Conveniently Convicted

by Ivy Asher

  “Maybe,” he agrees with a shrug, and there’s that adorable blush again.

  I walk over to him, my face stretched in a smile so big that it hurts my cheeks. “You totally love me. You’re, like, completely obsessed.”

  “That’s it,” he warns.

  I scream as he lunges for me, but before I can get away, he grabs me by the waist and picks me up to throw me over his shoulder. He slaps my ass hard, and I’m so fucking slap happy, I can’t stop laughing long enough to fight. He strides down a long hallway and into a massive master bedroom. “You need a time out.”

  He tosses me onto the bed, and I nearly bounce right off, but he’s on me in a second, holding me down. His hands come to cup either side of my face, and then he just looks down at me, his turquoise eyes tracking my features like he wants to memorize every inch of me. My gleeful smile slips at the reverent way he’s drinking me in, and the thudding of my heart starts beating in sync with his.

  “I’m sorry, Sinclair,” he says quietly, all previous laughter and joking wiped away. I can see how deeply he means it. I can feel it too.

  “I know,” I reply.

  “Give me a chance to make you happy. To prove that Prison Guard Rook and Alpha Bowen are worthy of you.”

  I don’t take his words lightly. I know what he’s asking me. To stay. To live here, as his mate. To get to know him outside of his prison guard uniform.

  “You better pay off all my lounge’s debts,” I tell him sternly.

  “Consider it done.”

  I breathe out long and slow. “Okay.”

  His eyes light up, as though he didn’t expect me to say that. “Okay?”

  I nod slowly. “Okay, Alpha PG Rook Bowen. I’ll stay with you and do this mate thing. But I want four.”

  His brow furrows. “Four?”

  “Orgasms,” I specify. “Right now. On this bed because it’s really comfortable. And then I want some meatloaf.”

  A widespread grin takes over his face, and I stick my fingers in each dimple because they’re just too hot not to touch. “When you say meatloaf…”

  I dig my fingers into his cheeks harder, letting him feel the bite of my nails. “I mean meatloaf. Not your penis. Your dick doesn’t get to come out to play. You’re still in the doghouse.”

  I drop my fingers and relax back on the bed, splaying my arms up over my head. “Now gimme four orgasms to start making it up to me.”

  “You’re demanding.”

  “Yup. Can you handle it?”

  His hands skim my sides, making goosebumps scatter over my skin as he lets his gentle fingers trail up the insides of my arms. “I want you,” he tells me, his voice deep and rumbling. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to have you and keep you.”

  That dark promise gets my blood pumping, and I feel a flush rise up my chest. “Good,” I say, swallowing thickly. “Better get to work then. Four orgasms and counting.”

  He gives me a devilish smirk. “Nah. I’ll give you five.”

  And he does.

  Really, really well, too.

  16

  Over the next week, Rook gets me acquainted with his lounge. Everyone speaks to me with respect, like I’ve already become his mate in their eyes, and I have to admit, I like it.

  His land and his lounge aren’t what I would’ve imagined. Everyone is...normal. Nice. Not at all the bloodthirsty brutes that everyone says they are. Except for his enforcers. Those cockatrices are pretty fucking scary. They look like they eat a dozen raw eggs for a snack and drink human growth hormone during happy hour. They’re big, burly, loyal as hell, and somehow, they all seem to have the same wicked scowl, like they practice it in front of the mirror together or something.

  Rook has a pretty sweet setup. He owns acres of land, set deep in the forest, for his lounge, and he’s basically...obscenely rich. His “house” is a damn mansion. With fifteen bedrooms and bathrooms, three heated pools, a waterfall jacuzzi, a stable, an entertainment room, a gym, a massive garage, and a damn helicopter pad, his house should be a little intimidating. Luckily for me, it’s like I was meant for the rich mate life, because I easily embrace it.

  Like right now. I’m sprawled out in the sauna, sipping on a strawberry daiquiri that Rook’s live-in cook made for me and listening to “Kiss from a Rose” by Seal through the sound system that I currently have hooked up to my phone. The drink serves as a perfect microphone for when the chorus starts, and I sing it at the top of my lungs—as is required by anyone who listens to the song.

