Chapter 19
NINETEEN
ROMULUS
I spring awake and blink in shock at the feel of the warm, naked woman curled in my arms.
At least I have my pants on this time.
I should disentangle myself from her immediately. Extract myself from this bed and this situation before I do something I’ll regret. It’s wrong for me to stay here and steal this moment, enjoying the thick curves of her leg thrown over my hip, my hand wrapped possessively around her soft waist.
Reflexively, my hand squeezes a little—just testing, cataloging the sensation.
And she responds, nestling her face in further against my naked chest with a small, contented sound that makes my heart stutter.
For a moment, I can’t breathe.
And it strikes me with the force of a cavalry charge—
Dear god, I never knew what it was to want before this moment.
Because I want her. Not just sexually, though yes, my cock is already stiffening with wakefulness, responding to her proximity. But it’s so much more than that. So much deeper and more terrifying.
I want to wake with her curled around me like this every morning.
I want her to look at me with those laughing, teasing eyes of hers—looking at me, not through me to find my brother.
I want to protect her and care for her so she is safe and cherished and never has a want or need that is not immediately met.
My chest lightens with this amazing discovery, this revelation of desire I’ve never allowed myself.
But then I’m struck with the deep blow of loss in the next breath.
Because the only reason she’s curled around me so intimately at this moment is because she was with him.
Remus.
My eternal nemesis who’s finally gone too far. If I could carve him out of the back of my head with a blade, I would do it without hesitation. Consequences be damned.
He picked the one woman in the world who was perfect for me—intelligent, brave, warm, beautiful—but also had a big enough heart to care for him in spite of all his bullshit. In spite of everything he is.
She’s impossible, and yet here she is. Real and warm and breathing softly in my arms.
The question is, what the hell am I going to do about her now? What are his plans for her? Because he’s somehow managed to block his mind and memories from me—with Layden’s help, undoubtedly—so for once, I can’t see his schemes. Can’t predict his next move.
I’m playing chess, blindfolded, with a maniac.
And it’s not just some abstract battle in the name of some faceless warlord I care nothing about.
This is for her.
I won’t let anything harm her. Especially not my twin.
Selfishly, I stay perfectly still, holding her for hours as dawn slowly brightens the sky beyond the windows. Watching her. Memorizing every detail.
Her face is so perfect and serene in sleep—the slight part of her lips, the flutter of her eyelashes, the way her hair spreads across my chest like dark silk. Her beauty makes my chest physically ache, a sensation I’m entirely unfamiliar with.
I feel her begin to stir as sunlight spills golden across the bed, and I know it’s time to depart. Time to do the tactical thing and extract myself before this becomes more complicated.
But still, I don’t move.
If I’m to have stolen these moments with her—and they are stolen, taken without permission while she slept—I won’t flee without her knowing about it. Unlike my brother, I’m no liar. I won’t be a coward either.
So I stay there as her eyes blink awake, sleep-encrusted and bleary in the soft morning light. She starts a little when her vision clears, a slight gasp escaping her lips when she sees my face hovering above hers.
“You,” she whispers. Not accusatory. Just... surprised.
But she doesn’t immediately yank away in disgust or fear, and it gives my foolish heart hope it has no right to feel.
“Me,” I say, my voice coming out more gruff than I intend. Rougher with hours of silence and emotion I can’t quite contain.
She blinks several times, then swallows. Her arms and legs are still entangled with mine, bare skin against bare skin. “How long have you... been awake?”
I’m tempted to lie. To say I just awoke moments ago. That would be the tactical choice—give away less information, maintain control.
But I remind myself: No. No lies. Not with her.
“Many hours.”
She blinks rapidly, looking confused. Perhaps trying to calculate exactly how many hours I’ve been lying here holding her sleeping form.
“You were sleeping so peacefully.” I allow myself to brush a strand of hair from her face with my free hand, the touch feather-light. “It seemed wrong to wake you.”
Her eyes search mine as if waiting for me to say more. Waiting for the other shoe to drop, perhaps. When I don’t continue, she reaches for the sheet, beginning to disentangle from me as she covers herself and rolls away. “Oh.”
