Chapter 31
Xavier
Iwake up slowly. Warm everywhere, heavy-limbed. Done in, in the best way. My legs ache. My hips ache. Even my throat aches, which is rude given Artemis’s mouth never touched it.
Okay, maybe it did. Once or twice. His hand a couple times, too. He has a thing for hand necklaces, and there’s a bruised fingerprint or three on my hip that throbs.
I stretch, and a low sound slips out of me because every muscle in my lower back is doing the hi, remember you got railed last night? thing. I should probably be embarrassed, but I am not.
I blink my eyes open and stare at the ceiling for a second. Soft morning light pours through the curtains. The air smells like clean sheets, and Artemis’s cologne—warm spice and citrus.
I breathe it in for just a beat too long.
I fully admit to being pathetic. But he smells so freaking good, and he’s still right here, still in bed with me.
He’s curled on his side, half the blanket kicked off, hair a disaster, and one hand splayed over my stomach.
His palm is hot, heavy, possessive even in sleep, like he’s subconsciously trying to stake a claim.
His breath skitters over my skin. It’s warm and gentle and even, just like the man who rocked my entire goddamn world a matter of hours ago. Repeatedly.
I think my new favorite thing to do is watch Artemis de la Pena sleep. He’s snuffly, adorable, and the way his hand covers his face is almost childlike.
In a blur of stalkerish staring, I’ve been awake for about thirty minutes, listening to Cinderella snoring softly next to me.
I dropped a couple messages in my sibling group chat, Roman, Sofia, and the twins, Tasha and Kique, have all been pestering me to answer their messages about what our family’s matching Christmas PJ set will be this year.
Tasha threatens mutiny if they choose plaid again; Kique sends a knife emoji. Roman says he’ll wear anything as long as it’s not elf themed. So, I’m absolutely choosing elf themed. What are younger brothers for if not choosing violence?
I look at the slumbering enforcer next to me. It’s common knowledge that his youngest brother gets everyone on the team matching Christmas wear. It started out as Christmas PJs, but has since grown into ugly sweaters, and last year he is rumoured to have given them all socks as well.
Ares de la Pena is a Christmas ho. Speak of the Cupid devil, his name lights up my screen with a question that makes my stomach sink.
Ares: Is my brother with you?
To buy time, I act coy.
Xavier: Which one?
I contemplate waking Arte, but he’s sleeping so soundly, and looked so fucking tired last night, that I can’t bring myself to do it.
Ares: The one you’re fucking.
My anxiety ratchets up a couple notches. Fuck. Shit. Is he taking a shot in the dark? Or does he know? I briefly consider faking my own death to avoid answering him.
He was responsible for getting us together, that much is definitely true.
When I asked for his brother’s number for the hook-up, he was only too gleeful to oblige, but I don’t know what he knows.
And I don’t want to get on Artemis’s shit list when I’ve just managed to get myself on his nice list. At least, I’m pretty sure I’m on the nice list.
Xavier: I’m honestly not sure what I’m supposed to say here.
Ares: Stop overthinking it. It’s just between you and me; I’m not posting it all over socials. I just need to know where he is since he didn’t come home, and he missed two meetings this morning already.
It’s barely 8AM, and he’s missed not one but two meetings already? This man works way too hard.
Xavier: I have him. Do you need me to wake him?
There’s a long pause, dots appear, disappear, and reappear again.
Ares: Captain Early Riser’s still asleep? Wonders never cease. Don’t wake him. I’ll call his assistant and have her take care of it.
Xavier: He works way too hard.
Ares: Don’t tell me that, nag him. Though this morning is work for one of the non-profits he founded.
Xavier: Of course it is. Could he be any more perfect?
Ares: Isn’t that the kicker? He’s always believed he’s only valuable if he’s perfect. Would do him the world of good to be roughed up a little.
Ares: Just saying.
It feels like I’m crossing a line, talking about my… lover? That feels weird to say… With his brother, but something tells me this conversation is important. And the fact he’s open to having it with me shows me just how much he trusts me with his brother too.
Something blooms in my chest, something that feels a lot like pride. Being Roman Martinez’s brother currently has nothing to do with the trust Ares is putting in me on behalf of his brother, and that… well, that feels fucking awesome.
Ares: Silverpaw Sanctuary. He has a thing for the great outdoors, just like his namesake.
Ares: Not for nothing but the charity has a fundraiser thing coming up sometime in the new year.
I pull up a browser and search for Silverpaw Sanctuary. His name and picture are nowhere to be seen, but for a tiny footnote on the ‘About Us’ page. That’s my Artemis, always being a fucking hero from the shadows.
The Silverpaw Sanctuary is a healing ranch and nature reserve for trafficking survivors, and survivors of sexual abuse and domestic violence. It’s a safe place for mothers with children needing temporary relocation.
The more I read the tighter my throat gets. Equine therapy, art therapy, archery, because of course there’s archery, even I know that much about Artemis from mythology, hiking… its logo even has a little bit of my very own black bear, Beartemis.
Of course he built something like this. Of course he pours his heart into strangers but won’t let anyone return the favor.
Ares: Not sure if you’ve looked her up or not yet, but Artemis the goddess had a thing for nature. Seems it’s something my brother inherited.
Ares: Rumor has it, my big brother bought himself a new house up in Wisconsin. Ranch style, with a wraparound porch, in the burbs. With a couple dozen acres of protected forest attached to the property.
My chest constricts. I’ve been here twice and never really taken in my surroundings. It’s about twenty minutes from town but given that we’re in Wisconsin and woods are standard ‘comes with the house’ around here… it makes sense. And sends a shot of lust straight to my crotch.
If Artemis’s hand wasn’t still on me, I’d get up and look out the window. Did he really buy a house with some forest attached to chase someone through the trees?
