She settles back against me, tracing lazy patterns on my skin with a finger as I hold her close. In that small, quiet pressure I feel a tether that steadies me—something steadier than pride, harder than fear. For the first time in a long while I do not want to run. I do not want to hide. I want to stay.
FORTY
Iwake to an empty space where Lillien should be. The sheet beside me is cool and already creased by the absence of weight. For a long second I simply stare at that empty space, listening to the faint hum of our bond as if it might tell me where she went. It does not soothe me.
I push myself out of bed, body tight from too little sleep and too much want, and hunt the apartment. Bastion’s room is open and empty. The bathroom is quiet. My skin anticipates her like an animal that smells rain.
Cassiel’s door gives with a soft resistance and then I see them. Lillien is asleep in his arms, the sheets pooled around her hips, her head tucked under Cassiel’s cheek. He is out cold, his arm curled over her like a guard. For a second I don’t move. The sight is a cold stone dropped into the pool I thought I’d left still.
Jealousy is a blunt thing. It claws. It heats the blood. This is not rational. She belongs to the tangle we are, to me as much as to them, but I feel it anyway—sharp and unwelcome. I cross the room with measured steps, arms folding across my chest to hide the way my stomach tightens.
Lillien stirs, stretching with a small sound that belongs in sleep. The blanket slips and a slice of pale skin glows in thelamp’s light. She blinks up, the sleep making her smile soft and unguarded. “Morning,” she breathes.
Cassiel shifts and catches, then freezes. His eyes open and find me. The air between us suddenly tastes metallic with meaning. His body locks, the realization bricking across his features. I tilt my head and keep my voice smooth. “Care to explain?”
He sits bolt upright, defense in every line. “Nothing happened,” he says too fast.
“Did I ask if something happened?” I reply and the room narrows to the point of my voice. He swallows and scrapes for steadiness.
Lillien, blissfully unbothered, lifts herself on one elbow and grins. “You’re jealous,” she says with that delicious insolence that settles over me like a cloak.
“I’m annoyed,” I counter.
She smirks. “Jealous.” She leans forward, crawling toward me on hands and knees. Cassiel’s fingers tighten on the sheets as if he is forcing himself to keep his hands to himself. His jaw is clenched. I shoot him a glare as the bond between Lillien and me sings brighter. She draws nearer, heat and want threading through it. She presses up against me and slips her hands up my chest, tilting her head for a kiss. For a breath I consider letting the tension dissolve into a soft, private truce.
Then Bastion’s voice cuts the room behind me. “Well, well. Look at the three of you all cozy in bed.”
Lillien hums close to my mouth. “You should really let it go. I liked sleeping with Cassiel.”
I don’t let it go. I deepen the kiss until the world narrows to mouth and mouth. I want to remind her what claim feels like. Her body presses into mine and her sigh melts at my lips. When I finally break the kiss I glance back. Cassiel still claws at the linen. His breath is not steady. I savor that.
Lillien sits up, unbothered. “Get dressed,” I say, my tone flat and owned.
She tilts her head. “Why?”
I look to Bastion. “He said he started training you.”
“He might have,” she preens, perking up.
“Good,” I say. “We’re all going. The four of us.”
Cassiel’s brow knits. “Where?”
I meet Lillien’s gaze. “To Hell.”
The word lands. I turn and go. She chases after me with a laugh and a question trailing: “What do you mean, Hell? Is that really a good idea?”
I barely answer, watching as she moves straight to my closet. She pulls drawers open, fingers riffling through my things as if she’d lived here for a lifetime. “You know there’s an empty bedroom for you,” I say, a smirk tugging one corner of my mouth.
She tosses me one of those looks that says she does not care. She matches cotton panties with a sports bra and slips them on as if dressing were a private joke with my wardrobe. I stand there, ridiculous and utterly captivated. When did I become so enamored just by the sight of her?
“I chose this room because I knew it was yours,” she says without fuss, stepping toward me as I pull on sweats. She presses her palms to my chest and tilts her face up. “Unless you think I should move my stuff to Bastion’s room. Or maybe Cassiel’s?”
I want to snarl. Instead, I spin her and bend her over the bed without warning. She gasps—delighted and breathless—and the sound is a raw, perfect thing. I yank the thin fabric of her panties down as my palm finds her ass. The slap blooms across her flesh and she arches, fingers clawing the sheets.
“You’re mine, Lustling,” I say low, my voice the iron band of a vow.
She is already slick and hot and tasting like the damage she loves. I could break her in countless ways, but control is the lesson today. I haul her upright and turn her to face me. My hand crimps under her chin and her pupils swallow the light. “Don’t push me,” I warn. “You won’t like what happens.”
