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Chapter11The Contract

Dorian and Gwyn's apartment was exactly what Harper expected, high in a glossy tower, spacious and uncluttered, modern furniture in a minimalistic style, and pristine in a way that spoke of little use, and with an amazing view across the city.

It was, she thought, the more upgraded version of their original joint purchase, the apartment that they had abandoned along with their identities, their first start up business, their pack, their family, and her.

Gwyn immediately went into the kitchen and began to pull ingredient from the fridge, slicing onion, whilst Dorian took a bottle of wine out of the stand and poured three glasses, sliding one across the counter to Harper.

They were, she thought, deliberately keeping a distance between themselves and her, because she was well into the first phase of heat, and her scent was an enticement that had both men hiding their erections behind the kitchen bench.

She raised her eyebrows. "Problem, guys?" She mocked them, glad that she wasn't the only one being driven insane by her body.

"very funny, Harper," Dorian smiled ruefully, however. "The bond is inappropriate on several levels, not the least being that we have been your stepbrothers since you were eight years old, and we were fourteen."

"And yet it exists," Gwyn muttered and when Dorian sent him a glare, he shrugged. "Just stating fact, Dor. Bonds are rare. Maybe we were too hasty to reject it in the first place…"

"Gwyn, we agreed," Dorian said under his breath.

"she's held the bond in place for five years," Gwyn was rebellious.

Harper could sense the start of one of their classic arguments, and, despite her instinct to smooth the waters between them, this time, she slid onto one of the bar stools and sat back with her wine to watch it unfold.

"Yes, she has," Dorian braced his hip against the benchtop and settled in for the argument.

"That means something, Dor," Gwyn put a pan onto the stove and threw the onion in to brown. "As does the existence of the bond in the first place."

"Nature goes wrong all the time, Gwyn," Dorian replied. "Babies are born with their hearts on the outside of their ribs, cats are born with two heads, plagues and pests… Just because something happens, doesn't mean that it is right that it has. This bond… it's not right. For starters – who has ever heard of a bond connecting three people?"

'maybe because of our relationship, it would work. Can you imagine taking a mate, having a bond, apart from me, Dor?" Gwyn began to slice capsicum. The argument, Harper noticed with interest, had the pacing and preparedness of something that had been rehashed many times before. "We've been joined at the hip since we were in nappies. I can't imagine taking a mate and moving away from you. I don't think I could do it."

'me either." Dorian sipped his wine, stalling for time. "she would be ostracized from the pack."

"We have lived pack-less for a while now," Gwyn replied. "We know that it can be done, that it's not the end of the world…"

"Have you enjoyed doing it?" Dorian retorted. "No. Neither of us have. Would you ask that of her?"

Gwyn swallowed hard and did not answer, turning to add the capsicum to the pan. "she's our omega, Dor."

"We never meant it that way," Dorian's voice had dropped to a murmur. "she's our f-king sister."

'stepsister, no blood relation," Gwyn replied. "And we've both been checking her out since she started to fill her swimsuit…" He stopped, flushing, and shooting Harper a sheepish look.

"F-king hell, Gwyn," Dorian's cheeks coloured in hectic points. "I can't believe we're even having this conversation," he tried to bring the conversation back onto track. "It could endanger our aliases."

"We own her," Gwyn replied. "If we're f-king her, no one will care."

Harper arched her eyebrows and drank her wine, trying to decide how she felt about the strange argument and the implication that the decision as to whether or not they slept together was up to them.

"Yeah, and that's the other problem," Dorian said with the air of someone who had won the argument. "You know what we're into. Do you seriously think that she wouldn't run screaming?"

"What are you into?" The question was out before Harper had framed the thought and she winced. "sorry, I shouldn't have interrupted," she added hastily.

They both stared at her with matching expressions of dismay.

"shit," Gwyn said under his breath and added snow-peas to the mixture on the stove which was, Harper thought, beginning to smell really good despite the fact that she suspected he was cooking in order to disguise the scent of her heat. "she's going to find out anyway," he added over his shoulder to Dorian. "It's part of the contract."

"What is part of the contract?" Harper wondered as Gwyn shoved a container of pre-cooked rice into the microwave.

"The Werewolf Administration conducts spot checks," Dorian explained, turning slightly so that he equally faced her and Gwyn. "Officially to ensure the wellbeing of the humans in the arrangement, but more so to ensure that the guidelines are upheld."

"What are the guidelines?"

"Collars must be maintained and in sight at all times," Gwyn said as he served. "Werewolves must continue to live within the mandates for werewolves, with small exceptions…"

"Like the elevator and front entrance," she noted.

'mhm," he slid a plate to Dorian and carried both his and hers to the table.

"They basically want to ensure that the spirit of the debt transfer is upheld," Dorian replied.

"Which is exactly opposite to the spirit in which we purchased it," Gwyn's smile was savage. "But we can put up the appropriate front."

"The appropriate front," Dorian replied with emphasis lifting his wine glass.

After a long moment, Gwyn clinked his glass against Dorian's in agreement to something left unspoken.

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