“I wanted to burn this house down.”
“You still might.”
She smiles faintly. “God, you’re insufferable.”
“And yet,” I say, brushing my lips over her temple, “here you are.”
“I think you might be the only person in the world who sees that side of me,” she whispers. I don’t have to ask what side she means because I think she might be right, and Idosee it. The bloodthirsty side. I have my own.
And I know without grand declarations or vows that this is what love looks like after war. Quiet and heavy and rebuilding. Unfolding in the ruins.
EPILOGUE
CAROLINE
Declan’s armsare solid around me, and I stir awake against the floor of the kitchen as I hear the front door open. I’m afraid for a second before I remember that most of the people that were threats to me are now either dead or in love with me.
Declan seems to sense my tension. His hand slides gently down my arm, like a reminder—you’re safe now.His chest is soft and hairy against my cheek, and it takes a lot to move away from the warmth of him to look over my shoulder.
Rian steps inside, silent and tall in the entryway, the dark from the evening casting a dark shadow across his face. He’s haloed under the entry light, like he’s walked into a confessional. Or like I have. His jacket has some blood on it, but he unzips it and tosses it, and he’s like new in a button-up and slacks—looking fresh, like he came from a conference.
There’s something in his expression that I haven’t seen before, and then his eyes fall on us. Nude, in the kitchen, Declan’s soft cock still inside me, stirring our juices.
There’s a flash of jealousy for a moment, and then he pushes it aside and sits with us, like it’s normal, like I’m not the woman he loves and Declan’s not his brother, and we weren’t just having sex, and he doesn’t mind. “I didn’t expect you back so soon,” I say.
“I’ll give you two a moment,” Declan murmurs, and I shift to sit up, but Rian moves his hand out and presses his palm against my lower back.Stay, don’t get up.I settle back into the dip of Declan’s pelvis, and I feel him swell inside me.
He shrugs, making eye contact. “I’ve done it before.” Toss a body, he means. Make a statement out of death, he means. I shiver. Not from fear but from how he watches me. Naked, used, thoroughly ruined in the most intimate way.
And yet…his eyes are soft. Starving. “You two look like you had fun,” he says. No accusation. Just an ache behind his voice.
“We did,” I reply honestly, tilting my head, studying him. “I’m not hiding.” Finally, I move off of Declan, and the space between us becomes evidence—sticky, swollen, damp with every time we came, with the impulsive mess of it. The air smells like sweat and sex. I prod him, needing to know what I’m walking into. “How does that make you feel?”
Rian’s jaw flexes. His eyes flick to his brother, then back to me.
“I’m not mad,” he says. “I’m just…” He leans in, hands cupping my face, lips brushing mine. The kiss is tender. Electric. “I want you too.”
Declan shifts behind me, sitting up slowly. His hand settles on my hip, and the possessive way his fingers press into my skin doesn’t go unnoticed. I feel him tense.
“I’m not threatened,” Rian adds, a little louder now. “I’m not jealous.” But he is. I can taste it. And Declan can too.
“You sure?” Declan asks, his voice low, unreadable.
“Are you?” Rian shoots back, meeting his brother’s eyes.
Tension coils around us like a wire pulled too tight.
“I have nothing to be jealous of,” Declan replies, his hand sliding against my back, making circles on me with his palm.
My heart thuds once, loud and low. The floor feels less steady beneath me, like the house itself is holding its breath. Rian’s still looking at me like I’m the only answer to a question he didn’t know he was asking. Declan’s touch is agonizing juxtaposed against it. “I’m not choosing between you,” I say carefully, eyes flicking to Declan. “I won’t do that. I…I love you both.”
“You don’t have to,” Rian says. “I’m not asking you to. I don’t want you to.”
“Then what do you want?”
He exhales. “Caroline, when I met you, I was supposed to kill you. Not even supposed to—I wasprogrammedto kill you. But you’re so…disarming. You’re everything I never thought I needed. Funny, charming, a strong mother, a strong fighter. You’re moralistic, but you understand the gray areas. I want you. I want us. All of us. Whatever the hell that looks like.”
I search his face for doubt. There isn’t any. “So, what are you saying?”
