The Six: Genesis | A Reverse Harem Novel

Fifty-One

Jason is a devil of a man.

Attractive. Tall. And for the record, he didn't flinch when Chris scowled at him as he lifts me from the ground.

I cling to his muscle, sinking my hands around his jacket and squeezing. Whatever is under his coat must be nice. And his voice... whew... like warm caramel.

He insists on escorting me back to the One Hill Rising cabin sitting near the apex of the mountain. As its name suggests, it rises over the mountain and a deep valley built from solid logs of wood and black trimmed arched windows. It reminds me of my own cabin, a diamond shining in the center of nowhere.

A group of college girls stands near the entrance wearing matching pink coats with black skis. As Jason pulls me around the corner, I catch their faces. Surprise, awe, and lust dawn across each of them before it twists wretchedly, brimming with annoyance and jealousy.

They've spotted me.

I don't care if they like it or not. He and I aren't together, he's being nice... or intentionally asshole-ish toward Chris. Honestly, I can't decide which, and I enjoy the seething anger on his face every time Jason pulls me closer to his side.

Despite my half-hearted protests, he brings me into the main cabin and down a wide-open corridor. Floor-to-ceiling windows expose the rich green of the massive pine trees against the shimmering stark white snow. A couple walk by in heavy sweaters and dark jeans, their Husky in tow. The dog glances over at us as they pass, tongue lolling out of his mouth.

The further we drift inside, the higher the ceilings climb. They scale upward to nearly three stories as we come into the shared dining hall. Solid, round dark wood tables cluttered by red-cushion dark wood chairs explode across the room, reaching nearly to the kitchen on the opposite side.

The vast second-floor lines the west side, hanging over half of the room on wide tree trunk columns still wearing their original bark. It's cordoned off by security personnel. He's young, brown eyes, caramel skin offset by a mop of brunet hair covering his left cheek.

Jason leads me over to him, offering a wane smile as the young man identified as 'Tucker,' by his badge, unlocks the security gate. Curiously, I eye him and the extra security posted as the doors leading outside as well as the main entrance. These security aren't like Tucker.

They carry handguns, and automatic rifles and studiously ignore the guests when questions are directed their way. With gloved hands, they point at the clearly marked staff wandering around. When had these changes come into effect?

When Ryker and I came here in the past, I don't remember seeing this much hoopla. Was there a President, Prime Minister or a Celebrity here? Ryker hadn't sent them for me—he would have told me—so either someone else is here or they have something big about to go down.

"They won't hurt you." Jason's voice comes over my left ear and I jerk, nearly knocking myself over a table. "Hey! Whoa! Are you alright?"

Heat builds in my cheeks. "Yes, sorry."

"I won't let anything happen to you." He promises.

I don't know Jason from a hole in the wall and I take his promise with a grain of salt. Trusting strangers is risky business, but as our eyes meet, a shiver winds up my spine and I believe him. He means what he says.

"Of course, you won't, because you aren't responsible for her safety—we are."

I stiffen, taking a large step out of Jason's arm as Chris' clipped reply cuts through our moment. He's pissed and so is Charlie. It flames through our link like the hot breath of an active volcano.