Bonds of Fate (Fated in the Stars #2)

Chapter Thirteen Gideon

Gideon

Gideon’s earliest memory of his father is one of violence.

He’s sure that his child’s mind has blown it out of proportion, but the noise, the blood, and the screams have remained as sharp in his mind as the day he’d heard them. He’d been five or six, and his father had deemed him old enough to bear witness to what happens to traitors in their organization—committed atrocities in his name not long afterward, too.

Gideon’s father never shied away from getting his hands dirty and rather enjoyed doing the work himself when the opportunity arose. He hardly worried about the authorities, as many on both the Human and the Were sides of the police force knew the fear and the promise that was behind the name of Patrick Carnell.

Gideon had thought he and his mother had fought for their freedom—that they had made a narrow escape—but in hindsight, it had been surprisingly easy. He had not been privy to the conversation that transpired between his parents before she stole them away into the depths of the Smokies, but something about it never sat right.

Carnell had never been one to simply let go. Whether his father’s lack of resistance was truly his own choice or the result of unseen hands pulling unseen strings, Gideon could never be sure. the Goddess had assured them he no longer needed to hide when his mother died, yet sometimes, in the quiet of the night, doubt crept in. Had they truly escaped, or had they only been allowed to leave?

Gideon can’t guess why he hadn’t searched for them, given that his father is as possessive as he is cruel. It only makes Gideon more grateful for his mother’s influence—knowing how easy it would have been to fall into the same patterns—driven by a wolf he let control him instead of the other way around.

Patrick Carnell has his fingers in too many pies—none of them legal, and all of them morally abhorrent. Gideon has spent his life trying to forget whose son he is, and mostly, he’s done a damn good job of it, with one exception in the past two years.

He’s made it clear—again and again—that he will never be the heir to a hellscape existence built on his father’s ill-gotten gains.

However, while Gideon loathes his cruel, sadistic father and his way of life, he understands him—understands the willingness to do the unspeakable to protect what’s yours, no matter the cost.

It’s what drives him to leave the compound on foot in the middle of the afternoon—while his sweet-smelling beta and omega lie curled together like the kittens they are, and his ever-honorable pack alpha has locked himself in their home studio, the others working to ease their rutting mate’s suffering.

He hates the very idea of leaving them vulnerable, but this can’t wait.

Once he’s cleared the gate and reset the alarm, Gideon pulls out his phone and dials the number he wishes he’d never have to dial again. “Allistair,” comes the greeting, the speaker long past the usual social niceties. The name from his childhood makes his eye twitch, although he’ll never let his father know about it.

“I’m coming in.” He hangs up without waiting for a response and zips his jacket higher against the cool afternoon breeze.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he warms them—because cold, stiff fingers are useless in a fight. Just one more lesson learned, and hopefully, not one he’ll have to use today.

A single bus carries him across town in the opposite direction of his destination. He doesn’t need anyone following him from his home or knowing where he’s going to end up. Shortly afterward, he hires a taxi, getting out halfway to his destination at a stoplight with a slam of the door, bills passed over the seat.

Lost in the crowd, he takes just under two hours to traverse a journey that would normally take twenty minutes in traffic. Entering a steel and glass building from a rear entrance, he uses the service elevator and the security code to the penthouse floor, which now reflects his birthday—such an oddly sentimental old fool.

Outwardly, Gideon is as calm as he can manage. Inwardly, he hates this. Hates having to tap into that icy rage—the one that kept him alive in those early years.

But here, where his father’s olive scent lingers in the air, it’s too easy to slip back into that old armor.

A guard stands inside the penthouse foyer, not even sparing him a glance. No firearms in sight—as none were needed in such a tight space. Gideon won’t write him off completely, but there’s a cockiness in the man’s posture that tells Gideon he’s poorly trained and new to the position.

His father sits at the table, finishing the last of an English-style tea. Incredibly lean, with a full head of graying hair and the oiliest smile, some might call him handsome. Gideon is just relieved he takes after his mother—and not just for his looks.

His father never looks like anything but the villain he is, especially in this penthouse, surrounded by power and pretense. He is unquestionably the most dangerous person here.

Except, maybe, for Gideon.

“Allistair, sit. Tea.” As he lets a uniformed servant clear the table, he picks up his cup and saucer.

