Chapter 11 Mira
— · —
Mira
I am in so much trouble right now.
I woke up in Percy’s bed, still wearing his jacket, buried in his sheets, and the first thought that formed in my stupid, traitorous brain was: What the hell was I thinking?
No, actually, scratch that. I wasn’t thinking. Not even a little bit. My brain had clocked out somewhere around the third kiss and left my body to run the show, and my body apparently had impulse control issues.
I was supposed to be investigating these men, not making out with one of them in the heat of the moment. I thought I could squeeze information out of Percy and well, technically, I did manage that. Just went a bit overboard with what I ended up getting from him.
God, I’d make such a lousy spy or assassin and get myself killed in the first five minutes of the movie. Also, I guess I can’t chastise the movie slop we watch now.
I kicked the covers off and sat up, pressing my palms into my face.
The sheets still smelled of brown sugar and autumn leaves, and my body wanted to curl back into them and pretend the outside world didn’t exist. But my mind was finally doing what it should have done last night instead of grinding on a tattooed firefighter.
Gold eyes. That was the part I couldn’t explain away with hormones and bad decisions.
Then came the other connecting dots. The impossible strength, bodies that ran too warm. An ancient language that matched nothing in any database. The carved wolf crest, the visions, and my lost memories.
I couldn’t come up with a solid theory. My mind is a mess.
Ugh. Those stupid tattoos. Those stupid, gorgeous, infuriating...
The bedroom door swung open.
Here goes the prime suspect of my current mental breakdown.
Percy walked in humming, chestnut hair damp at the temples from a morning jog. His cheeks were flushed from the cold air outside and those dimples were already out. He turned to me.
“Morning.”
One word. Delivered with the easy confidence of a man who’d watched me come undone in his lap and felt no need to be weird about it.
I grabbed the comforter and yanked it over my face.
Heat flooded my cheeks so fast it burned. Behind the safety of the fabric, I pressed my fingers against my closed eyes and tried to convince myself that hiding under a blanket was a mature and reasonable response to this situation.
“Last night...” I started, muffled. I peeked at him through the gap between my fingers.
Percy pulled the wired earphones from around his neck and sat on the edge of the bed. Close, but not crowding. Giving me room the way he always did. Except now the playfulness had left his face, and what replaced it was quieter. Serious, almost.
“Do you regret it?”
The question landed between us, and the vulnerability in it caught me off guard. He was braced for the answer. Preparing himself for the version where I said yes, and that realization made my chest ache.
I shook my head and lowered my hands. “No.”
Relief crossed his features before he could hide it, and my chest did a traitorous little squeeze because this man, this gorgeous, golden retriever of a man, had genuinely worried I’d take it back.
“But the situation,” I said, sitting up and tugging the jacket tighter around myself. “And, you know, what will...”
“Solomon and Lucian think?” He finished for me.
I nodded slowly, my stomach twisting into a pretzel.
Percy chuckled. Warm, genuine, entirely too relaxed for a conversation about the aftermath of an orgasm with one-third of a household. “Especially when you’re guilty that you’re attracted to them too.”
“Wha… How-” Horror must have hit my face because his grin stretched wider.
“Please.” He shrugged. “We both know it’s not just me.”
I blinked at him. “How can you be so casual about this?”
The laughter faded. His eyes held mine, and for one breathless second I caught a glint of gold bleeding into his hazel irises. There and gone before I could grab it.
“You have your suspicions already, Mira. I’m sure you understand that there is something more between the four of us.”
The words landed in my chest. He said it as if he had been waiting for me to catch up. And he was right. I’d been collecting evidence these days and it was why I was even in his room in the first place.
I opened my mouth but nothing came out.
Percy stood, and just that fast, the heaviness broke. His body language loosened, the grin crept back, and the laid-back energy slid into place.
“Lucian wants to talk. You should head down for breakfast.” He crossed to the bathroom and paused in the doorway, one hand on the frame. “I’m gonna take a quick shower. Don’t stay and watch the show this time.”
Oh, this bastard.
I grabbed the nearest pillow and launched it at his head.
He ducked, laughing, and the bathroom door clicked shut behind him. His muffled laughter leaked through the wood, and despite everything, despite the panic and confusion and the very real possibility that I’d lost my mind, my lips twitched.
Damn him.
