Outlaw (Wolves of Royal Paynes #4) - Kiki Burrelli Page 0,100
crannies. The dance floor gleamed, having been polished to its original luster.
"I present to you Omega Jazz, mate of Knox and father of the cutest bundle of chunky legs…" Isaiah cleared his throat, getting back on track.
Jazz pranced forward, no less in his element than he would be in his personal heaven. Unlike the others who had raced, or stumbled, down the steps, Jazz lowered himself to the dance floor with the confidence of a king. The navy blue tulle swished with each step, and, sure enough, Knox had taken one look at his mate and crushed his beer can.
We needed to get on with this, or Knox would haul Jazz over his shoulder before the festivities began.
He danced directly into Knox's arms, reaching across his alpha to grip the hand of his friend, Hollister.
When it was Sitka's turn, he didn't so much walk down the stairs as he swam, shadow-hopping to the dark mark cast on the ground between his alphas. Both men enveloped him in borderline inappropriate embraces before Sitka pushed them away. "Mind the clothes."
The look the twins gave him were reminiscent of Knox's, and I didn't think Sitka would be wearing his outfit for much longer either.
Alone in the hallway, I waited behind Isaiah, losing the fight to not look for my alpha. When I searched the dancefloor, I spotted the others: the Walkers all dressed up in their formal finest; the babies playing happily with Nana Walker or, as the case was for Rebecca, sleeping. But no Diesel.
"I present to you Omega Quinlan, mate of Diesel, father of one, and resident half-demon."
I twisted my head back to look at Isaiah, who just grinned and shrugged before pointing to the back corner in explanation. Claus stood in the shadows, in full tails and a top hat, holding a silver cane with a devil's head carved on top that he said made him look distinguished.
Any brotherly annoyance I felt for Claus disappeared the moment I spotted Diesel. He stood at the bottom of the steps, peering up, ready and waiting for me to be in his arms.
His eyes dragged over my body, and as I took the next step down, I felt suddenly naked. My alpha always could see through all the glitz as easily as he could the grime to the man I was inside. His omega. Forever.
Meanwhile, he wore his tux like a second skin. Who knew my mountain man cleaned up so well? He'd shaved the edges of his head for the occasion, leaving a blunt mohawk and full beard that was trimmed instead of scraggly. Suddenly, I needed to count the seconds until I could tear his clothes off him.
The rest of my steps felt like a dream, like walking on a cloud, until Diesel pulled me into his warm embrace.
"So what do you say—one song and then we get naked in the passageway?" Diesel murmured against my ear.
I grinned, but pretended to try to push him away. "After all our hard work? No way. We're enjoying every moment."
I joined the others huddled around the hanging drop cloth. The rope to release the sheet hung on the left side. I hadn't asked to do the honors, but the others had demanded it. "I painted this mural because I wanted to show how perspective can change anything. Whether a storm is coming or going, is sometimes only up to your perspective."
I pulled the rope before I could lose my nerve. It was one thing painting something your pack would enjoy now and again and a whole different thing to reveal it with dramatic flourish.
The sheet fell heavily, folding on top of itself as the others gasped and rushed forward.
"Quinlan! This is amazing!" Jazz cheered.
Diesel beamed beside me, for once, not allowing me to hide behind him.
"Thank you." I'd stuck mostly with my original design, though I'd added some supernatural elements to the storm, and I painted the beachgoers running in both directions, making it up to the viewer to decide which way the wind was blowing. There'd been nothing I could do about how the beachgoers ended up looking like all of us, despite the fact I hadn't wanted to paint the pack.
It was futile, they were family and inspiration.
Everyone crowded around, ooing and ahing at different sections.
"It this one me?" Sitka asked, pointing to a man with long black hair running in the waves.
I brought my fingers to my lips, dragging them across the seam in a zipping motion. "I'm not telling."