CHAPTER THIRTEEN || DANIEL #3
Lee pulled back, his gaze locked on mine. “Will you cum for us, Daniel?”
I nodded, breathless again, scarcely even aware of what I was doing.
Lee glanced at Hunter. “Keep thrusting—gently. Hit his spot.”
Hunter nodded, then did as Lee had directed, his cock rubbing against my pleasure spot deliberately, over and over again, the way Lee had done it.
Lee stroked me with his hand, bringing me right to the edge.
I let out gasps of pleasure, my fingers splaying into the mattress.
Then, when I was close—before I could even tell him—Lee bent down and took me in his mouth again. The sensation of his warm wetness around my hard cock, combined with Hunter still buried inside me, was enough to bring me over the edge.
With a cry of release, I came down his throat.
Lee swallowed every drop.
Hunter pulled out of me while I was in the throes of my climax, and I barely even noticed the sting. He settled onto the bed, on my other side.
Then he pulled me in for a kiss as well. It was surprisingly gentle.
When he pulled back, his eyes were soft and his whole expression had broken open with wonder. “Daniel,” he whispered, speaking my name like it was something wonderful, a note of sheer awe in his voice. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I whispered. I glanced over at Lee, who had pulled off me and was watching the two of us with a soft expression. “Both of you.”
Lee settled down on the opposite side of me, a contented smile on his lips.
For a long time, the three of us didn’t say anything. Their arms were both around me, and we just breathed, letting our heart rates return to normal again.
“Well, I’d say that was a successful trial run,” Hunter said, breaking the silence. “For me, at least.” His gaze found mine. “Were you—did you—?”
“It was perfect.”
His gaze slid to Lee, who nodded back at him in confirmation.
“Good,” Hunter said roughly. His arm was heavy across my waist, his head lying on my chest, and Lee was on my other side, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my abdomen, his breathing slowly evening out.
I felt… complete.
The mate bond hummed between the three of us. It wasn’t the aching thrum I was used to. Nor the desperation tinged with so much pain. Instead, it was warm, settled, and whole.
This was what it was supposed to feel like.
We lay there like that for a long time. Both of the twins settled into sleep as I watched the afternoon sun slanting through the curtains, painting everything in gold.
Outside, the commune was quiet. For a long time, nothing existed except the three of us and the warmth between our bodies. It was just us and it was perfect.
And then the guilt crept in. I’d promised no more secrets, but I still hadn’t told them about the reversal spell. Should I have done that before letting this happen? Was it wrong that I hadn’t?
The unfinished spell was sitting in the bottom drawer of my desk, in my cabin, less than two hundred feet away.
I’d built in the containment portion of the ritual, the limitations, the desired intention, and the various empowerments the spell would need—conjuring the elements, channeling the powers of the moon, all of it.
It was complete, except for one critical component: the catalyst for the actual merging of two elements into one whole.
It wasn’t as easy as it sounded. Spells weren’t like on television or in movies. They weren’t as simple as saying an off-the-cuff phrase in Latin or stringing together rhyming couplets and hoping for the best.
While new spells could be invented, it wasn’t a fast or easy process.
They had to be forged over a prolonged period, through the power of rote, with a thread of magical power woven through them the entire time, until the universe finally relented and allowed a new pathway in reality to be carved.
Depending on the complexity of the spell, that could take days, weeks, months, or even years of regular practice before it happened.
But the good news was, once the spell existed, anyone with enough magical ability could cast it.
My best bet was to find an already-existing spell that did something similar to what I needed—taking two or more things and turning them into one, without destroying them in the process—and use that.
Thus far, I hadn’t run across an incantation designed to do what I needed.
Yet.
The problem was, there were still a lot of spells out there, and sifting through even a single journal or tome of magic sometimes took weeks—I was looking for a very specific needle in a massive haystack.
But the pack’s collection of books on magic and arcane lore was extensive.
I’d been studying their texts for years, in between research they asked me to help with, and I still hadn’t gone through everything they had.
But even if I did exhaust the pack’s archives without finding what I was looking for, I could probably call the Seattle coven.
I had friends there. Poppy probably wouldn’t mind letting me access the coven’s magical library.
Maybe she’d even help me with the research. I’d find the solution eventually.
Which meant that I needed to tell them.
And I would. Just not now.
If I told them about the spell now, it would change everything. It would introduce doubt and pain where there was finally a measure of certainty and peace. And it wasn’t necessary. It could take me years to find the answer I was looking for.
It was impossible to lie to myself, though. Because underneath everything else, my real fear—especially now—was that they’d say yes.
And then I would lose them both. Of course, they’d both still be inside of Hunter Lee Jameson, because they were him, but they wouldn’t be themselves anymore, would they?
But regardless of my fears—or what I selfishly wanted out of the situation—they had the right to tell me what they needed. They had the right to choose. Even if their choice might ultimately break my heart.
Soon—but not today—I’d explain what I’d found so far, and I’d tell them it would be entirely their choice as to what happened next with it. I’d even offer to destroy my research, if that’s what they wanted. But waiting was definitely the right choice. The practical one.
After all, tonight I needed to do the locator spell for the pack. Hunter, Lee, and I had agreed to wait until nightfall, so that they could shift at will if they needed to. And it gave me more time to recover the power I’d expended yesterday.
And there was no telling what my spell would lead us to. Telling them now might distract them. It could be dangerous.
Tomorrow, I promised myself.
Never mind that it was what I’d told myself yesterday, too. And the day before that. And every day since they’d become wolves in the first place.