Choosing his battles, Gideon takes the offered seat and the tea, although he’ll not drink it. They’ll play this waiting game for a few minutes. His father knows he’s after something, and he’ll want to see how badly Gideon wants it before offering his own price.

Gideon has never asked for anything before, but this is important. It’s just a matter of not selling his soul to get it. He has come to offer the one thing—besides himself—that his father has shown interest in since it has become worth anything at all.

“Father. You’re looking well.” If a gaunt specter can look anything but skeletal.

“Thank you. You look…stressed. How is your newest mate?”

The effort it takes Gideon not to flinch at the mention of Nix is almost more than he can manage. He uses thoughts of Luca and Nix asleep at home—safe—to keep his scent from blooming into something that will give the devil an edge.

“Well, thank you. I’ve come to ask for a favo–” he’s interrupted when the front door bursts inwards, and the guard behind the door is startled out of his stupor enough to belatedly draw his knife.

Standing in the foyer is Gideon’s very, very angry pack alpha.

Jay has the guard unconscious in under twenty seconds. Carnell, ever the showman, claps like he’s just been treated to quality entertainment.

His father doesn’t look the least bit surprised by the unannounced—but clearly expected—visitor.

“You told him I was coming in?”

“I did. You may recall that Rhodes and I have an understanding.”

That understanding is simple: Patrick Carnell stays as far away from Gideon as possible, and in return, Jay lets him keep his insides inside.

Gideon is 73% sure Jay wouldn’t actually follow through on that threat, but Carnell doesn’t need to know that.

Still, there’s something off. His father’s tone is all wrong—too smooth, too controlled. There’s an edge of patronizing distaste and the way his mouth tightens just slightly.

Lip service.

“Then why let me come all the way down here if you were just going to tattletale?”

“I like to see you, and he can’t be too angry if it’s all your doing.”

Jay’s face says otherwise.

He doesn’t have the official training of the other alphas—the ones standing just outside the kitchen, the one seated at the table, or even the one currently unconscious on the floor.

But Jay is the only enigma in the room, and the sheer force of his pissed-off aura makes Gideon’s insides liquefy because Gideon is one of the very few people on this planet who has this particular tiger by the tail.

And it’s arousing beyond belief.

Jay offers the tiniest of nods to Carnell, the gesture so razor-thin in respect it might as well be a blade. Then he turns his livid gaze on Gideon.

“Gideon.”

His voice is pure gravel, rough and unrelenting. Gideon can’t be sure Jay didn’t run all the way here.

“We’re leaving.”

His alpha won’t reprimand him in front of an enemy—he doesn’t need to. Gideon already understands exactly how deep in shit he is.

He doesn’t spare his father a glance, his wolf growling with disappointment. So close. He isn’t going to get the chance to ask for what he wants—maybe next time.

“Goodbye, son. Rhodes.”

“Carnell.” Jay steps over the unconscious guard like he’s nothing, crossing the foyer and into the service elevator without so much as a backward glance.

Gideon follows behind. He’s not seen Jay this angry in so long. Maybe ever. The fury radiating off his leader makes him want to go to his knees, bare his neck, and beg for forgiveness—and for Jay to fuck him.

He’s in so much trouble, and fuck, does he like it.

So? He’s messed up. Gideon knows this. Jay knows it, too. He has such an iron control over himself that when Jay is like this, Gideon can allow himself to let go—only with him.

“I—”

The alpha’s red gaze whips to his, daring him to provide a single worthy explanation as to why he was about to sell his soul to the devil. “When we are home, Gideon. Straight up to your room.”

“You cannot chastise me like a child.”

Those eyebrows raise again. They exit the elevator, and Jay’s Ducati is parked beside a dumpster, both helmets secured to the back.

“Get on, Gideon. I will treat you any way I please when you have blatantly—fuck. I’m not doing this here. Get on the fucking bike.” He grabs the spare helmet and gently buckles it on Gideon’s head, handles his own, and when Gideon has finally put his hands around Jay’s waist, the bike comes alive.

It vibrates against his dick, and Gideon closes his eyes, pressing his nose between his alpha’s shoulder blades, breathing in the scent of home.

His arousal is ramping up, but so is the relief. He’s where he belongs—at his alpha’s back, letting Jay take them home, back to their den, back to their mates.

And maybe, just maybe, there’s an inkling that he’s dodged a bullet of disastrous proportions.