  Clapping fills the sauna as I close out what can only be labeled as an epic performance, and my eyes snap open to find Rook leaning against the doorway and watching me with laughter gleaming in his eyes.

  I sit up from where my head is hanging off the cedar bench, wrapped up in nothing but a towel, so I can bow properly. His eyes dance with mischief. “Hard day?”

  “Sorry, I can’t hear you,” I say.

  Rolling his eyes, he snatches my phone and pauses the No Doubt song that just started playing. “Better?”

  “Hmm, it’s hard to say,” I reply, taking a sip of my delicious frozen drink. “Turn the music back on so I can compare.”

  Laughing, he comes into the steamy sauna and scoops me up, not even caring that his fancy suit is getting all messed up. He pecks a kiss to my forehead. “Sorry to interrupt your...whatever that was,” he says as he carries me away from the pool area.

  “That was showing Seal that he’s still got it...and of course lounging,” I tell him. “And you should know this since you’re a leader of one.”

  Rook chuckles as he takes me up the backstairs that lead to our bedroom and heads through the door. The bedroom has an attached drawing room—whatever the heck that means, because I haven’t seen him draw in here once—and he sets me down on the couch that he insists on calling a chaise. Again, I’ve never seen the furniture chase anything, so I think the name is silly, but you know rich people. They like to be indulged.

  I wait for Rook to get down to business with peeling my towel off and doing very naughty things on his non-chase chaise in the middle of the non-drawing drawing room, but he doesn’t. He just...stands there.

  “Shit,” I say, sitting up and tightening the towel over my chest. “What’s wrong?”

  “How do you know something is wrong?” he hedges.

  “Uh, because you’re not ravishing me right now, obviously. And I’m naked under here.”

  He shakes his head with a smirk, but then he sighs. “We have a situation.”

  My back straightens at the look on his face. “What kind of situation?”

  I can tell he doesn’t want to tell me. I narrow my eyes. “You knew about this situation this morning didn’t you? When you said you had to leave and handle some lounge business.”

  I can see that I’ve caught him. “Yes.”

  I stand up and punch him in the arm. “Ow,” he scowls, rubbing the spot. “Mean little thing.”

  “Don’t keep things from me!” I demand. “Tell me right now.”

  “Fine. It’s your mat.”

  “What about her?”

  “She issued a challenge.”

  “Oh my God, what an idiot!” I tip my head back and laugh. “I knew it! I told you as soon as she found out that I was actually happy here, she’d get pissed off and do something shitty. She has no idea how lucky she is that you paid her debts and that you L worded me and decided not to kill her and take her lounge. But nope. She always has to push it.” I shake my head incredulously. “She’s so dumb. How can she possibly think she can fight and win against you in a challenge?”

  Rook says nothing for a moment and just watches me carefully. I stop my rant to study him, and a cold rock of realization slides into the pit of my stomach. “Fuck,” I breathe. “She didn’t issue the challenge to you, did she?”

  He shakes his head no.

  My eyes widen, and I begin to pace back and forth inside the room. “Fuck!” I curse. This is bad. Really, really bad.

>   “She knows, Rook. She knows I can’t shift,” I say in a panic, pointing to my stupid, useless anklet that I’m still stuck with. “How the hell did she find out?”

  “West,” he growls.

  My brows dip down with confusion. “Um...like, the direction? Or is West supposed to mean something to me?”

  “West is the prison guard. The one that assaulted you.”

  “Ohhhh, Sandbag,” I say as I make the connection. “That dude seriously needs his ass beat,” I observe, making note to track him down and return all the favors he bestowed upon me while I was in prison.

  “Oh, I took care of that before I left,” Rook announces casually. “He was thoroughly fucked up. I was just dragging him into a particularly nasty cell in the basement when I was told that the Warden had booted you out.”

  My eyes widen at his ruthlessness. “Which cell?” I ask, a shiver running up my spine at the thought of the terrifying basement I got lost in.

