Whitney by Celia Kyle

later, a very naked Gabriella was free of her sheet-prison. It wasn’t until her sister tumbled from the bed that she got an eyeful and Whitney whirled with a squeak. She loved her big sis, she just didn’t want to see all of her.
    The shuffle of clothes signaled the woman was getting dressed and then they were ready to go. Nearly silent they crept up the stairs.
    “Why are we sneaking away?” The whisper seemed like a scream.
    Right, nearly silent.
    “’Cause I said so.”
    “That only works when you’re older than me.”
    “Bite me.”
    “That’s Emmett and Levy’s job.”
    “I hate you.”
    “You love me.”
    God, normal. Normal felt so good.
    By then, they’d reached the top of the stairs to find a glaring Scarlet staring at them.
    Whitney smiled wide. “You’re awake.”
    “Under protest. The guys had some stupid meeting thing this morning and wanted a quickie before they left. Apparently baby making is number one on their to-do list.” The eldest Wickham shuffled to the large couch and flopped onto the cushioned surface. “I think my vagina is going on strike.”
    “TMI.”
    “Tough.” Scarlet stuck out her tongue. “Why are you here?”
    “To talk,” Whitney nibbled her lower lip.
    “Come on then. Order me some breakfast and pull up a seat.”
    A nearby guard stepped forward and Whitney didn’t even flinch. Crazy how, after two days, she’d already gotten used to the guards that surrounded her über important sister. She stared at the man, knowing he looked familiar. Well, more familiar than the others.
    “Hello Sexy! You’re still alive!” She grinned.
    Gabby nicked-named—or named depending how someone looked at it—the guard when she’d been going through the drama with her two mates the previous night. The guys had rejected her sister for some dumb reason. While Gabs had been trying to reaffirm her hotness, she hit on the guard. It’d been all fun and games until Gabriella’s mates threatened to rip the man’s head off.
    The wolf blushed and tugged at the collar of his uniform. “Um, Tor, Miss Wickham. And breakfast has already been ordered. It should be arriving,” a low ding from Scarlet’s elevator flitted through the room. “Now.”
    With that, the man disappeared and returned with a massive rolling cart topped with a half-dozen covered plates.
    “Oh, I think I love you, Hello Sexy.” Scarlet’s words were immediately followed by a wince. “Never mind, I hate you with a passion unrivaled.” Ah, her mates had to be speaking with her telepathically. “There? Better now?” When no more grumbles from Scarlet came, Whitney figured things were good.
    In moments, the Wickhams were settled and munching.
    “So…” Scarlet nibbled on the only freaking cheese Danish in the whole pile of food. “I’m not seeing that well-fucked look and you’re moving a little too well for a woman who had two sets of wolfy chompers in her shoulder.”
    “Yeah. We aren’t mating until ‘they’ve done some research.’” Whitney swung the air quotes, banana in one hand, squished muffin in the other. Well, brownie, but a muffin—even squished—qualified as breakfast more so than a brownie.
    “No boinking? At all?” Gabby was horrified. “You three were on fire when we left. Did they even throw you a bone? Like an orgasm or ten as a consolation prize?”
    Whitney shook her head. “Nope. They’re concerned about what would happen. Plus, I think they’re worried about Sarvis even though they said they’re not.”
    Scarlet nodded. “Yeah, he’s evil with a capitol ass and lowercase hat.” She tilted her head to the side. “I’m actually surprised you got here. I mean, he shoulda been lying in wait to pounce and steal you away so he could kill you and solve his little problem.” She shrugged.
    “Are you kidding?” Whitney hadn’t thought of that.
    “Duh. He’s like the evil villain. With all that snarling and yelling about you being handled ‘permanently.’ Plus that