Jay handles the bike with skill and confidence. In truth, there’s nothing Jay does that he doesn’t do well. He’s overheard people saying it’s how all enigmas are, and since Gideon lives with three, he can say for certain they are genetically predisposed to excellence. But Jay Rhodes is a god among men.

And he’s Gideon’s.

They complete the twenty-minute drive home in just fourteen minutes–lights, signs, and traffic easily navigated by Jay’s anger, and the gates are already opening when they get there. They park the bike in the garage just as the heavens let loose a loud crack of lightning and an almost immediate boom of thunder, sheets of rain soaking them as they run for the door.

Leo stands just inside the door, phone in hand, having tracked Jay’s location—and likely Gideon’s—on their family safety app.

His babies are still curled up on the couch, awake enough to hear Jay’s clipped command: “Your room, Gideon. Now.”

Grayson, leaning against the kitchen island with a bottle of ibuprofen in hand, waggles his eyebrows.

Gideon flips him off.

As Gideon hits the second floor on the right-wing, he hears Luca’s, “Uh-oh, Daddy is mad. ”

His room isn’t like the others of his pack. Where they embraced the modern aesthetic of clean lines and minimalistic furniture, Gideon has chosen items reminiscent of his time in the cabin in the mountains. There are warm woods and a smallish bed with bedposts and multicolored quilts to ward off the fall chill.

Grayson designed a stone fireplace almost identical to the one his mother had cooked over–on a smaller scale, of course–and it had the only working chimney in the entire dwelling. There are haphazardly organized bookshelves that gave Finn palpitations and herbs and plants he uses for rudimentary healing or for tea. The only thing missing is a cat or three.

Maybe he’ll have time if he lets Maureen and Elias manage Quest—if he still has it, by the end of all this.

He’s dripping rainwater on the floor when Jay slams in after him, his anger bursting and filling Gideon’s sanctuary with his smoky forest fire scent.

“Strip.” Jay pulls his shirt over his head with a single hand, throwing it into the hamper nearest the door. His jeans are undone, but he doesn’t move to take them off. The low light throws his abdominals into shadow, and his happy trail is visible above the open fly.

Gideon hasn’t even moved to strip, too focused on the splendor that is Jay Rhodes.

“Fucking strip, Gideon.”

His tone gets Gideon moving, and he unzips his jacket and the hoodie underneath. Then, his t-shirt. It’s Jay’s turn to be mesmerized, and he tries to keep the smirk off his face.

No sense in pulling too hard on that tiger’s tail— quite yet.

When he’s standing there in his damp boxers, toes dug into the warm rug, Jay closes in to a mere arm’s length away and crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m only going to ask once, Gideon, and I expect an honest answer—none of your usual shit. I am so not in the fucking mood.”

“Or what?” Okay, so maybe he’ll pull the tail a teeny-tiny bit.

“Or I’ll walk out of this room, and you can sit in your mess instead of me fucking the stupid right out of your head.” Well, that is an interesting offer. His wolf is still mad at being denied the chance to maybe get what he wanted from his father, but Gideon has never been one to pass up angry fucking with Jay. Or any fucking, really.

“I went to see Carnell because I know our omega is going to try to take that sadistic asshole on in combat alone. Then you—no doubt—will go berserk and murder Hayes in his stead. And that is not something I can let you do.”

He hates that his voice shakes with conviction. “It is my honor and my privilege to protect you and this pack. It is my right, Alpha. My fucking right.”

He hears the tears of frustration in his voice—he hadn’t even felt them coming.

“Carnell can get me access to the bastard, and I can end this before it even begins. No trial. No jail sentence. And our kitten will never have to worry about him again.”

“Fucking hell. You were going to trade…what, exactly, to get this magical all-access pass?” The words come sharp and raw, crackling with barely restrained fury. His voice is rough, his breath uneven, and his hands curling into fists at his sides.

“Nothing you have to worry about.”

His jaw tightens, and something dangerous flashes behind his eyes. “What do you mean? Everything to do with you is something I’m going to worry about. Every. Damn. Thing. You’re mine, Gideon. Mine. ”

“You don’t own me.”

“No. You’re right. I don’t own you. But you are mine—body and soul. You gave yourself to me first. Before your soulmate. Before your sweetheart, Rowan. Before your beloved nemesis , Finn. Before your secret sweetheart , Leo. Before your prince, Grayson. Before your Kitten. You were mine first. Tell me.”

