Chapter 6 Behind the Woodshed
Chapter Six
Behind the Woodshed
— Grayson —
The world swims into focus slowly, the edges of my vision blurred, like a memory resurfacing from a deep well. But there’s warmth here, too—a comforting weight pressed against my side, anchoring me to the present.
I blink, my eyes adjusting to the dim light filtering through the heavy curtains. And then I see her. My thrice-bonded— my psyche —my mate. Her head rests on my chest, her breath teasing my skin in soft, rhythmic puffs. She’s curled into me, her body fitting perfectly against mine.
A sting rises behind my eyes in the wake of a surge of profound relief. It’s her. My beautiful girl, born of wild magic, woven into my fate as if Clotho herself, with the threads of Ananke , had set her there with deliberate, unshakable purpose.
I inhale deeply, letting her scent wash over me. It’s a symphony of everything I’ve missed—sunshine and salt air. Beneath the scent marks of her shifters, her own unique fragrance lingers—a delicate blend of honey and brined olives.
A smile tugs at my lips. Even in this half-awake state, one thing is certain: I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
Sunday stirs beside me, blinking sleepily before stretching, her muscles protesting the long stillness. “That was the best nap I’ve had in ages.”
“Tell me something,” I murmur, my voice still thick with the haze of death.
Her fingers trace lazy patterns on my chest. “What do you want to know?”
“Anything. What did you do today?”
“Well,” she begins, her voice teasing, “I defended your ass from an impetuous jaguar. It was quite the spectacle, I must say.” She pauses, a sly grin spreading across her face. “And then, after that excitement, we had a rather important meeting. We decided who’s going to rule over the WRE.”
I stiffen a little at that, but she doesn’t pause, continuing to pet my chest absently. “And then we found about a hundred rags soaked with turpentine hidden around the castle. I do believe Roxana was ready to torch the place if things didn’t go her way.”
A cold anger settles over me, the purge of her court still a fresh wound. So senseless, these fits of temper, so unnecessarily destructive. “I assume they were removed and disposed of properly?”
She nods, her hair tickling my skin. “Mishka was a big help. He sniffed out the ones hidden in the eaves. The sun could have set them off.” She pauses, a hint of pride in her voice. “He’s got an even better nose than his daddy.”
“And he is Ben’s, correct?” I ask, trying to keep my tone casual.
She laughs—a sound as sweet as spring rain. I’m drunk on her. If she were anyone else, it would be concerning. “Yup. He was hiding behind a furnace in Volga, eating scraps and being raised by vampires. So, get ready to become his new favorite person.”
“He came to me when I was… briefly lucid, in Roxana’s chambers. Isn’t he rather young to be shifting?”
Her sigh is heavy, the light in her eyes dimming. “He’s eight, but he looks younger—malnutrition will do that. And, he’s been through some trauma. He started shifting to escape the wolfpack that took him in.”
Her voice trails off, and I reach for her hand, squeezing it gently. “We’ll take care of him,” I promise.
Her smile is blinding. “That’s part of what we need to figure out. He needs to go to Greenbriar. Daddy and Cady have everything ready for him, and the girls can’t wait to meet him.”
“Who is Cady? I thought your stepmother was JoAnne.” My monster helpfully provides an image of her stumbling in her heels.
She exhales a heavy breath. “I have so much to tell you. And I will… just as soon as you get up. Do you need to eat?”
The offer stirs my dark passenger, pushing against my skin, teasing me with visions of a long, indulgent feeding. I dismiss them, forcing my focus back. I need to stop acting like a newborn, all cock and fangs. “Perhaps later? I took quite a bit last night.”
“Well, I feel great, and Shadow’s around here too, if you prefer them.”
I open my mouth to protest, but she cuts me off. “Oh! I forgot to tell you. When they came through the bond to Hibernia…”
“When they what?” I sit up, curiosity igniting. “I assumed they fled the castle through the shadows.”
She pauses, and I feel her hesitation through our newly strengthened bond. She doesn’t want to talk about this. “I guess Roxana was hurting them,” she says, her voice dropping as if speaking quietly could shield Xavier from the reality of their ordeal.
Cold dread knots my stomach, the assault of my own memories crashing in—stumbling through those hallways, wracked with the same pain, and then, the moment they disappeared from the bond. I inhale deeply, grounding myself in the jaguar’s scent still lingering on her shoulders.
