Chapter 290: The Weapon

Nat let out a rough, breathy laugh against her cheek, burying his face back into the crook of her neck, his sharp teeth lightly grazing the warm skin right above her collarbone—just enough to send a sharp shiver down her spine.

"Then stay right here and let me hold you," Nat muttered growly against her skin, his large hand sliding up her back to cup the back of her damp head, resting his chin over her shoulder. "Because if I let you go back to that bed looking like this, I’m not gonna answer for myself."

A deep, sudden flush bloomed across the tips of April’s ears, spreading fast down her neck. She cleared her throat, trying to regain a shred of control despite the intense, suffocating heat radiating off Nat’s body.

"I... there’s something else," April murmured, her voice tight as she tried to shift the subject away from her bodily frustration. "Alexander mentioned a weapon yesterday when I was asking about what was in your pocket. It hasn’t left my mind... and I have a feeling I might actually know what it is."

Nat’s ears pricked up, a lazy, thoroughly amused grin spreading across his face in the dark. He loved every second of her trying to cover her embarrassment with strategic distraction.

"Oh, yeah?" Nat rumbled, his golden eyes gleaming with pure entertainment. "Tell me more, sweetheart."

Before she could react, Nat hooked his muscular arm beneath her thighs, smoothly scooping her off her feet in one fluid motion.

He lifted her up so she sat comfortably across his heavy forearm, her legs neatly pressed together and draped over his side, while her arms instinctively wrapped around his neck to keep her balance as he carried her smoothly toward the bed.

"I’m listening," Nat whispered into her neck, his broad hand resting warm against her back as he walked.

April adjusted her grip around his neck, her brain plowing straight ahead with its analysis despite the absurdly intimate way he was carrying her.

"Well," April continued seriously, her eyes looking right into his. "If it wasn’t your wallet, your gun, or your phone... then what else could possibly be bulging in your pants? Logically, the male anatomy, right? A penis. But... I’m not entirely sure, because when I felt it, it was far too hard, like a soft bone. And far too large, now that I think about it. So... I still don’t actually know what this ’weapon’ is supposed to be."

Nat froze for a fraction of a second—and then a loud, booming bark of laughter burst right out of his chest.

"HAH!"

"Shh!" April gasped in sheer panic, her hands immediately flying up to slap over his mouth to muffle the sound.

Her heart hammered against her ribs as she glanced wildly toward the lounge sofa where Xavier and Alexander were sleeping, and then over to Samuel’s armchair.

Nat’s chest was heaving violently under her as he laughed behind her small hands, his eyes watering with absolute hilarity. Her completely serious, clinical breakdown of his erection was the most absurd, ridiculous thing he had ever heard in his life.

He wrapped his arms tighter around her, his muffled laughter vibrating right through her palms, completely helpless against her utterly unhinged innocence.

His eyes gleamed with dark, wicked amusement behind her small, soft hands. His broad chest gradually settled as he reined in his booming laughter, though the heavy vibration of a lingering chuckle still hummed against her palms.

Slowly, gently, he reached up with his free hand and grasped her wrists, pulling her hands just far enough away from his mouth to speak.

He leaned in close, his lips hovering mere millimeters from her shell-pink ear. The sleepy, lazy amusement in his voice vanished, replaced by a low, dangerous growl that sent a sudden, sharp thrill straight down her spine.

"Then, sweetheart..." Nat whispered raspy, his warm breath fanning over her flushed skin as his heavy gaze locked onto her dark, analytical eyes. "Would you like to take a look at this ’weapon’ for yourself?"

April swallowed hard, a sudden spark of intense, unfiltered curiosity lighting up her dark eyes.

Nat hadn’t put her down. He was still holding her effortlessly on his broad forearm, his other arm hooked around her waist while her own arms remained wrapped around his neck.

Instead of setting her down onto the bed, Nat suddenly pivoted on his heel, turning his massive frame completely away from the sleeping men and striding straight out of the open bedroom door into the dark, quiet hallway.

April’s eyes widened slightly as the cool air of the corridor hit her skin. She tightened her grip on his shoulders.

"Where are we going?" April whispered.

Nat let out a low, dangerous rumble from deep in his chest, his dark eyes flashing with a wicked intensity as he carried her down the dimly lit hallway.

"Somewhere else," Nat growled into her ear, his large hand tightening against her back as his long strides carried them away from the master suite. "Cause we’re gonna make a lot of noise, sweetheart... and I don’t want to be interrupted."

The bedroom door clicked shut with a soft, final thud, sealing the room in silence once more.

In the dim stillness, Samuel’s eyes slowly opened.

There was no confusion in his gaze, no lingering fog of sleep. He had been awake the entire time, listening to every whisper, every muffled laugh, and every quiet shift of weight across the carpet.

Slowly sitting up in the plush armchair, Samuel turned his head toward the empty bed where the duvet lay tossed aside, and then toward the quiet, closed door.

His face remained an unreadable mask in the shadows, but deep within his dark eyes, a quiet, suffocating ache flickered. He didn’t like Nat. It had been that way ever since he kidnapped April. He detested the brute’s unrefined roughness, his crass mouth, and the careless way he handled delicate things.

Yet, as Samuel reached out to pick up his glasses from the nightstand and smoothly slipped them back onto his face, he offered the empty room a soft, bitter smile.

If Miss April desired it... if she was happy, satisfied, and willingly walking into those flames... then it was not his place to interfere. His duty was to serve her, protect her, and ensure her comfort, even if it meant quietly guarding her empty room while she sought her desires elsewhere.

Samuel leaned back into the chair; his dark eyes fixed on the door as he silently waited for her return.