Chapter 27
Twenty-Seven
A soft gasp wakes me up from a shallow sleep.
I learned at a very early age to always be hypervigilant, even in slumber.
The metaphorical “sleep with one eye open.” Nikolai would surprise Aleksei and me in the middle of the night.
Sneak into our room and attack us while we were asleep in bed.
Just another one of his lessons to never let your guard down.
It wasn’t until after he was dead that I stopped sleeping with a knife tucked under my pillow.
I listen for the phantom sound that woke me up but only hear Hendrix’s light snoring from the other side of the living room and the fading crackles of the dying embers in the fireplace next to me.
The sound comes again, only softer this time.
Turning my head, I freeze when I’m met with Tristan’s whiskey-brown stare through the darkness, his eyes locking with mine as he kisses Syn, her head bent back and resting on his shoulder, her eyes closed, and their mouths fused in passion.
He’s behind her on her pallet, his arm draped over her hip.
A quiet moan slips from her into him as his hand moves underneath the waistband of her fleece pajama bottoms. Our gazes remained tethered as he finger-fucks her, and I can’t look away, the sight of Syn—the way she arches into him, seeking more of the pleasure he’s giving, the way her body responds to his touch, and the little gasps she emits—is too enticing.
Too hypnotizing to look away, even though I know I should.
As if taunting me, challenging me to stop him, the movement of his hand becomes more pronounced, taking her to the knife’s edge of pleasure.
My panted breaths are shallow as I silently watch.
Each erotic second is both mesmerizing and torturous as I try to look away but can’t find the strength to do so.
His tongue thrusts in her mouth, kissing her in the same frantic rhythm his fingers are fucking her. Syn’s chest hitches. Her back bows in a severe arc, her fingernails scoring into his forearm, as her entire body shudders with orgasmic release when she comes. Fuck, she’s beautiful.
Tristan drinks in her moan, deepening the kiss as she climaxes, his eyes still on me as she quivers from the aftershocks of rapture.
The tension leaves Syn’s body like turbulent waters calming into a gentle swell, and a smile graces her lips. With a sated hum, she kisses his neck, turns on her side, and goes ramrod rigid when our eyes meet.
Tense seconds pass. An owl hoots in the far-off distance.
I slide my hand, palm up, across the blanket toward her. Without a sound, she slips her hand in mine, our fingers curling around each other’s, her wedding bands warm against my skin. I close my eyes, sleep following soon after.