Then, I lower myself back down, letting her drape across me once more. We lie there, clinging to the comfort of touch, as if holding each other might keep the darkness at bay.
Her fingers trace the faint scars on my chest—the last traces of a boyhood accident. “We don’t know exactly what happened, but near as we can tell, they walked across the blood bond that you and I share,” she says, marching her fingers across my skin before pausing. “And then I was able to pull them through… somehow.” Her voice trails off, lost for a moment. But then she finds her way back to me. “So, they were sort of reborn… and without the addiction to venom.”
“So, Xavier is cured?” I hear the disbelief in my voice, the skepticism, but she nods. I let that sink in, trying to wrap my mind around it. Then, after a moment of hesitation, I ask the next impossible thing. “And now… you and Ben… now, we have a child?”
Her pride flares across our bond like a Roman candle. “Exactly. I knew you’d understand.”
I’m lying down, but I still feel the need to brace myself. “Have you heard from my chyld or your brother?”
“In a sense, yes.” Her voice holds a hint of hesitation. “Do you remember Bane Sandoval?”
I think, The handsome incubus with the golden tongue? But what I say is, “My lawyer?”
“Well, yes, but also scion of his house… blah blah blah.”
“Yes, I’m aware he’s a demon, Sunday.”
She rolls her eyes. “Well, he’s also Corvus’—I mean, Virgil’s—brother, and they’ve been working with the demon underground. Seems like Vivien and Colton are fine. They’ve just been helping.”
I sit up, a frown creasing my brow. “My chyld is helping foment a demon rebellion?” She nods, but her eyes avoid mine, focused instead on examining her fingernails. I continue, “And Roxana is now in Dae, I take it?”
She exhales, a heavy sigh. “I sent a message to Bane today, told him to track them down and get their asses home ASAP. He’s got someone who can make a cross-realm portal without the Council catching on.” She waves her hands in a decent imitation of a demon casting, leaving me to wonder how many of those I’ve bankrolled in the past few weeks. “So, hopefully, we’ll see them soon.”
“You should also know they may be, um… involved. I’m sorry in advance if any part of Colton has rubbed off on Vivien… or in her.” She grimaces at her own terrible joke.
If Colton Prescott smells as good as the rest of his family and possesses even a tenth of Sunday’s charm, my chyld never stood a chance. “Knowing Vivien, I’ll be the one apologizing.”
Her smile is faint, her thoughts already moving to the next subject.
“So, I wasn’t sure how vampires honor their… well, finally dead, but I had your Maker’s ashes collected. I was thinkin’, since your siblings are here, maybe we could have a ceremony for him.”
I pull her closer, pressing a kiss to her head. “That was very thoughtful. Thank you.”
“Tomas went down and retrieved them, so make sure you thank him, too.” I must tense up, because she leans back to meet my eyes.
“Tomas has been incredible. He’s looked after your interests and kept us all safe.” She pauses, waiting for a reaction. When I give her none, she nods. “And if you act like a jerk to him, I’ll be the one dragging your ancient ass behind the woodshed.”
“So violent.” I pull her across my body, positioning her so I can kiss her. “And so pretty.” Another kiss . “Do you think you’ll still have time for me with all these admirers?”
“I don’t know. Think you can make it worth my while?”
“I can certainly try.”
My fingertips trace a slow path along her thigh, the softness of her skin a tantalizing contrast to the tension building beneath it. She shivers, and her scent blooms—heady and nearly irresistible. My fangs ache with the need to taste her.
Leaning in, I catch her earlobe between my teeth, nibbling gently before trailing kisses down her neck. Her skin is warm and silken, a delight to all my senses.
Her body arches into mine, a soft moan escaping her. The pulse beneath her skin flutters—it’s an irresistible invitation. Desire surges through me, relentless now. I surrender to it, piercing her flesh with my fangs. Her gasp fuels the fire in my veins as I drink, savoring the taste of her, the intimacy of this moment with my bonded.
The swish of curtains being pulled aside interrupts us before I can push it any further.
“Oh no,” Xavier says, a teasing lilt in their voice. “You’re on Sunday restriction.”
Their gaze is laser-focused, but not on me. Their nostrils flare as they track Sunday’s every move. A second later, Ben materializes behind them, his glare directed firmly at me. Before the tension can mount, Tomas appears, grabs them both by the elbows, and drags them away, muttering, “How did ‘leave them be’ translate to ‘be sure to bother them’?”
