Chapter Fourty nine

Vanessa

Blood.

Sweat.

Sex.

I’m swimming in a sea of peppermint, ash, copper, and pine. I never want to surface.

Swimming. Drowning. Swimming again.

But there’s something not quite right. The bed is too lumpy. It’s… imperfect.

And I really dislike that sensation. I stir from my cloud of dizzy desire and hit the lump on the bed. It’s soft and plushy and in the wrong place.

Growling, I move it to the corner. But then I find another misshapen clump and have to move it, too.

Which unearths a third one.

And then a fourth. By the the tenth, I’m a snarling mess, ripping apart the bed and everything on it.

Clearly, I need to make the bed again.

Once I’m satisfied with the mattress and the lack of bumps, I start over. Carefully.

I pick up sheets and shirts and jeans and towels and everything I can find, crafting the perfect bed to rest within. My males are here.

I feel them watching me.

One of them even hands items to me, trying to help. I purr when I like the offering and snarl when I dislike