Chapter 22
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
Iris
H eat radiates off me.
Killian swears, the predator goes back into hiding as he turns, happy, benevolent Daddy to the world’s cutest little girl who not only pulls heartstrings but plays songs on them.
“It’s a game with sticks and balls and pockets,” he says.
If I’d been drinking, I’d choke. He just made that so sexual. He scoops her up and kisses her belly and she squeals laughter.
Killian glances at me and winks. “Though most people here prefer pool.”
“Swimming.” Emmie nods with the kind of wisdom only little kids have. “I like swimming. Can we have a pool?”
“No not that sort of pool,” he says, sidestepping the issue of a pool, “it’s a game with a big table and—look who’s here.”
“Icy!” She gasps, her face lighting up. “You is pretty.”
Xavier takes her and hugs her as she yawns, her owl in one hand. She looks at him. “And Papa is extra pretty,” Emmie says, Delores dangling as she lays against Xavier in pink pajamas. Then she looks up, adding anxiously, “Please don’t sends me to bed.”
“Saved by a four-year-old,” whispers Killian to me and I press my thighs together.
Then she looks at Killian. “You is pretty, too, Daddy. We have the same hair.”
“You should be in bed. Where’s Freya?” Killian asks as the woman in question comes in.
Mouthing sorry to Killian and turning to Xavier to do the same she gives me an unreadable look.
“There you are, monster.” She reaches for Emmie. “Daddy’s right. You should be asleep.”
“I heard Icy.” She tries to squeeze Xavier. “Dance with me, Papa.”
Xavier grins and sways with the little girl and my heart melts down into a puddle. And then I happen to glance at Killian. He’s definitely put the predator away as he holds his phone and takes a photo of them and it makes my legs wobble.
How can two dangerous men be so sweet when it comes to the little girl?
I want that , I suddenly think with a surge of need so strong, so out of nowhere I don’t know what to do with it. I want that. I want this little girl as mine, bonding us, and I want these men and?—
Holy shit. I stop. Where did that all come from?
This is most definitely not what I want. The happy family situation. The norm. I don’t want that. I’m against that. For me, anyway, but I push a hand against my stomach as that surge rolls through me again.
I walk up to Killian and swipe the bottle, taking another swig.
He takes the opportunity to sign at Xavier, who nods.
Emmie’s asleep, flopped against her Papa, the owl in danger of falling. But Killian comes to the rescue and catches Delores as Xavier hands their daughter to Freya. Killian gives her the owl.
When they’re gone, Killian takes the bottle, sets it down, and pulls something off a rack and swirls it around me. It’s long, soft. A ,.
“Let’s go,” he says.
It’s like coming home.
Outside the street’s alive but in here, a boarded-up storefront, it’s a different type of life. One I feel I could reach out and touch.
The snippets of conversation I catch are full of hope and determination. And it all rushes through me like electricity.
I’ve never seen so many different people, and it’s like a tiny cosmos, worlds mingling in a snapshot.
Flanked by Killian and Xavier, I breathe it all in. Xavier’s presence soothing against my skin as his close proximity sinks like heat into me. And Killian’s? It unnerves. His fingers stroke over my back, over the silk, stopping where the first frill on the skirt begins.
It’s like being pulled in two directions, the calm and the storm, but it also weirdly centers me, as if they merge to become something else completely.
For a moment, I look up at Xavier. He’s both on guard and in his element which makes no sense unless I think to him in the bar with Emmie. There, where it’s his domain, where he belongs, there’s a part that silently announces what’s his and what he’ll do to protect it.
And Killian? He’s got a deadly, wild streak, something that’s reckless, makes me breathless and I know by the hand on me, he’s announcing I’m theirs.
Theirs.
A weird thing and I stop my wayward heart from losing control, from bouncing off the walls it’s not a pack theirs. It’s not an Alpha claiming an Omega theirs.
It’s I’m with them for the evening.
If I can focus on that, I’ll be fine.
Besides, I don’t want to belong to anyone. And as adorable as Emmie is, I’m not looking to be a mother.
But urges push and pulsate in me, urges that are new, that make me smell every person in here, from the scent of spiced bread to delicate tea. From a new car to the pages of an old book.
Blackberries and warm sun on citrus. Leather and honey and spice.
Those last two twine around me.
I’m the only one with a blocker on. A scent that’s meant to be just vanilla, not complex. Flat. I can’t really smell it, but I’m hoping it hides me, if indeed I’m giving off anything at all.
Plain, man-made vanilla was the most banal scent I could think of.
Most banal and hideously expensive.
When I’m in control, I go back to eating up everything in the room.
Two women, one in trousers, vest and shirt, and the other in a short red dress hold hands. I shift my attention. Two gorgeous people who are androgynous in appearance talk to a frizzy haired woman who’s face is lined with age and wisdom.
There are people from all over the Lower Side, and some from the middle-class houses.
A beautiful man in a long stylish black kilt I immediately covet captures my attention and he smiles at me.
It’s a friendly, pleasant smile, one with no agenda behind it. I smile back. I want to talk to him. And with Xavier signing with a person to my left, and Killian talking in a low voice to a woman at my right, I figure why not.
I go to take a step but Killian stops his conversation with the woman in its tracks and grabs me, holding me there. He leans in. “Don’t talk to anyone, Icy. Keep your damned mouth shut and listen.”
“But—”
“Or I’ll take you outside, spank you in a way you won’t like, and leave you to fend for yourself.”
“You would not,” I say, heat burning through me.
He leans in a little closer. “Try me.”
“What if I like it all?”
Killian hisses in a breath as Xavier touches his arms, the moment blooming out into something so throbbingly erotic as I imagine Xavier watching, stroking himself, as Killian spanks me.
Each slam of his hand ricocheting through me to my clit like they’re both licking it.
And I can hear him, clear as day, tell Killian to spank me harder.
And then I’m tossed to Xavier who starts to finger me.
“Come on in, she’s like lava cake,” he says in softly accented English.
“Don’t mind if I do. But I’m hitting that cunt hard. Teach her a real lesson?—”
Woah.
Imaginary Killian stops taking and I try to breathe in past the knot of desire that’s deep in me, somehow connected to my throat, blocking air. Or maybe it’s imaginary hands choking me as one of them slams their big cock into me?—
I almost stagger and I step forward, away from Killian.
What the hell was that?
A waking sex dream?
I’ve seen porn.
But not like that.
Nothing like that.
Everything undulates into a slow, rolling throb, and I want to run and run until I’m somewhere with quiet and darkness and a fresh, cool breeze and Killian and Xavier, taking turns kissing me, biting me and I can feel those waves of exquisite pleasure and?—
Why the fuck is this insane waking sex dream still with me?
Something cold’s pressed into my hand and heat streaks through me from the fingertips touching my flesh.
I look up.
Xavier.
Those intense blue eyes hold me there. Just full of calm and waiting and there’s something like a safe space there. But maybe that’s in my head because neither man is safe.
But still…I cling and breathe and Killian says, “Drink it. He’s telling you to drink it. If you’re going to freak out, he’ll take you home. Now. Up to you.”
Asshole.
But the uncaring tone is another lifeline, and I hold that too. I drink the drink.
It’s rough, burning, alcoholic and I drink it down, past the sputter.
“I’m fine.” I resist the urge to wipe my mouth as someone starts talking.
But Killian doesn’t let it go. “Are you sure? Because if you’re not, you can go.”
“Try and stop me from staying,” I say.