Chapter 12 The Present
Iwake to a world padded in velvet.
An actual, smothering, marshmallowy softness wraps around me. It’s warm and plush and gentle, which is deeply suspicious because nothing in my life lately has been allowed to qualify as gentle.
There is no gnawing emptiness in my ribs.
No simmering resentment curled behind my teeth.
No needle-sharp pain in my shoulder.
Just… warmth.
Cozy.
Safe.
Soft.
Three adjectives my body should reject on contact, and yet here they are, purring through my nervous system.
A blanket covers me: thick, squishy, and aggressively lavender-scented. The mattress beneath might as well be clouds spun from angel tears. My muscles have liquefied into sedated bliss and now refuse to re-enlist with the rest of my spine.
My head is heavy. My limbs won’t move. I feel great.
Still, my survival instinct whispers that luxury is always the prelude to disaster, so I force my eyes open before I start believing the universe is capable of being kind to me.
The first thing I see is Talon.
He’s on the floor, sprawled on his back with one hand crooked under his head and the other resting over his stomach, chest rising and falling in slow, even breaths. His hair is damp, curling against his forehead, and his mouth is parted just enough to make him look younger than he has any right to.
A ginger beast, this man.
Next to him, Nathaniel sleeps with all the poise of a gothic statue. He’s on his side, one arm tucked beneath his head, the other draped loosely toward Talon. His piercings catch the lamplight. His lashes brush his cheeks. He looks almost… gentle like this.
Cassian’s absence means he’s probably on watch outside.
It’s… not bad. No disaster in sight.
For a few seconds, I just breathe, soaking it all in.
The hush. The warmth. The belonging. My body aches in the aftermath of what we did in the showers last night.
Every muscle is humming, and each nerve is overstretched.
But it’s a good ache. The kind that makes me want to close my eyes again and drift back under.
And maybe I would… if not for the crows.
The memory cuts sharp, like claws on glass: the sound of wings pressing against the windows, shadows layered thick in the trees. Pain’s words echo, low and precise, like he’s whispering in my ear.
They’re predators. If you look weak, they’ll push.
My stomach lurches. I shift under the blankets, forcing myself upright even as every part of me protests. The lamp’s glow swims; my vision tilts. But I manage.
Because suddenly, all I can think is—
Why did the guys just let me sleep?
Nathaniel stirs beside me, lashes fluttering as he blinks awake. His mismatched eyes find me instantly, sharp even through the haze of sleep.
“Skye?” His voice is low, rough-edged. He pushes up on an elbow. “What’s wrong?”
“Why… um. What time is it?” I ask.
Talon groans at the sound, rolling onto his side.
“Who cares, baby? We’re off duty for once.”
Off duty.
Which part of anything about us—about me—has ever been off duty?
My throat tightens. I shake my head, clutching the blanket until my knuckles ache. The comfort from before is gone, burned away by panic. It leaves a cold hollow in its wake. I can’t afford softness. Not now. Not when the shitshow out there is still alive and present.
We agreed to indulge, yes. To take a breath. To grab something resembling humanity while we still can. Have fun.
But rest is a privilege I don’t get anymore. Not when Death is already counting down a clock I can’t see.
“No,” I whisper. “You should’ve woken me. The crows… Pain… Death told me I don’t have time to just…” My throat closes around the rest of the sentence. “To rest. We need to do something.”
“Hey, easy.” Nathaniel sits up fully now, hair a curtain around his face. “You passed out. You didn’t fall asleep, you dropped. You needed to take a break.”
The laugh that tries to escape me is jagged and humorless. I did expect this from Talon. He never pretends to prioritize anything over pleasure. I could even picture Cassian forcing me to rest just so he could stand between me and the problem out of sheer stubbornness.
But Nathaniel?
Nathaniel is supposed to understand. To operate with me.
“You don’t get it,” I say. “I can’t just lie here and nap through danger like some delicate idiot. If the crows are circling like that, it means something. Something is wrong, and sitting still is the opposite of fixing it. We need to figure out what it is. We need to—”
And then time folds.
Nathaniel pulls, and I find myself falling onto him before I can finish the sentence. His lap swallows my weight, chest steady beneath me, and his arms come around me in this infuriatingly effortless cage of warmth and restraint.
“Shh,” he murmurs, voice liquid calm. “It’s all good.”
My cheek ends up against his neck, where his scent hits me like a drug. I am physically pinned in softness, which is somehow worse than being overpowered by force. At least force I can snarl at.
This?
This feels like being handled.
Who the hell is this man, and what has he done with the Nathaniel I know?
I push against his chest, try to sit up, and fail miserably.