I dragged myself out of his bed, finger-combed my hair into submission, splashed water on my face, and rolled my shoulders back until composure took hold. Then I stepped into the hallway before my brain could spiral further.
Morning light filtered through the windows at the far end of the hall. I started down the staircase, one hand on the banister, bare feet quiet on the wood. Every sense was running high, scanning for the other two presences I knew were in this house.
“What are you doing?”
The voice came from behind me.
I spun so hard my foot caught the edge of the step. A sound left my mouth that could generously be called a squeal and more accurately described as the noise a cat makes when you step on its tail. My hand slipped off the banister and gravity made its move.
Lucian’s fingers closed around my wrist.
He pulled me back with one effortless tug and the momentum carried me straight into him. My chest nearly collided with his. His scent flooded my lungs. I looked up and his face was inches from mine.
Storm gray eyes stare at me as his jaw tensed. His gaze dropped to my mouth for a fraction of a second before jerking back up.
My heart slammed against my ribs so hard he probably heard it.
Focus, Mira. For the love of God, focus.
I stepped back. He released me, but his thumb dragged across my pulse point on the way out.
A single stroke that sent electricity racing up my arm and detonating behind my ribs.
My lungs forgot their entire job description and I had to physically stop myself from grabbing his hand and putting it back.
“Why are you coming from there?” I managed, crossing my arms and leaning against the banister. Very casual. Completely unaffected by his presence.
Lucian raised one brow. “I can’t walk around my own cabin?”
“I mean, I thought you were supposed to be down there.”
He didn’t answer. His gaze slowly traveled down my body instead. The jacket hanging off my frame, the hem brushing my thighs. Then his eyes locked on the name stitched.
VALDRIS.
His surname. On me. Covering my body in his name.
Lucian’s jaw tightened and the gray in his eyes darkened until I felt the weight of his attention press against my skin.
I became acutely aware of my bare legs beneath the jacket, the thin satin nightgown underneath, how little fabric separated his gaze from every nerve ending in my body. My skin prickled with heat.
Oh, you would really enjoy that, wouldn’t you, Mira? Be serious.
I shook my head to clear the thought, which made Lucian’s brow furrow at me, confused.
“I left a file in my office,” he said finally. Lower. Rougher than before.
He walked past me toward the stairs. “Let’s go. Solomon is waiting.”
I followed a step behind and my gaze tracked his hands at his sides. His fingers curled into fists as he descended, knuckles pressing white.
He was holding himself back. The realization that he was struggling to keep his hands off me made my stomach flip.
The living room opened up below us. Solomon emerged from the kitchen carrying a plate of toast in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other. He crossed to the coffee table and set both down. His pale silver eyes found mine the moment I stepped off the last stair, tracking me with that quiet focus.
“Morning.” He set a mug of coffee beside the plate.
“Good morning.” The normalcy of it almost made me laugh. Just a regular morning, breakfast with three strangely mysterious men.
I grabbed a piece of toast and dropped into the armchair across from the couch, pulling my legs beneath me. Lucian and Solomon settled onto the couch.
Footsteps hammered down the staircase.
Percy appeared with a towel slung around his neck, rubbing it through damp auburn waves, and dropped onto the couch beside Solomon. Solomon shifted an inch from the spray without changing his expression. Lucian didn’t acknowledge his arrival at all.
Three men on the couch. Three sets of eyes on me.
The sight was absurd. Endearing, in a terrifying way. Enormous, supernaturally gorgeous puppies, waiting for me to throw them a bone.
“We need to talk,” Lucian said.
I tore a corner off my toast and chewed slowly. Stalling, because once this conversation started, there was no going back. “Yeah. We do.”
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “What do you remember?”
I set the toast down and met his eyes. “Not enough. A few visions. Fragments that don’t connect.” My voice came out steady. “But I believe you now… About the memory loss and that we met before.”
The energy in the room changed. Percy’s hand stilled on the towel. Solomon’s posture didn’t shift but his gaze intensified.
“You told me I can ask about anything, right?”
Three nods. Synchronized, instinctive.
God. Puppies. Terrifyingly attractive puppies.
I took a breath. “Do all your eyes turn gold?”
The silence that followed could have swallowed the room whole.
Lucian’s gaze cut sideways. Solomon’s jaw tightened. Both of them turned, with deliberate slowness, toward Percy.