The curtains fall back into place, though not perfectly, leaving a sliver of light that paints Sunday’s fair skin with a soft pink glow. It’s mesmerizing—the delicate pulse of blood beneath her skin, the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the goosebumps scattered across her flesh.
She snaps her fingers. I jump, startled. Laughter bubbles from her lips, bright and unrestrained.
“Did I lose you?”
I sigh, piercing my fingertip to heal the bite mark. Xavier’s words echo in my mind. “Tell me why I’m on restriction, Lover.”
“Oh, they were just teasing. We had a little incident this morning.”
“An incident?”
“Mhm. The sunrise caught us off guard, and… well, I needed a bit of help. Nothing to worry about.”
I try to reconstruct it in my head. I remember the feel of her around me, and I’m instantly hard again. I was feeding, pushing her from peak to sublime peak, and then—
“Did I die while…” I search for the right words, but our Little Cat fills in the blanks like the nosiest wizard behind the curtain.
“With multiple parts of you buried inside her? Why yes, you did.”
“Shadow, stop it. You’re making it sound worse than it was.”
I’m horrified. “You were trapped under my corpse? For how long?”
She rolls her eyes. “I was stuck under you while you were… not animated, and it was maybe ten minutes, max. I called Shadow through our bond. Not a big deal. Don’t let them guilt you.”
She dismisses my worry with a pat on my chest and a kiss on my cheek. “We’ve got bigger fish to fry tonight, and I could use some food, too.” She slips through the curtains.
Almost immediately, my favorite Little Cat replaces her, appearing on top of me, clad in jeans and a brightly patterned shirt.
“Hello, Rucio. Did you miss me?”
They straddle my chest, pressing my head back against the pillow, then slide down my body, trapping my cock between us. I’m hard and still hungry after my abbreviated breakfast, but they don’t seem to mind. My monster obliges, sending a relentless stream of images—fucking the little jaguar, letting them claim us again.
“I did.”
Before I can think past the need, I’ve rolled them beneath me and claimed their mouth. The kiss stretches long and deep, a connection I can’t bring myself to break. I pull back, panting. “May I?”
I drag my tongue along their neck and suck, hard enough to leave a bruise. They tilt their head in invitation. I pause to look at them—eyes closed, ink-dark lashes casting shadows against their cheeks. Their tongue darts out to soothe their swollen bottom lip, still tingling from my kiss. My mark stands out starkly against their sun-warmed skin, reassuring us of our claim. I bury my nose in their glossy black curls, now grown long. They’ve been in the sun again, and Gods, they smell good.
I master my bloodlust long enough to kiss them again, slower this time. Rolling them to their side, I pop the buttons of their jeans, savoring each little groan the button-fly earns me. Their tongue teases my fangs until they draw blood. The taste rushes in, their essence blooming through me.
They’re hard, too, pressing into my palm with only silky boxers between us. I slide my hand beneath the waistband, gripping them firmly—maybe too roughly. But their scent, their blood, and the decadence of Sunday still lingering on us both have my control fraying. They moan, and my monster stirs—I’m fucking purring, like a damn shifter.
Their eyes pop open, green and gold, pupils blown wide. I hold their gaze and give a few measured pumps, reacquainting myself with the pressure and rhythm they crave. My mouth finds their neck again, tentative licks building the tension. I’m edging us both, feeling them press against me, silently begging for my bite and release.
I press my fangs to their skin, delaying the inevitable. Need coils tighter inside me as my hand strokes them—pre-cum slicks my fingers, each whine and gush affirming their omega designation and nearly pushing me to the edge of control.
And then I know it’s time. I temper my venom, resisting the urge to launch them into the stratosphere. Their well-being outweighs my ego.
Sunday’s laughter rings from the suite beyond, followed by Tomas’ chiding tone, and then her laughter again—fuller, unmistakably affectionate.
As Xavier’s breath stutters, they explode across my fist, their body shuddering beneath me. At that exact moment, I sink my fangs deep and swallow. My monster purrs with glee, smoke curling from my fingertips as if he, too, wants to draw closer, to check on our jaguar’s wellbeing for himself.
I feed, luxuriating in Xavier’s submission, their taste, their scent. But even in this bliss, my thoughts betray me. A shadow creeps in—the wolf. No matter how hard I try, I can’t dismiss him completely.