A bolt of joy burns through Gideon’s belly. This is what Jay does to him—strips him down to his most basic self.

With Jay, Gideon doesn’t have to be strong.

“Quest.” Gideon hates the sound of it. That he would give Carnell the only thing he values—a close second to his mates—makes him sick. It’s his legacy and the memory of his mother, all tied into a place, and it is ingrained in his personality. Quest is as much a part of him as anything else in his life.

“Jay’s jaw drops. He blinks once, twice, his whole body stiffening as if Gideon just drove a knife between his ribs. ‘Fuck, Gid, are you serious?’”

He knows exactly how much Quest means to Gideon. How it was his salvation and his only connection to his mother. It had been the topic of countless late-night pillow talks—especially back when they were still courting—and that wasn’t even that long ago.

“What? You thought I’d sell my soul instead? My left arm? What’s worth more than Nix’s freedom from a life of constant fear? Nothing.” Gideon tilts his head, pushing, goading. “So…am I going to get fucked for real now, or just fucked over by Carnell?”

Jay’s eyes go wide.

For a beat, there’s nothing but silence—then tiny smirk tugs at his lips, amusement flickering beneath the sharp edge of his frustration.

“You are unbelievable.” Jay exhales through his nose, shaking his head.

“Well, shit, that didn’t sound as good out loud as it did in my head.”

It’s met with laughter, and he can’t help but chuckle too.

“Right, please never use ‘fucked’ and Carnell’s name in the same sentence again. I think my dick shriveled up.”

Sure doesn’t look like it.

Gideon pulls off his boxers and climbs into bed, sliding under the quilts. He lifts the edge, wordlessly inviting his alpha in.

Jay doesn’t hesitate—he sheds the rest of his clothes and slips in beside him.

Gideon pulls the covers up, wrapping them both in warmth, tucking them in until there’s nothing but heat, steady breaths, and the quiet press of skin against skin.

It’s not an angry fuck, but Gideon thinks it’s better—if he loves an angry fuck with Jay to break him down and put him back together, he craves this just as much, if not more. Having 100% of his alpha’s attention—his love, his focus—just the two of them, out of time, is so rare that they both treasure it.

Here, beneath the covers, they meet as equals.

Jay and Gideon.

Gideon and Jay.

He pulls Jay over him, cool skin damp from the rain slowly warming under his hands. The man’s ass is a work of art, and he pays homage with a squeeze or two. Jay doesn’t ask him if he’s okay or check in because he trusts Gideon to know his own mind.

But he should have known he wasn’t done.

Jay excels at close-quarters combat, and when they spar in the gym, Gideon never lets him get in and stay close—it’s a surefire way to lose.

This is no different.

Except, maybe, for the losing part.

Jay goes up on his elbows but puts his hands in Gideon’s hair. He kisses his forehead, cheeks, and nose and then looks him in the eye. He can’t move his head because of those hands, and he’s going to have to hear what his alpha has to say.

“Gideon, you are not expendable to this pack, not to me, and not to Nix. There will be no sacrifices.”

“But–”

“No. You had your one chance to tell me your side of it, and now it’s my turn. You will listen, and then I will make you come. Got it?”

He gives a curt nod, already feeling his alpha’s cock hardening alongside his own, slippery with anticipation. He bucks his hips up to help move the proceedings along.

“Focus for thirty more seconds, you fiend. I’m trying to tell you I love you. Where was I? Right—we will protect each other , Gideon, regardless of what Nix decides. We are not acting like vigilantes and trading our life’s work to the devil for a chance at murder.”

“Well, when you put it like that,” he scoffs, and Jay moves his hands so he can look away. It’s further proof Jay really loves him. “Are we on the same page? Yes? Yes. Good. Let’s fuck.”

“Gideon, I’m serious.”

“Yes, Daddy is serious. Gideon is in big trouble. He better show Gideon who’s the boss.” He waggles his eyebrows, and Jay growls.

“Don’t call me that, fuck. The impertinence. Fine. I’ll show you who’s boss. Hands on the headboard. You take them off, and I stop and take my treats elsewhere. Understood?”

The surge of arousal makes him moan, but he manages a nod and locks his hands around the very strong headboard slats. Gideon won’t say he had the bed built for just this purpose, but he did.

“Words.”

His alpha uses his teeth to bite at Gideon’s nipple and then waits.

