Chapter 6 #4
He was silent for a moment. “When I joined, that’s when I met Phoenix and Jamie.
Phoenix’s dad, Malakai, has been an Order elder since his grandfather passed.
He practically raised Phoenix on tales of the old worlds.
It’s why he knows so much about those plants he’s raising.
And after James lost his parents, his uncles took him in.
They’re in Malakai’s shield, and so naturally they trained us together. ”
“Malakai, the one who owns that antique shop in the village,” I said, remembering the large man that was pretty much a clone of Phoenix.
He nodded. “That’s him. He’s a big fucker, but he’s one of the kindest men I know.”
“Must be where Phoenix gets it from then,” I mused. Phoenix was more gentle than looks gave him credit for. Sure, he was built like a fucking tree, but he was all kindness and good vibes inside. “You love your shield brothers, don’t you?”
It wasn’t uncommon for shield brothers to become more like family than anything. When you risked your lives side by side for years and years, it was natural.
Rowan smiled, eyes flickering to mine. “Once you’re bonded, you can’t really go back to how things were. There are voices in your head now. Lives who rely on you to not mess up. But I do love them. They’re my brothers, and I’d die for any of them. The same way I’d die for you.”
The air between us shifted.
Rowan’s eyes dropped from my face, traveling down slowly, unhurried, like he had all the time in the world and intended to use every second of it, pale blue eyes going darker, heavier. My breathing picked up when his palm landed on my thigh.
“I can’t wait,” he said quietly, “To add you to the bond. To feel you in my head.” His hand slid upward along bare skin where the towel had shifted, and my whole nervous system lit up.
He leaned in, close enough that I could smell his soap and the faint warmth of coffee on his breath. “Can you block your connection?”
I knew exactly what he was asking. Nightfall. The bond. Four men sitting somewhere on the other side of my mental walls who would feel every flicker of what I was feeling if I let them.
“I’m not fucking you again,” I said. “Not until after the bonding.”
The corner of his mouth curved wickedly. “I said nothing,” he murmured, “about fucking.” He reached out and pulled the towel open.
The sound he made under his breath was low and rough and entirely involuntary, his composure shattering for exactly one second before he wrestled it back, eyes moving over me, jaw tight, a muscle feathering in his cheek.
“Block them out,” he said. “Now.”
I slammed the walls down.
It took effort, like pressing both palms flat against a door while something heavy pushed from the other side.
I felt the bond go muffled, the phantom warmth of four familiar presences going quiet behind reinforced mental glass.
They were still there. They were always still there.
But they were on the other side of something solid, and whatever happened next was mine alone.
His mouth found the curve of my neck first, unhurried, lips warm and impossibly soft for a man who looked the way he did.
I felt the brush of his beard against my collarbone, the slow drag of his mouth moving lower, and my fingers curled against the sofa cushion.
He kissed across my chest without rushing, like this was something to be savored, like he intended to take his time.
When his mouth closed over my nipple I stopped pretending I was composed, my breath coming out sharply, my free hand finding his shoulder on instinct.
He made a low, satisfied sound against my skin that went straight through me.
Then his hands were sliding under my thighs and pulling, easing me down the sofa until my back met the cushions and the towel was entirely useless, and he was kneeling between my parted legs looking up at me with those pale, dark-blown eyes like this was exactly where he’d intended to end up all along.
“Rowan—”
“Keep the block,” he said gruffly. Not a request.
I tightened the walls and nodded.
He lowered his head. The first touch of his mouth made my hips roll entirely without my permission, a sound escaping me that I was glad the walls muffled from Nightfall. He was unhurried about it, tongue moving in slow strokes with zero urgency.
I pressed the back of my hand to my mouth. It didn’t help much.
He worked his way to my clit with the same unhurried patience, and when he closed his lips around it and sucked gently, my whole body arched, thighs trembling on either side of his shoulders, fingers threading into his hair on instinct and gripping.
He didn’t pull back. Just stayed with it, steady and slow and merciless, until the tension coiled so tight it had nowhere to go but through me.
I came with my teeth pressed into my own knuckles and my mental walls braced with everything I had, the pleasure cresting and breaking in waves.
For a moment, I wished I could go back and build those mental walls the first time around.
But it was hard enough to hold it for even this long.
I couldn’t imagine maintaining it while he fucked me for real.
Rowan pressed one last soft kiss to the inside of my thigh and sat back, looking entirely too satisfied with himself, hair slightly wrecked where I’d had my hands in it. I stared at the ceiling for a moment, trying to remember how breathing worked.
“You—” I finally managed, “are a dangerous, wicked man with the face of Prince Charming.”
“Mm.” He picked up his coffee from the table, completely composed, as if he hadn’t just dismantled me entirely. “Is that a complaint from the lady?”
I pulled the towel back around myself and pushed upright on unsteady arms, glaring at him. He looked back at me with those pale eyes, and the satisfaction in them was warm rather than smug.
Noodle lifted his head from the pillow across the room. ‘That was deeply undignified.’
“Nobody asked you,” I said, sticking my tongue out at him.
’I live here.’
Rowan’s mouth twitched. He set his mug down and leaned back against the sofa, one arm resting along the back of it, and for a moment the room was quiet. Outside the window the last of the evening light had faded to darkness.
I let the mental walls down slowly, carefully, like releasing a held breath. The bond flooded back in, muffled and distant, Nightfall’s ambient presence resuming its usual low hum. Nobody had noticed. I exhaled a relieved breath.
“Next week,” Rowan said, watching my face as I came back to myself fully. “The bonding. Are you—” He stopped. “Are you ready for what it’ll feel like? Having all of us in your head at once?”
I tucked my knees up, resting my chin on them. Honestly? Nine distinct minds and magical signatures threading into mine in a single night. The thought made me dizzy.
“I’ll manage,” I said. “I always do.”
He looked at me for a long moment, something working behind his eyes that he didn’t put into words.
Then he stood, unhurried, and retrieved his jacket from the chair where he’d dropped it.
“Get some sleep, love,” he said. “Your arm needs the rest and from the looks we’re receiving, Noodle is seconds away from biting me. ”
“You’re probably right,” I said with a small laugh as Noodle hissed playfully. I stood up and pulled my towl into place as Rowan gathered our mugs and took them to the kitchen.
I followed him through the room, and he paused at the door, glancing back. “For what it’s worth, you were extraordinary in the arena today. Before the disaster portion of the evening.”
I opened my mouth to say something cutting. He was already closing the door behind him.
I stood there in the quiet for a moment, listening to the sound of his footsteps retreating down the corridor, the distant creak of the old building settling around me, feeling warm and smug and utterly satisfied.
’Mouse,’ Noodle said hopefully.
“Oh my god, fine.” I whirled around, snapping out of my blissful moment, and went to find him a disgusting mouse.