Chapter 16 Wren
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
WREN
The low whisper of voices brings me out of a deep sleep. The first thing I notice is how comfortable I feel, and it takes me a few seconds to remember where I am. I blink my eyes open and see a tattoo-covered chest. Jagger.
I feel my body heat and my heart skip a beat at being this close to him, touching so much of his bare skin.
My head’s resting on his shoulder, and my leg is wrapped around his like a snake. I must have moved in the night and cuddled up to him. I hope he doesn’t mind.
I tilt my head up until my eyes meet his beautiful blue ones. His arm around me tightens in a small squeeze while his other hand curls over my thigh, a silent confirmation that he’s more than okay with this.
Something behind me moves, and I realize Sly is wrapped around my back, his face pressed to the back of my neck.
His large hand is resting against my bare stomach, somehow having worked its way under my long T-shirt, and as I wiggle a little to get closer, something hard presses against my lower back.
“Sly,” I whisper before letting out a huge yawn.
“Hmm?” he mumbles into my hair.
“Is that a knife poking me in the back?”
I hear a snort from the other bed, then suddenly, Sly is up and practically sprinting to the bathroom, mumbling, “Need to use the facilities.”
Pete and Dex laugh, and I look up to Jagger in confusion.
“I don’t understand the joke,” I whisper. He just shakes his head and presses mine back down to lay against him, clearly not done with the cuddle.
Now that I’m awake, I start to appreciate all the tattoos he has decorating his skin. It’s the first time I’ve seen him without a shirt on. There’s a compass over his left pec with some swirls of water surrounding it.
“Is this from your time as a marine?” He nods as I trace the design with my fingers.
Jagger often wrote about his time as a Marine in his letters.
I knew he enlisted when he was eighteen and stayed for seventeen years.
Now he’s thirty-nine, making him the oldest out of all of us.
Is a thirteen-year age gap too much? I wasn’t even sure what this was between us, but as I try to memorize his tattoo, my mind flashes back to one of his more memorable letters.
My tiny flame,
Thank you for your letter. Once again, hearing from you has brought light to my darkness.
You asked me why I left the Marines. I’ll warn you, it’s not a good story. The memories from my time enlisted fill my nightmares. I much prefer when my dreams are filled with you, instead.
It started when we got called into a small town overseas. Insurgents had swept through the night before and left half the place burning. The whole town was strangely silent at first as we walked through the smoke-filled streets.
The people came out slowly, like ghosts.
Kids covered in dirt, barefoot, women holding them tight.
Every door was broken, every man we saw looked hollowed out.
I remember one boy standing tall in front of his mother.
He was maybe ten years old, clutching a stick like it was a rifle.
His hands were shaking so hard he couldn’t hold it steady.
I felt an uncontrollable guilt at that moment. One that told me this ten-year-old boy had more honor than I did. Here he was, protecting his mother with nothing but a stick while I’d failed mine.
That night, I knew I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life patching holes in places that weren’t mine. I wanted to come home. To take what I’d learned and use it where it mattered most by cleaning up my old neighborhood.
That’s why I carry a compass on my skin. It reminds me where I’ve been, and what I’m fighting for.
When I returned, Jason didn’t feel like a fitting name anymore. I felt like I needed a name with sharper edges, that’s how I came to be called Jagger. A new name for a new man. I worked on cleaning up my old neighborhood for four years before I was caught, as you already know.
My tiny flame, what I wouldn’t give to get out of here and hold you just once. To steal you away from your pretty box and show you everything this world has to offer.
I wonder if we weren’t trapped in our cages, where we’d enjoy spending time together. A beach where we could watch the waves lap at the shore? A park where we could watch birds flying freely and children playing. Or an overlook somewhere, staring down at a forest of green?
Just promise me something. If you ever hear of a man called Conte Noir, you run the other way. Stay far away from him.
I wish I could be there with you, to wrap you in my arms and keep you safe.
Take care, tiny flame.
Yours always,
Jagger
“Yours always,” I whisper, remembering the way he signed off most of his letters. A finger tilts my chin up so I’m looking at him as his brow furrows in question.
“That’s how you signed off your letters—yours always,” I say softly before licking my lips with an unspoken question on the tip of my tongue. His eyes soften, and he nods. “Did you mean it?” I whisper, even quieter this time, afraid to ask but wanting to know the answer.