“Fuck, yes.”

Still waiting, but this time he licks his plush lips. “Excuse me?”

“Fuck, yes…Daddy. Nooooooooooo.”

Jay’s fingertips are digging into his ribs mercilessly.

“Okay, Okay. Yes, please.” He puts his hands back up on the headboard, cock harder than before.

“Hmmm, Gid, how are you so pretty? I love this. You have nice tits. I don’t think we talk enough about how nice they are. I should maybe show you.” Jay uses his teeth again to nip at his nipple and pull it up, laving it with his tongue and pulling away, only to blow on it. The cold air burns, sending sharp bolts of pleasure-pain to his dick.

The other one is next, and then he moves back to the first one again. The pleasure pours through him, and like always when it’s just the two of them, Gideon lets the rest of the world slip away. He’s not responsible for anyone or anything except feeling good.

Jay’s hands roam over his belly and flanks, firm and hot, grounding him in touch and heat.

A whispered breath against his skin. “My beautiful Gideon—soft skin and the scent of thunder.”

Fingertips press into familiar territory. “Especially here. This is my favorite spot.” His alpha’s fingers rub over the scent gland in his groin, where his hip meets his thigh.

“You don’t say.” The sass is strong, and he can’t help himself, especially knowing it might earn him something special.

“Oh, I see how it is.” Lightning quick, there are fangs sunk into his groin on top of Jay’s mating bite. The pain is bright and sharp, and it’s so pleasurable when it’s combined with the two fingers his alpha has rubbing the head of his dick in firm tight circles, and he almost comes right then and there.

“Stop. I’m going to come. Jay. Please. Want you inside, fuck.”

Jay is breathing hard, and Gideon can feel his cock twitching against his lower leg, leaving a trail of precome.

“You sure?”

There’s blood on his chin, and his fangs are still out, but he’s reaching for the lube, so Gideon only says, “Mmhmm.”

Jay tries to roll him over, but he finds enough words to tell him, “No. Like this.”

As much fucking as he’d done with Rowan in his rut, he doesn’t need much prep, and Gideon likes the burn, anyway. Jay is thick and only a little shorter than Rowan, so it should be perfect.

When he’s got three fingers up to the second knuckle, he’s ready. “Fuck me, alpha. Hard.”

It’s enough to get Jay to put aside his usual caring approach. In the next second, he’s got his alpha’s cockhead pushing in, and the burn is exquisite. He’s all the way in with a single push, Jay’s pelvis pressed flush to his ass and Gideon’s legs up and over his impressive shoulders.

“Fuck. Yes. So good, Jay. Now…fuck…me.”

Jay picks up the pace, slamming in and dragging out slowly. Gideon clenches down, and Jay groans. He realizes he’s still holding on to the headboard when a rail snaps off in his hand.

It’s enough to make Jay stop in surprise.

“Don’t fucking stop.”

“Watch. Your. Tone.” Each word is punctuated by a thrust that hits his prostate dead on—the impact making his balls draw up.

“I’m going to come, Jay.”

A few more thrusts and Jay’s fingers are back on the head of his cock, thumb pressed firmly to the underside just below the head, where he likes it best, and then he’s coming hard. Jay doesn’t let up, though—his hand around Gideon’s knot, massaging with a tight grip. The second orgasm is harder than the first, making his vision dim and his throat hurt from the resulting shout.

“Where do you want it, Gid? Inside? Here?” There’s a hand on his belly, then one on his lips. “Here?”

They all sound perfect, but ultimately, he chooses: “Inside, love. Fill me up.”

Jay’s moan is long as he pushes his knot past Gideon’s sore rim and comes. Gideon loves it when they are tied like this and bears down, putting his hand around his knot again, and goes straight past oversensitive into a third smaller orgasm.

He milks another moan from Jay, whose arms give out.

“Oomph. Fuck, you are heavier than you look. Watch my legs, you heathen.”

Eyes closed, Jay kisses him quietly. “Shhh, my love, you’ll wake the baby.”

“Baby?”

“Mmmhmmm. Babies.” Jay points his chin over his shoulder toward the door, and Gideon can see two sets of eyes peering in through a crack in the door.

“You little voyeurs! Get in here.”

“Yesss!” Luca drags a red-cheeked Nix in the door and right up onto the bed.

“Luca! We shouldn’t.”

