in the damn bathroom. Angelo and Damon are a pain in my tightly compacted ass.”

I turn to face him with a wicked smirk and a knowing look in my eyes. “Well, you certainly enjoyed one of them there.”

He groans, leaning his head back on the pillows and the scent of arousal fills the air. “Fuck, yeah, I did. Man, who the hell knew? I sure as fuck didn’t.”

Snorting, I walk over to the hockey god and sit on the edge of the bed. “Archie, they call it a ‘bi-awakening’ because you simply awaken to the fact that you’re attracted to more than one gender. It’s not always something you know from day one or even day six thousand and ten of their lives. Sometimes, it just… happens.”

His expression is full of relief, and I smile fondly. Archie never judged me or Damon growing up, but being raised in the toxic masculinity-filled world of elite athletes, it had to worry him that he might not be accepted after this realization. “That’s good ‘cause I’d never want people to think that I was just playing around like some college kid experimenting for fun.”

Huh. I think he’s trying to tell me he likes my little D, and he needs to know that’s okay.

“Archie…” I reach out and cup his jaw, giving him a gentle smile. “It’s okay if you’re attracted to Damon—or anyone else in our family—if they’re into it. But it’s also completely understandable if there are more feelings than just bro love or randy lust; love doesn’t exist in a vacuum. I hate labels, but this is why there are more colors and shades in the rainbow than the three most people are familiar with. You might be pan or demi… which is something you can explore at your speed.”

His face flushes, and he nods. “If I’m honest…”

I arch a brow, waiting for him to find the words.

“There might be more… feelings.. and… attractions, but I don’t know yet.”

I definitely knew that, but being smug isn’t helpful at this stage in his queer revelation.

Instead, I nod as my thumb strokes his jawline. “Then you have to talk to Damon, and whomever else it involves before anything that could hurt you or them happens. I’m telling you how I feel—which is, if we’re all together, we’re all together. I would never demand you not follow your heart within our bonds.”

Eyes dancing, he tilts his head, playing off the emotion of the moment with a smug look. “Besides, you enjoy the hell out of watching.”

I wrinkle my nose at him. “Don’t make it weird. I enjoy it because you’re hot, they’re hot, and together, it’s just fucking orgasmically sexy, especially if one of the others is touching me, too.”

My big lion grabs me and tumbles me onto his lap, burying his face in my neck with a rumbling growl. “Rogue Olive Kelly, you’re a hell of a woman. No wonder the five of us could find no one who comes even close.”

Aw, now he’s going to make me mushy.

Pretending to be indignant, I swat his shoulder with a frown. “Don’t be ridiculous. You dimwits were fishing in ponds so shallow they could have been spit pools.”

His laugh vibrates from his chest to mine, and when he lifts his head, I get lost in his baby blues. “You know I love you, right? Like, really fucking love you, and I’m tired of not being able to say it. I know it probably scares the shit out of you ‘cause I’m saying it so soon, but…”

I freeze in his grasp, my eyes wide as I swallow hard. He’s not wrong about my reaction, but I don’t know how to quell my panic without hurting him. That phrase is almost impossible for me because of the trauma in my childhood—at least, to form relationships beyond best friends. I’ve never said it to someone who isn’t Rebel, and that was… not meant in this way. At least, I never thought it was.

“Rogue, stop looking at me like you’re going to poof out of the room. You don’t have to say it back until you’re ready,” Archie says. I flush and he just grins wider. “Look at us being so adult and shit. Who would believe it if we told them?”

A giggle escapes my lips, and my posture relaxes. “It’s pretty weird, huh? The only person less likely to do this shit is Reb.”

“I’m less likely to do what?”

Archie and I turn to look at my half-dressed, mouth watering stepbrother clad only in a towel slung around his hips and my laughter fades. Rebel is cut like a diamond and covered in Fae markings that make my stomach flutter differently than anyone else can. The siren call of his Fae blood to mine is intoxicating, and I lick my lips hungrily. “Uh…”

“She’s calling you emotionally unevolved, you dick, and she’s spot on,” Archie shoots back as his hands slide to my hips. “However, we’re not quite on the level of the twins or birdman, either.”

“Nice to know you’re so self-aware,” Reb smirks. “However, just in case you’re too busy examining your belly buttons to remember… it’s practice day for both of you. Might want to get a move on.”

Leaping off my leonine mate, I curse under my breath. “Son of a bitch. The last thing I need after losing Mina is to fuck up leading the team. The starters are loyal, but the bench sitters might get restless. I don’t have room for a mutiny of the wheeled kind.”

Archie sighs as I flit around the room, gathering my stuff and shoving it into my practice bag. “Luckily for me, Coach would rather slice off his foot with a skate than do anything to piss me off. He’s fucked without my sizzling skills.”

“Mab save me,” Rebel mutters from behind me. “Your ego is so massive it’s surprising you don’t push us all out of the room.”

“Naw, that’s my cock, buddy, but thanks for noticing.”

Before Rebel can spit out a rejoinder, I turn to face them, my hands on my hips. “Shut it. Both of you. The testosterone in here is going to choke me a fucking lot worse than your dicks do, so lay off or get the fuck out so I can focus.”

They both pout, and I throw my hands up in the air.

“Seriously! Archie, go get your shit together for practice. Rebel, put some goddamn clothes on.”

My stepbrother snorts, giving me a knowing look. “You realize you’re not going to that practice alone, right?”

“Well, I’m definitely not going with you , so find someone to come with us when we leave. Whoever it is has ten minutes to get their shit together and meet us at Archie’s car.” I stomp over and swat the lion on my bed. “That means you, too, Mufasa. Get it going.”

Archie rolls to his feet with the grace of his animal, winking at me. “Yes, ma’am. Over and out, Dommy Mommy.”

Oh, gross. I guess I asked for that.