He nods as he grips my hand and places my palm on his chest, over his heart. He doesn’t need to say anything; I can see the way he feels about me shining through his eyes.
“That’s so romantic,” I say with a sigh.
“Fucking hell, he didn’t even read the book!” Dex curses, making me pull away from Jagger and turn to see him standing between the beds, scowling down at Jagger.
“What book—” I cut myself off, my mind going blank when I get my first good look at him.
The only thing he’s wearing is a pair of tight boxers that don’t do a good job of hiding his large bulge.
Dios mio! He’s… HUGE.
My eyes widen as they move to his tree-trunk thighs, ripped with muscles. I swallow the lump in my throat as my eyes travel up and up.
He’s definitely the biggest of all of them; his shoulders are as broad as the door frame, and he’s covered in tattoos from his neck to his boxers.
Beautiful swirls of color cover his skin.
His arms are also fully colored, making him look like a real work of art.
Somehow, he looks gorgeous and delicious. Is that weird?
“I’d give anything to know what you’re thinking right now,” Dex says in a much calmer tone. My eyes flick up to his, and I see amusement and what I think is heat shining back at me.
Remembering that I’m supposed to be trying to share my thoughts more and stop keeping everything internal, I admit, “I was wondering what you taste like.” Licking my lips, I add, “Is that normal?” My eyes skate over his body again. The bulge in his pants moves, and a small whimper escapes me.
He starts to take a step toward me, his hand raising to reach for me, but he’s interrupted. “Showers free, Dex,” Sly says as he moves around the bed with just a towel slung around his waist.
“Party pooper,” Dex mumbles. He looks back at me and gives me a wink before hurrying off to the bathroom.
My attention immediately shifts to Sly. I’d seen his chest last night when I slept on it, but seeing him standing here now, in nothing but a towel…
It does things to me I don’t understand.
In fact, I’ve been feeling that low clench of attraction all morning, and it was only getting worse the more skin I saw.
Dex might have been the tallest, but Sly was only an inch behind him.
There’s a knock at the door, making me jump. Jagger drags me into his lap and pulls the cover up to my chin, practically hiding me from view as a fully dressed Pete moves to answer it.
After checking the peephole, he waits a few seconds, then opens the door and grabs two bags that’ve been left on the doorstep.
“Breakfast has arrived!” he exclaims happily as he holds up the bags and brings them to the desk. Jagger drops the blanket and grabs my waist, easily lifting me off the side of the bed.
“Thank you,” I say, squeezing his hand before taking a second to appreciate his bare chest again.
“You already ordered breakfast?” I ask as I move to see what Pete’s pulling out of the bags.
“Yep, as soon as I woke up. Dex and I picked a bunch of stuff, thought you could pick some new favorites.”
“Is there oatmeal?” I ask, wrinkling my nose.
“Nope, no oatmeal or yogurt. Take a look.” He starts to open the containers, and I see so many choices that it’s hard to stop myself from drooling. “Pick what you want, maybe a bit of each?” he asks, and I glance up at him.
He’s looking down at me, holding a plate as if waiting to hear what I want. Realization hits. He did all of this for me. He just found out I’ve never been allowed to have nice foods, and he’s already trying to fix it, to help me try everything, and hopefully find myself a little along the way.
My stomach tightens again, and I place my hand on my lower abdomen as I continue to stare into his gorgeous green eyes. He looks down at where I’m holding myself, and his brows pinch. “What’s wrong? Do you have a stomachache?”
“No, I-It’s the other thing,” I tell him, whispering the last part.
His frown deepens, then his eyebrows raise in surprise, and a huge grin crosses his face. “Now I know food is the way to your heart, I’m going to be constantly feeding you.”
I laugh and drop my hand, shaking my head. “It’s not the food specifically. It’s you.”
His eyes soften, and he pulls me into a hug. His lips brush the top of my head. “This is literally the least I can do for you, angel. Now,” he says, pulling back and holding the plate out. “I’m just going to put a bit of everything on it, unless you tell me there’s anything you don’t want.”
I nod and watch as my kind jokester fills my plate with pancakes, waffles, sausages, scrambled eggs, and hashbrowns. I take it over to eat on the bed as a now fully dressed Sly brings over three coffee cups and sits on the other bed, facing me.
“I’ve got three different coffees here for you to try. One’s black, one has a little cream and sugar, the last has lots.”
“Is one of them yours?”