That single syllable carries so much disappointment that my heart hammers against my ribs.
I rush to add, “And it felt so good to hold you.” The admission costs me, but I force it out anyway. “Selfishly, I didn’t want to wake you.”
I hear her sharp inhale as she turns around to look at me, eyes wide. Her bare back is exposed as the rest of the sheet is drawn tight around her front, creating a barrier between us. Her eyes are full of questions—confusion and hope and doubt all warring together.
“But I thought you hated me and wanted to get rid of me.”
“I never said that,” I say heatedly, the words coming faster than I can control them.
I dare to reach out and place a hand on her sheet-covered thigh.
It feels cruel to have the fabric between us after hours of holding onto her soft, bared flesh.
“I’ve only been afraid my brother was using you for some purpose that would harm you. I was trying to protect you.”
“Remus wouldn’t hurt me.” She pulls away slightly, defensive.
“Perhaps not,” I say, only to humor her.
To maintain the tactical ground I’m gaining.
I have absolutely no faith in my brother’s capacity for genuine care, but the strategist in me knows that playing along may get me further toward my goal.
Especially considering where Remus has positioned me—literally in bed with the woman we both want.
“I’ve been thinking about a lot of things during the night while I had the privilege of holding you as you slept.” I let the words hang between us, intimate and weighted.
She blushes beautifully and looks away, color flooding her cheeks.
“I was wondering if maybe there’s a way we could all work together.
” I pause, choosing my next words carefully.
“You want my brother, and—” I want you, I leave conspicuously unspoken, no need to put all of my cards so blatantly on the table just yet, “—and I don’t want to stand in the way of your happiness.
But there remains a reality I hope you won’t find too inconvenient. ”
She looks back at me, curiosity lighting her features as I reach for her hand. Her fingers are small and warm in mine.
“I share this body with my brother.”
She blinks in confusion. “What are you proposing?”
Again, I keep my cards close to my chest. Let her think this is her idea.
“Just that if we communicate—if we work together instead of against each other—maybe it doesn’t have to be uncomfortable.
You falling asleep with him and waking up to me.
” I squeeze her hand gently. “It’s an unusual situation, certainly.
But we could all find some happiness and comfort here, couldn’t we? ”
“Really?” She breathes out the word like a prayer. “You’d be open to something like that?”
I can’t help but rub her palm with my thumb in slow, deliberate circles. Tactile. Grounding. I don’t miss the subtle hitch of her breath, the way her pupils dilate slightly.
She blinks, looking excited now. “Remus and I could finally have a real chance.”
I try to ignore the sharp stab of pain those words inflict—like a blade between my ribs. But her eyes suddenly search mine with concern. “But wait, is that fair... to you?”
I smile, and I make sure it reaches my eyes. Make it warm and genuine and self-sacrificing. Oh, my precious one. Give a tactician an inch, and he will take a mile. “I will be more than content.”
Continuing to rub her hand with mine in low, massaging circles that I can tell are affecting her, I say carefully, “Because even a moment of intimacy with you in my arms makes up for a lifetime of not having anything. I’m not a greedy man.”
All right, so perhaps I have told one lie after all.
While no, I have not been a greedy man in the past—I’ve never been allowed to want anything—I have a feeling I might become very, very greedy when it comes to Lauren. Ravenous, even.
She smiles at me then—bright and genuine and full of hope—and throws her arms around my neck. The gesture fills my chest with happiness like light bursting through after the darkest storm. Like victory after a siege.
She pulls away far too quickly, but I hold on to the feeling. Catalog it. Store it away.
“I knew there was a way to make this work!” She’s practically glowing with excitement. “Just wait until I tell Remus!”
I hide my smile behind a more neutral expression. Unlike me, Remus has always been greedy. And selfish. And self-serving. He won’t share. He can’t.
But him showing his true colors—his possessiveness, his inability to compromise, his fundamental selfishness—will only drive Lauren more into my arms.
Together, she and I will deal with Remus the way I always have: by outmaneuvering him, by being smarter and more patient and more willing to sacrifice in the short term for long-term gain.
And I will trust in my family to help me contain him when that inevitable time comes.
The pieces are falling into place exactly as they should.