Jay turns his head and uses his hand to grab the front of their omega’s t-shirt so Nix can kiss the dopey, come-drunk look off his face. It’s so endearingly ridiculous.

“It’s okay. We don’t mind. We like it, don’t we, honey.”

Gideon slaps his ass. “Don’t fucking ‘honey’ me, Jay. How long were you kittens at the door, hmm?” He clenches on Jay’s knot in revenge, just to see him shudder.

“Gid—deon, fuck.”

“I’m sorry we watched, Jamie. I wanted Luca to bring me up when I heard you…uh…yelling.” Nix’s hands are digging into his thighs, leaving tiny pink crescents, dick hard under his shirt.

“Sugar, Nix thought Jaybird was kicking your ass, not owning it. He wanted to be sure you both were alright.”

“And you, Luca?” His horny boy never missed an opportunity to watch, hoping to be asked to join.

“Wanted to show him you were okay. I also wanted to ask if it’s okay if Nix kept his promise. I waited because I wanted to be sure it was still okay?” The scent of chocolate and vanilla is so sweet that Jay leans in to get a deeper breath, cock twitching hard inside Gideon’s ass.

“Okay. No. No . Alpha, your knot is never going down if you do that. You two, out. Go.”

Nix scrambles off the bed, the front of his t-shirt tented by his erection and the back soaked through with a wet spot. He must feel it because his nose wrinkles.

Seeing that Nix is a bit worked up, Luca climbs down, too.

“Kitten, you are so good; if you want a t-shirt from the dresser, go ahead. As for the promise, you are good for waiting, Luca. Hmm.”

He is an expert in good ideas.

“Why don’t we have dinner, and then we can see if there’s anyone who wants to see Nix keep his promise in the living room afterward.”

Luca’s mouth pops open with a moan at the mere possibility of an audience, and drool slides down his chin. “Luca. Do not come. I mean it. You do not have permission.”

“In front of everyone?” Nix’s eyes glow blue, and his red mouth opens so he can draw in quick, panting breaths—his sex-vanilla scent thick and delicious.

With a growl, Jay’s knot finally slips free, even if his cock is still mostly hard. “Nix—”

Nix’s nostrils flare, too, as he gets a whiff of Jay’s come, eyes rolling back with a moan. Nix is frozen, his breathing shallow, his fingers clenched around the bedpost like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. His scent is intoxicating—vanilla laced with something uncertain, almost trembling at the edges. He’s trying so hard.

Gideon doesn’t tell him not to come, but he can see his kitten has an iron grip on the base of his pretty dick.

Jay doesn’t touch him but instead whispers, “Nix, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want. You can keep your promise to Luca in his room—or not at all.”

They’re on the edge of a precipice, frozen in place, careful not to push their omega too far.

He’s trying so hard.

Such a good boy.

When he opens his eyes, they’re still glowing blue, and his deep voice is hypnotic. “I didn’t come, Luca. I promised to save it for you, and I did.”

He smiles at his success, and Gideon groans silently; Jay’s now fully hard dick kicks between his legs.

They’re sitting on a powder keg.

Luca’s eyes are scrunched up, and his hands are clenched tightly at his sides. Gideon is so proud that he’s doing everything he can to obey Gideon’s command not to come. “You’re so good, honey. So good for me.”

“Okay, Jay. I would like to keep my promise in the living room in front of everyone. Maybe we could also do that other thing I asked about, Luca? Where we get to taste everyone else together?”

Nix is hesitant, not pushing Luca’s buttons on purpose—but it’s too late.

It’s too much for Luca. His wail comes first, sharp and raw, right before his legs lock up and his dick pulses hard behind his Rainbow Dash t-shirt, release dripping onto the floor.

Gideon is on his feet in an instant, catching him before he can fall. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m not mad.” His voice is steady and soothing. “Jay, can you maybe help Nix change his t-shirt? I’ll get my good boy cleaned up, and we can see what’s happening with the others.”

Nix looks confused, his gaze flicking between them. “Is Luca hurt? Luca?”

“Luca is okay, Nix. He just really likes your ideas.”

Jay tugs at Nix’s wrist. “Come on, let’s go to my room so we can talk, and I can get a shower.”

Before he leaves, though, he grabs Gideon by the throat and kisses him hard, all heat and intent.

“I love you, Gideon Carnell. Remember what I said.”