  “One that’s magicked to make you live through your worst fears.”

  I smile at him, my heart all kinds of warm and fuzzy and my mind forming a plan of all the ways I’m going to reward him for this. “You’re too good to me,” I tell him dreamily.

  “I always will be, too,” he answers without missing a beat, his turquoise eyes softening and radiating love and protection.

  “So what’s her plan?” I ask, bringing our focus back to the issue that’s now breathing down our backs like a good for nothing Drake. “Kill me in a challenge while I can’t even shift to defend myself? She hates me worse than I thought, but this seems a little extreme, even for her. She never puts this much effort into her daughter. Why start now? Why go through all the trouble to trade me to you just to turn around and take me out?”

  “Think, Sinclair,” he tells me. “You accepted the contract. You’re here, living in my lounge. You’re my mate in the eyes of the law, and based on the laws of our people, in issuing a challenge to you, she’s issuing a challenge to a matriarch.”

  My eyes nearly bug out of my head, and I start to pace. Holy shit. “But...But that means…”

  “That if you lose, she becomes the matriarch over this lounge,” Rook finishes for me.

  I stop in my tracks as the dread sticks to the soles of my feet. “She’s gonna win,” I whisper, feeling panic start to grip me. “She’s gonna win, and then I’ll be dead, and your title will be stripped because of me, and then she’ll take over this lounge!”

  Rook grabs me by the arms, holding me in place. “I won’t let that happen.”

  “I can’t fucking shift, Rook!” I exclaim. “I can’t win against her like this.”

  The selfish bitch played a good hand, one she knew she would win.

  He pulls me into him, his arms tightening around me and forcing me to focus on him instead of the alarm bells going off in my head. “Listen to me. I won’t let that happen, okay?”

  “You can’t do anything, Rook,” I point out. “Once a formal challenge has been made, no one is allowed to step in.”

  “I don’t give a shit,” he says. “I’m not going to let her touch you.”

  I raise my hand to let my fingers run over his scratchy cheek. “If you intervene, she can go to the shifter council about it. They could rule in her favor and give her the lounge anyway. You can’t do anything, Rook. I have to face her.”

  His expression turns furious, and his hands drop away from me as he turns and runs his fingers through his electric hair. “You expect me to just do nothing?”

  “You’ve done it before,” I point out. His head whips around, and he pins me with a stony stare. Guilt flips my stomach over. “Sorry. That was a low blow,” I mumble. “I’m just...freaking out. And we both know you can’t do anything to stop this. Not without jeopardizing everything you have.”

  Silence stretches between us, and I know he’s just as worried as I am. His hands are buried in his pockets, and I can easily see the strain around his tightened eyes.

  I need to face this and not freak out, because he’s freaking out, and me being on edge isn’t helping. If I don’t show him that I can face her, then he’ll do something stupid like kill her, and then the council will be on his ass. That’s the last thing I want to happen to him. After watching him and his lounge for the last several days, I’ve seen how good of an alpha he is to his people. I won’t let him throw it all away because I’m in a panic and he wants to protect me.

  I take a steadying breath. I’m gonna fake it till I make it. “Alright. It’s fine. I can handle her.”

  “Sinclair,” he says, exasperated.

  “What? I totally can,” I defend. “You think I can’t?”

  “If you could shift into your beast? Yes. But that’s not the case. I can’t just let you face her challenge and get yourself hurt or killed. You’re my fucking mate!”

  “Yeah, I am.” I stalk over to him and point a finger into his chest. “And guess what? If other lounges find out that I was issued a challenge and you stepped in for me, what do you think will happen?”

  He clenches his fists.

  “Exactly,” I go on. “They’ll think I’m weak. That we’re weak together. If I don’t face her, I’ll get inundated with so many challenges I won’t be able to catch a break until someone takes over this lounge.” I graze my hand down his shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles. “I have to do this, Rook. You and I both know it.”

  Pissed off, he stalks over to a vase that’s probably super expensive and chucks it against the wall. “Fuck!” he shouts as it shatters into a million pieces, his face murderous.

