Chapter 2 #2
Trace stepped closer, his blue eyes locked on mine like he was trying to find me beneath all my doubt. “And what about what you want, Jemma? Do you think it’s the spell making you want both of us?”
My stomach knotted at his question. My feelings for them had always been there and had always been real. Of that I was certain. But wanting them both? Being greedy enough to keep them both instead of choosing one? That was the part I couldn’t fully reconcile no matter how hard I tried.
What if the whole time it had just been the spell whispering in my ear, telling me I could have everything I wanted when I was never supposed to?
“I don’t know,” I admitted, dropping my eyes.
“I don’t know how much of this is the spell and how much of it is really us, and that’s exactly the problem.
” Wrapping my arms around myself, I forced a firmness into my voice that I didn’t feel.
“I need to slow this down. At least until I know what’s real and what isn’t.
Until I know what parts of me are still… mine.”
Trace crossed his arms. “So what does that mean right now?”
“It means I need space. I need to figure out what I’m feeling without you both right there making it impossible for me to sort through any of it,” I said, hating the way the words sounded out loud even as I forced them past my lips.
“That’s a charming notion, angel, but it’s out of the question.” Dominic’s eyes had darkened to pitch black. “You were just anointed as the Fourth Horseman mere hours ago. Do you truly believe for one second we’re going to leave you alone after that?”
“You know he’s right. It’s not safe,” added Trace, the muscle in his throat moving as he swallowed. “What if something happens and we’re not here? What if the voices come back?”
A chill slid through me at the words.
I’d been so focused on the idea of losing control of my feelings and my choices that I hadn’t let myself think about that part.
About what might happen if the voices returned while I was alone.
If they commanded me to do something and there was no one there to stop me. No one to bring me back from the brink.
For a split second, I imagined it. Waking up with my head full again. That blinding pressure behind my eyes. The unrelenting pull in my chest, steering me toward something I didn’t want to have any part of.
My fingers curled tighter around my waist.
They must have seen the slip in my expression, the determination on my face giving way to uncertainty, because Dominic was suddenly there, his body a breath away from mine, the scent of warm, decadent chocolate and expensive leather flooding my senses.
“We will not be leaving this room under any circumstances,” he said, his tone brooking no argument. “However, if you require the bed to yourself for tonight...” His jaw flexed once. “I’ll make do with the chair.”
“And I’ll take the floor,” added Trace, though everything about his posture said he hated the idea of sleeping away from me. “But we’re not leaving you alone tonight, Jem. That’s not negotiable.”
I wanted to argue that their proximity would make it impossible for me to think clearly, that I’d never be able to sort through the mess in my head with them lying right within reach, breathing the same air as me, wearing me down with every word and every look.
But the fear was already wrapping around my ribs like a snare, squeezing harder with every breath I took.
What if the voices did come back? What if I woke up with blood on my hands and no memory of how it got there? What if I did something that I could never take back? Something I knew I’d never forgive myself for.
“Fine,” I said finally, the word coming out small and defeated. “You can both stay. But not in my bed.”
Dominic’s expression didn’t change, though the hardness in his eyes eased a fraction. “As you wish, angel.”
Trace padded over to the closet and pulled out the extra blanket and pillow to recreate his sleeping quarters on the floor beside my bed.
He shook the blanket out once and folded it down, arranging it into something that vaguely passed for a bed.
If he was upset about it, he didn’t let it show. At least not in any way I could see.
Dominic lowered himself into the armchair on the other side of my bed and stretched his long legs out in front of him, as though discomfort were entirely beneath his notice.
He appeared perfectly at ease, like a man who would sleep in a chair, on gravel, or at the bottom of a volcano if it meant sparing me even the smallest hurt.
I turned away quickly, burying the warmth that spread through my chest before it could make its way up the surface.
I couldn’t trust any of it right now. Not the warmth or the pull or the way my stomach did that traitorous thing whenever either of them were too close to me.
The way it made me want to throw out every rule I’d set for myself and just sink into them and never come back up again.
I couldn’t let myself feel any of it. Not until I knew for certain that what I felt was really mine.
Crossing to the dresser, I pulled out an oversized t-shirt and a pair of shorts, and retreated to the bathroom, closing the door behind me with a little more force than necessary.
The mirror caught my reflection the moment I stepped inside, and I stilled, taking in the flushed cheeks, the wild hair, the eyes too bright and strained with everything I hadn’t let out yet.