Not someone.
Me.
To chase me through the woods.
He’s not seeing anyone else in Wisconsin, right? Right? Shit. My hands shake so hard I struggle not to wake him and demand answers. What if he is? Do I have enough of a claim on him for that to mean something?
He bought his own forest, twenty minutes from the hockey house. That’s definitely giving maximum, feral millionaire stalker making-a-claim energy.
My brain flashes a National Geographic special titled, ‘Gay Hockey Player Hunted In His Natural Habitat.’
My pulse kicks. Hard. My dick twitches like it heard its mating call. I’m suddenly sweating. Why am I sweating? Oh right—because he bought a forest to ruin me in. His eyes stay closed, voice gravel-deep from sleep. “Stop thinking so loud.”
I freeze. “Was I—?”
He makes a low noise, somewhere between a chuckle and a groan. “Your heartbeat woke me up.”
Liar. Ridiculously charming, adorably cute when he wakes up, and also devastatingly handsome liar.
I try to roll away—bad idea because everything inside me shifts, and I wince. Not because it hurts, because it’s a reminder of everything he did to me, everything I let happen, everything I wanted.
Artemis’s hand slides from my stomach to my hip, steadying me like he’s been touching me for years. “Easy.”
I swallow. “I’m fine.”
He hums. It’s a warm, deep, lazy sound that slides down my spine. “You’re sore. And freaking out.”
“I’m not—”
He raises a brow without opening his eyes.
“Okay maybe a little. Sore and freaking out.”
A smile curves his lips, it’s slow and sinful.
“And you’re proud of yourself.”
“Obviously.” His fingers trace my hipbone like he’s petting a nervous creature.
He finally opens his eyes. He’s still half-asleep, softened at the edges, but locked on me like I’m the only thing he wants to see.
It does terrible, wonderful things to my chest. And my heart threatens to make a bid for freedom right out of my ribcage.
“Good morning, Duende.” His voice is a caress, it’s a replay of every filthy thing he whispered in my ear last night. It sends waves of goosebumps over my skin.
My cheeks burn. “Morning.”
There’s a beat of silence, then his thumb sweeps my lower lip, he’s slow and deliberate, like he’s remembering how it felt to kiss me.
My body answers first—heat curling low. My mind answers second—panic, confusion, longing all tumbled together.
But my heart? My traitorous, inconvenient bastard of a giant heart crammed into the bone-cage of my ribs?
It whispers yes, do it, run toward him, grab the giant ice prince with both hands and never let him go.
He sees it. I know he does. His brows pull together in that soft way he gets when he’s feeling something he doesn’t want to name out loud.
“Last night…”
He shakes his head once. “Don’t ruin it.”
I go still.
He rolls closer, his forehead brushing mine. “Don’t explain it away. Don’t pretend it wasn’t real.” His voice lowers. “Let yourself have this. Even if it’s just this morning.”
Said the pot to the kettle. My throat tightens so fast it hurts. I shut my eyes, breathing, trying not to dissolve into a puddle.
His hand finds my jaw, thumb brushing my cheek. “I’m not asking for forever, Artemis. Just… honesty.”
Another heavy beat stretches between us.
“I wanted you.” His voice doesn’t waver. “I still want you.”
My breath catches. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He presses a soft kiss under my eye, featherlight and barely there. Then another. And another. Like he’s mapping my face with the devotion he wants to give me.
“Just me, right?” The desperate vulnerability in my cracking voice is so fucking embarrassing. I hold my breath like the answer might set me on fire. Or extinguish it. I’m not sure which I’m hoping for.
He brushes the side of my nose with his. “The exclusivity talk? So early in the morning?”
My face is hot, but I nod. “I don’t like the idea of you buying this place to spend time with someone else.” There. I said it out loud. No fear. Except all the fear making my body tremble. And the nausea welling in my stomach. I need him to say it’s just me more than I need my next inhale.
He doesn’t even try to hide it. “It has good rental potential. It’s a good investment.”
My heart sinks.
“But I’d be lying if I didn’t say I bought it with you in mind. Somewhere for us to spend quiet time.”
Relief floods my veins, and I manage a shaky exhale. “Somewhere with its own woods for you to chase your prey.”
He grunts. “Don’t tempt me, Duende.”
When he reaches my mouth with his, he hovers. He’s not pushing, not claiming, he’s just waiting. I love how much he loves consent.
“I… uh.” I swallow. “I hope it’s okay, but Ares knows we’re.” I clear my throat. “Together. Here. Now.” I brace for a storm that doesn’t come.
His brow lifts.
“He texted to ask if I knew where you were. And I didn’t want to lie to your brother and have him send out the national guard.” My eyes widen. They probably could do that. They have connections. “Or worse, they all come looking for you.” It’s happened before, and it’ll happen again.
“It’s okay. I must be late for something if Ares is chasing me down. You took it out of me.” His lazy smile is a drug I want to be addicted to. I might already be. I kiss him first.
He makes the softest sound, hungry in a way that feels like it has nothing to do with sex or anything physical and everything to do with me. My heart flexes, and when we pull apart, I’m breathless.
“I want you again.” His words are murmured softly against my forehead.
My stomach flips. “Breakfast first,” I manage, though part of me most definitely wants him again. A really hard part.
“I normally have eggs and spinach.”
I poke his side. “I guess it sucks to be you because I want bacon. And toast.” I’m not surviving this morning without carbs and caffeine.
He laughs, it’s warm and real. “Deal.”
It’s domestic, natural, and easy. And hopefully it lasts beyond the magical walls of this house on the edge of civilization. On my way to the kitchen to make breakfast, I heave out a satisfied sigh. God, please let this be the beginning.