Chapter 68
VI
The Skylight Room is quiet when we arrive. The lantern burns low on the crate. Blankets layered in the center, soft and familiar.
I stop in the middle of the room, turn to face them.
They’re already shedding coats, masks long gone. Just faces now. Armen’s bald head and heavy neck ink. Sting’s neat hair and controlled stillness. Rogue’s messy curls and patchwork tattoos.
Mine.
Armen steps forward first, hand sliding up my back. “You sure about this?”
I nod. “Yes.”
“Good.” He pulls my shirt over my head, tosses it aside. “Because we’re not letting you go.”
Sting moves behind me, hands at my jeans, shoving them down, along with my underwear. I step out of them.
Rogue kneels in front of me, mouth on my thigh, kissing up slowly. “Thank you,” I whisper.
He looks up, eyes dark. “For what?”
“For keeping me alive. For fighting for me. For...” I swallow. “For choosing me.”
His mouth curves. “We didn’t choose you because you’re easy to keep. We chose you because you’re worth the cost.”
Sting’s hands slide up my sides, cupping my breasts. “You fought that girl. Held your own.”
Armen’s mouth finds my throat. “You didn’t break when Jax tried to intimidate you.”
Rogue bites my inner thigh, making me gasp. “You’re not just ours because we claimed you. You’re ours because you claimed us back.”
He studies my face for a long moment. Then: “I bleed so you don’t. That’s how it works.”
I kiss him—hard, desperate. He kisses back, hand tangling in my hair. When I pull back, I turn to Rogue.
He stands, pulls me against him. “Now stop talking and let us fuck you properly.”
I laugh, short, breathless, then turn to Armen, who just cups my face with both hands, forehead pressed to mine. “You’re not just ours. You’re exactly where you belong.”
Then he kisses me, slow, deep, claiming.
They guide me down to the blankets.
This time, it’s different.