6. Daphne Toaster Waffles #2
“Security measures. Things got a little… complicated. Anyway, Threx isn’t here.” He yawned again, resting his massive body against the wall. I eyed him, wondering where the hell he had slept last night if it wasn’t with me. “He and Jessie had an errand to run.”
A breath of air struck my lungs. It was one thing to get laid, but quite another to sleep next to them afterward.
“Oh, that is okay,” I smiled. “I’m actually here to see Wolfe.”
Nathem smirked.
“Really,” he teased, arching his brows. “That's nice.”
“Fuck you, not for that,” I rolled my eyes, turning to stare down the poorly lit entryway. This place never changed. It was dark and sweaty, reminding me of dusty old libraries. I peered at Wolfe’s door at the end of the hallway, then up the stairs.
For the most part, the layout was simple.
To the right of the entryway, the living space opened up into one wide, uneven square, cluttered with mismatched chairs and random posters the boys dragged in and tacked to the walls with whatever sharp thing they could find: knives, forks…
. gum. In the back sat a kitchen stocked to feed minor gods, along with a door that led to the basement. I never went down there.
To my left was an old, mahogany stairwell that twisted up through three levels, divided by rank.
The newest members slept at the top with the recruits; the cleanup crew occupied the second; and the inner circle held the first: Nathem, Blade, Jessie, Kade, and Threx, while Wolfe took the lower chamber when he leveled up, just across from where I stood.
I attempted to move toward the door, but Nathem caught me and pulled me into him.
“There is puke,” he pointed at the floor, and I glanced down, making a face.
“Gross, Nathem. Why the hell hasn’t anyone cleaned it up?”
“Because Blade did it. And I am not fucking touching that shit,” he curled up his nose. “Here,” he ushered me to his back and hunkered down.
“A piggyback ride?” I laughed, nudging him in the spine. “Are we seven?”
“What, you prefer princess style?” he turned, whisking me into his arms and stomping over the mess in a single stride.
I let out a laugh at how massive these men were when he sat me down on my feet.
“Milady,” the accent made it worse.
“When did you get this one?” I asked, tracing the antlered creature spanning his neck. It was shadowy, evoking a sense of folklore that felt like home.
“Threx did it for me a few weeks ago.”
A warm feeling fell into my chest, and I couldn’t help but reach for it.
In another world, Thayor Milo Gavros would have been a tattoo artist. The only thing he loved more than fighting was art! Give him a black pen, a piece of steady paper, and a couple of untethered hours, and he was in heaven.
One year, when we only had ten dollars to our name, he spent three hours drawing a pair of wings on my back with body markers we found at a porn store for my birthday.
“Come on,” I snagged Nathem’s hand and led him into the galley kitchen, where four refrigerators lined the outer wall.
Flinging it open, I sifted through the freezer-burned items, frozen burritos, and thousand-year-old chicken until I saw them: toaster waffles with a giant FUCK OFF written in black marker. Smiling, I held them in the air.
“He will end you!” Nathem laughed when I plopped two into the toaster.
“Don’t let him hit anyone,” I smiled, sitting on the counter. “Before telling him it was me.”
Nathem shrugged, taking a step closer.
“I make no promises!” He winked, grabbing the waffles and spreading butter and syrup into every square. I smiled when he pressed them together and handed them to me with a grin.
“You remembered!” I cheered.
“You’re difficult to forget,” he spoke quietly, shifting his gaze to the floor.
It was easy to pretend that crawling out of the Underworld was some personal act of greatness until you were forced to stare into the faces of those you left behind.
This life was a cage, and I was among the few who knew the men inside as real, breathing humans who love, fuck, and cry.
They trusted me with them, and I walked away.
“Eat it before it gets cold,” Nathem nudged, and I took a bite, allowing the syrup to drip down my chin. He thumbed it off, shaking his head. “When was the last time you ate food?”
“I eat food every day,” I lied.
“Not cookies,” his eyes telling me to chew. “Honestly, Daph. You can take care of everyone but yourself.”
He was not wrong.
I gave him a look, perhaps lingering too long on the corded way his neck stretched under the crease of all his chiseled features, and took a bite in the silence.
Crunch.
“Stop looking at me like that.” Nathem swiped his finger over the syrup on my lip and brought it to his mouth.
We had made out twice, but it never went past that.
Despite the boundaries in the clubhouse being translucent at best, Nathem wasn’t a taker.
He chose carefully and never saw me as something to be used and discarded.
“I will when you stop looking like that!” I smiled, eating the last of my toaster waffle perfection.
“Or what?” He taunted, breathing into my neck.
I wonder if it hurt when he sold his soul to the god of gray sweatpants? Because holy fuck.
“Or I might let you kiss me.”
Man, I was feeling flirty. Or deflective. Or both… or deflective.
“I’ve already kissed you,” he teased, spreading my knees apart and scooting my ass to the edge of the counter. “But I have always wondered what you taste like,” he said, skimming my waistband, making the world slide into the quiet and stay there forever.
“Nate,” I breathed.
“You know, I have always wondered why Wolfe can’t keep his hands off you?”
I panted, watching a smile break on his lips.
“Or why Threx’s dick never goes limp whenever you’re around.”
Suddenly, the air moved. Swirling. Deep and rolling.
“Do you know how hard it is to kill bad guys with a fucking boner?” He bit at my smirk. “Maybe you are a faerie.”
I gazed into his eyes while dipping my fingers between my legs, covering them with the sensations he created in my body.
Nathem watched them sink low, the edges of his composure shifting only slightly when I offered them to his mouth.
He swallowed.
“Are you trying to get me killed, faerie?” he asked, several golden strands of light haloing his face.
“You’re right,” I mumbled through a smirk. “It’s not worth it.”
“Fuck you,” he growled, yanking me until I was taut against him. I let out a heady laugh when his breath swiped over my fingers in a gentle growl.
“Fucking hell,” he moaned in a furious suck. I laughed when he nibbled, working his tongue until it claimed every inch.
Nathem’s mouth was wicked, trained, and I was all too aware of the ways it could ruin me.
“So am I one?” I leaned into his chest, but his fist tightened around my waistband, knotting the pressure at my clit.
Goddamn.
“Are you what?” he asked, slow and considering.
Would he do it? Taste me on this counter? Make me his breakfast?
A flash of resistance curled through me, because sex with Wolfe was reformation. And Thay? My deathbed. But Nathem was my friend. My person. And so what if I craved a little fun before I went and blew everything the fuck up.
“A faerie?” I palmed his chest, applying the sweetest pressure.
“You should know,” his lips swept over my ear, each syllable burning hot, “I jerked off to your tits this morning.” He took my hand and guided it between my legs. “Maybe return the favor?”
This was how he got what he wanted without taking it. Clever Irish devil. He leaned forward, his muscled arm stretching past me as he braced himself on the counter, nudging his nose along my neck in slow, stupid circles. Perhaps I should stay off BookTok before my ovaries explode.
“You sandwich, waffle thieving…” Blade stopped short, his eyes darting between Nathem and me before splitting into a wide smile. “Oh shit. You two were about to fuck in the kitchen.”
I laughed into Nathem’s chest when the room spun.
“Who is about to fuck in the kitchen?”
The sound of his voice cut straight through me.
Thay.