  “You’re cleaning that up,” I tell him pointedly.

  He narrows his eyes at me. “I have staff.”

  “It’s not your poor staff’s fault that you’re having a temper tantrum,” I tell him. “Now, when is she coming?”

  “She’s already here,” he replies, before clenching his jaw.

  Well...fuck.

  Fake it, fake it, fake it.

  I tamp down the anxiety and rush of adrenaline that are fighting for my attention. I need to think. I need to do what my mat can’t. I need to be logical and not let my emotions and pride guide my actions. There’s a way to deal with this, with her…I just need to figure it out.

  The room is silent, and then an idea hits me. “Is she alone?” I ask.

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. I need my phone,” I say matter-of-factly, heading through the doorway toward our bedroom so I can get dressed. The more confident I seem, the less likely he’ll be to totally lose his shit, break all the vases in the damn house, and kill my mat with his bare hands.

  “How long can we make her wait?” I ask as I head into the closet and grab an outfit from the clothes that Rook had it filled with.

  “Twenty-four hours at the most.”

  Despite how hard my anxiety-ridden heart is pumping, I nod. “Okay. Then let’s stall her,” I say, quickly getting dressed before heading to the bedside table where I snatch up the phone.

  “What are you doing?” Rook asks, watching as my hands fly over the screen as I text Dinah. My friend immediately texts back, and a single kernel of hope pops inside of me.

  I smile over at Rook as a plan takes form. “Don’t worry, Glow Worm. I got this.”

  I walk confidently toward the dirt perimeter of the challenge ring. My stomach is already tied into so many knots I don’t know if I’ll be able to eat for a week. If I’m alive, that is. But I can’t show any of that. I need to be cool, calm, and collected—everything I hope I can goad my mat into not being.

  It’s exactly twenty-three hours and forty five minutes since the challenge was first issued. I’m cutting it close, and I just hope everything I’ve put into play works out as planned.

  I look around at the venue for this little showdown. Apparently, this is where Rook’s guards and enforcers train in both their human form and cockatrice form. Enough trees are cleared for the length of two football fields, with nothing but dirt and sparse grass on
the ground. I can see a couple of buildings in the distance that Rook told me are locker rooms where his enforcers can clean up afterward.

  He forced my mat to stay here overnight, which I’m sure she was spitting mad about. My lips curl up at the thought of her having to sleep without the comforts of a bed. I’m sure she slept like shit, which is good for me. I need any advantage I can have, just in case my plan doesn’t work.

  There’s a crowd of some of Rook’s lounge gathered around the perimeter. At least a hundred of them—and not one of them looks happy. In fact, they’re all staring daggers in the same direction.

  My mat is standing at the end of the ring, her green tail feathers flicking with irritation as she watches me approach. Her hair is pulled back in a tight, proper bun, and she’s dressed like she’s about to go to work as a CEO in a skyscraper rather than face her daughter in a duel for power.

  Rook places his hand on the small of my back as we walk toward her. “Can I kill her?” he mutters.

  Despite the circumstances, I feel my mouth twitch in amusement. “Still no.”

  He sighs, like it’s a real inconvenience. “Just say the word.”

  “Sinclair,” my mat says, flicking her eyes over us as we approach. “You’re late.”

  “Not at all,” I retort. “I came fifteen minutes early before the twenty-four hours was up. If I wanted to, I could go fuck off for a bit and leave you waiting here even longer.”

  Her thin lips pull downward. “You see?” she says, motioning toward me with her voice raised so that everyone else can hear her. “This is why you’re a poor matriarch. You have no sense of decorum necessary to run a lounge. Although, I shouldn’t expect anything else from an ex-convict.”

  I snort. “I know what you’re doing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You’re trying to belittle me in front of my new lounge,” I reply steadily. “Trying to form a rift of doubt. But it won’t work. Because unlike you, Alpha Bowen, the male you sold me to, is a damn good patriarch, and his lounge respects him. They might not know me very well yet, but they know him, and they trust that he wouldn’t mate someone who wasn’t worthy.”