The best I manage is twisting enough to glare at Talon sprawled just a few feet away.
He’s half-sitting, hair sticking in every direction like he wrestled lightning in his sleep.
He shouldn’t look this good ruined, but there he is, unfairly pretty and smirking like he owns the morning.
“Skye,” he drawls, voice low enough to purr. “The birds aren’t getting through these walls. Nathaniel checked three times. And Cassian’s outside with a gun and about six fresh reasons to commit homicide. You think we’re letting anything touch you while you drool on your pillow?”
Heat floods my face.
“I don’t drool,” I mutter.
Talon barks a laugh, dragging a hand through his wrecked copper hair. “Sure you don’t. At least not while you’re sleeping. During or after choking on a cock? Whole different story.”
“Talon!” I yelp.
Nathaniel’s chest shakes under me like he’s suppressing a laugh. His hand draws idle circles down my spine. One slow circle, then another. It does something to me.
“If you act shy,” Nathaniel murmurs, “he’ll only get worse.”
He’s right. Talon’s grin spreads wide.
“What’s the blush for, baby? You do salivate a lot with a cock in your mouth. It was dripping when Cassian pumped your little throat last night.”
I suck in a breath. The memory flashes through me so vividly I can almost taste Cassian again.
He hadn’t given me mercy.
He’d just taken and taken and taken—
and gods help me, the thought makes my pussy throb.
“Don’t change the subject,” I whisper, though it comes out thin, half a breath.
Nathaniel’s thumb slides higher along my spine, then lower, to cup my ass.
My body betrays me instantly. It doesn’t want duty or reason. It wants warmth. It wants them.
“Oh, but how can I not,” Talon drawls, turning toward us, “when all I see is your pretty body getting fucked sideways every time I close my eyes?” He’s positioned to see everything now. Me, my ass, Nathaniel’s hand gripping tight. “So pretty.”
I should shove them both away. I should think about Death, the crows outside. But Nathaniel’s arms hold me too well, and when Talon’s hand lands on my thigh, every protest dies.
“I… just woke up,” I manage.
“Yes, please,” Talon says.
“Talon…” My voice trembles.
“Come on, I know you want it,” he coaxes. “It felt good yesterday, didn’t it?”
I inhale. Nathaniel smells like soap, skin, and that faint bite of disinfectant that never quite leaves him, no matter how hard he scrubs.
“Skye,” Talon says again, softer now. When I glance over, he’s not grinning. “We can keep it gentle this time.”
“Mhm. He’s right,” Nathaniel adds. “Soft. So you don’t hurt too much, yeah?”
It’s like they’ve started sharing a brain. They’re following two halves of the same thought, moving in sync without a word.
“We’ll keep you,” Nathaniel murmurs, “right here.” His thumb draws lazy circles at the base of my neck, gliding lower across my collarbone to the tender notch of my throat. Talon’s knuckles trace my thigh.
“We’ll just slip your panties to the side and fuck you a little, hm?” Talon murmurs.
I huff, but the sound turns breathless.
“There’s nothing you two do gently,” I say. “You don’t even know how.”
But who am I kidding? I want this so badly I’m surprised I’m not foaming at the mouth. Yesterday had been mind-blowing. Ensorcelled. Like they’d used one of their creepy leather-bound spells and turned me into a succubus.
Sensuality so overwhelming it had to be dark magic.
And now I’m teetering on that edge again.
I hate it. I love it. I hate that I love it. But gods, I do.
“Turn over,” Nathaniel murmurs. “Let me see you.”
I should argue. The word sits on my tongue but dissolves when his mouth ghosts my temple. He eases me onto my back, the blanket sliding to my waist. Talon kneels beside us like a sinner at an altar.
“I just woke up,” I try again, aiming for bite.
“And what better way to start the day?” Talon’s gaze dips as the blanket slips another inch. “We’ll get hit by some kind of bullshit anyway. Let’s live a little, babe.”
We did live a little yesterday.
And some small voice whispers: it was the best time of your life. Why not again?
I’m not strong enough to defy it.
“Promise to be gentle,” I say.
“Promise,” Talon answers.
“On my life.”
“Skye,” Nathaniel chuckles. “Contrary to everything, we are not brutes.”
Mhm. I’ll believe it when I experience it.
Nathaniel’s palm skims my sternum, spreads over my ribs. His thumb catches the peak of my nipple through the thin cotton shirt someone put me in last night. It’s not mine. It’s his, I think.
“Arms up,” he says.
I lift my hands. He peels the shirt away. Cool air kisses my skin, yet somehow I go hotter anyway.
Talon whistles, low and hungry, but when he reaches for me, Nathaniel’s hand catches his wrist, just enough to stop him.