It was hard to look at myself like that, so I didn’t, choosing instead to turn away and focus on the simple task of changing.
My shirt came off first, then my jeans. I reached for the oversized t-shirt I’d grabbed from the dresser when I caught sight of my wrist. A thin, dark line ran along the inside of my forearm, just beneath the surface of my skin. Something about it made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
What in the—
Holding my breath, I turned my arm over, angling it toward the light to get a better view.
The mark was faint but unmistakable, black as ink under my pale skin.
I pressed against it lightly, testing it.
There was no pain or swelling. Nothing that signified a serious injury, but my stomach knotted just the same.
It’s probably nothing, I told myself. Just a bruise I don’t remember getting.
Between the ritual, the porting, the wings tearing through my back, there had been plenty of opportunities to get banged up. It would fade. No big deal.
I dropped my hand and forced myself to slow my breathing until the feeling dulled enough to ignore. Whatever it was, I didn’t have the energy to chase it tonight. I quickly finished dressing and shut off the light.
When I emerged from the bathroom, the room had gone quiet, steeped in a low, uneasy tension, lit only by the faint moonlit glow from the window.
Trace was already stretched out on the floor, one arm folded behind his head as Dominic sat back in the armchair on the other side of my bed, his watchful eyes finding mine the moment I stepped into view.
“Everything okay?” asked Trace, his easy voice carrying through the darkness.
“Define okay.” I snorted humorlessly.
He frowned, every line of his face betraying how badly he wanted to be able to fix this for me.
“Perhaps if you allowed us to—”
“No,” I cut in before Dominic could finish his suggestion. Whatever he was going to say, whatever he was offering, I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to turn it down.
“You didn’t let me finish.”
“I know,” I said and didn’t bother to elaborate. “But it’s still a no.”
Dominic tracked me as I crossed to my bed. “Very well. Suffer if you must, then, angel.”
I shot him a flat look over my shoulder, but he only smirked in response.
Fluffing up my pillow, I climbed into bed alone and pulled the covers up around myself like a poor man’s fortress. Regrettably, I made it all of five seconds before my breath caught.
The sheets still smelled like them.
Spice and chocolate and forests and leather, worked so deep into the fabric it felt like they were lying right next to me in the bed. I pulled the covers higher and glared up at the ceiling.
Fucking traitor sheets.
“Goodnight, Jem.” Trace’s baritone rolled through the dark and my chest instantly squeezed at the gentleness in it. “Get some sleep, okay? We got you. Nothing’s getting past us tonight.”
For a moment, I let myself believe him. Let the warmth and comfort of his words sink into me for as long as I could hold onto them before my brain started poking holes in everything.
Before William’s voice was right back there again, needling its way into my thoughts and putting doubt into all of it.
It took everything in me not to move, not to give into it, because lord knew the only thing I wanted to do was close the distance and crawl into their arms and stay there until the very end of days.
But wanting it was exactly the problem.
I closed my eyes and told myself this was what I needed. Space. Distance. A few feet of darkness to remember where I ended and they began.
Unfortunately, the soulmate bond had other plans.
It buzzed under my skin like a live wire, a constant low thrum that refused to leave me alone, pushing and pulling at me until every cell in my body was screaming for me to move closer to Trace.
To feel his hands on my skin. His body pressed up against mine.
It didn’t matter what was happening, or what we were facing, or how hard I tried to ignore it.
The bond was always there, always calling me, always coaxing me to give into it, but tonight it felt stronger somehow.
Hungrier. Like it knew exactly what I was trying to deny myself and had no intention of letting me get away with it.
Gritting my teeth, I turned onto my side, putting my back to where Trace lay on the floor, desperate to put whatever distance I could between myself and the relentless tug of the bond.
Only to find Dominic’s eyes on me in the darkness, watching.
Always watching.
His gaze burned straight through me, and I understood too late that there was no neutral ground in this room. No escape from the torture of having Trace on one side, pulling at my soul, and Dominic on the other, seeing straight through to it. I was trapped between them even now.
I tore my gaze away from his and closed my eyes again, doing my best to block everything out. The bond. The heated looks. The wanting. The weight of everything I was trying so hard to untangle. I told myself I’d done the right thing. That space and distance was what we needed.
I repeated it like a mantra until the edges of the room began to blur and my grip on all of it started to loosen.
The last thing I was aware of before everything softened and gave way was the quiet, unsettling certainty that whatever was waiting for me on the other side of sleep wasn’t going to care about the distance I’d tried to create.
It would find me anyway.