Chapter Thirteen
Sage
I huddle deeper under the blanket as a sharp breeze cuts through the trees.
The porch swing creaks slightly beneath me.
I'm curled up on it, the heavy volume Winston lent me balanced in my lap.
The scent of old parchment mixes with pine and distant woodsmoke while I try to lose myself in ancient satyr lore, but my brain is foggy, scattered.
No useful leads yet. Just vague references, poetic metaphors, and too many footnotes.
"You really are something else," Kayden drawls from the doorway.
I don't even look up. "You keep saying that like it's a revelation."
"Is it the thrill of almost freezing to death, or do you just like the view?" he asks, stepping outside. His boots hit the porch with a solid thud. "Because the backyard isn't that spectacular."
"It's not about the view. It's the air. The space. Being outside calms the ache a little."
He narrows his eyes. "Nymph stuff?"
I nod. "Yeah. Nymph stuff."
Without asking, he lowers himself into the swing beside me. Instantly too close. It's not a small swing, but somehow he takes up all of it—arms spread out like he owns the damn thing.
I shoot him a warning glance. "You're crowding me."
"Consider it my personal contribution to warming efforts." He smirks, then catches my hands. "And these? Ice blocks. Are you trying to become one with the frost?"
Before I can reply, he's rubbing my fingers between his palms, then brings them to his mouth and blows warm air over my knuckles. The heat of his breath grazes my skin, sending an involuntary shiver.
"You know," I murmur, trying to ignore how intimate it feels, "if you keep doing things like this, I might start to think you're… nice."
His head tilts, mock-offended. "Watch your mouth. That's a dangerous accusation, sunshine."
His grip on my hands loosens, but he doesn't let go. There's something softer in his expression now, buried beneath the cocky surface—a flicker of real warmth. Or maybe something darker, deeper. I can't quite tell.
"Nice is boring anyway," he adds. "I prefer... dangerously magnetic with occasional acts of reluctant heroism."
I raise an eyebrow. "Still planning to rip my throat out? Or is that on hold?"
"Depends on the mood," he says with a shrug, then, without warning, scoops me into his lap like I weigh nothing.
"Kayden—!"
He tightens his hold. "Relax. I'm unpredictable, remember?"
I should resist. I should push away, scramble off, yell at him. But I don't. His body is warm, solid beneath mine, and my muscles are still half-frozen. Against my better judgment, I sink in.
I hate that it feels good.
I hate even more that he knows it.
When I stop struggling, he shifts me more comfortably in his lap and pulls the blanket tighter around us both. His arms encase me in heat and danger.
"This isn't about being nice," he murmurs, breath brushing my skin. "Can't let you freeze to death out here. Not when there are far more entertaining things we could do."
"Oh, really?" I ask, trying to summon irritation and managing only dry amusement. "Such as?"
A low chuckle rumbles in his chest, the kind that slides down my spine like warm syrup.
"Well… I noticed you stopped reading and started brooding.
I'm guessing that ache of yours is acting up again.
Nature calling or whatever," he says, his lips grazing the edge of my jaw.
"I happen to offer excellent... relief services. "
My breath catches at the way his voice drops on relief—too smooth and suggestive. And too damn effective. I hate how easily he gets under my skin. How this push and pull between us keeps dragging me further in.
"I'm generous like that," he adds. "And I promise, I could keep you very… thoroughly quelled from all those aches."
The words are pure sin, laced with dark promises that make every nerve in me hum. I try to keep my voice steady. "Funny. From what I remember, your methods came with a whole different kind of ache."
His grip tightens a fraction, and his mouth is suddenly at my ear, his voice low and intimately dangerous. "Don't pretend you didn't like it. I remember how you sounded."
I don't answer. I can't. Because part of me still feels the ghost of that night—his palm sharp on my skin, the edge of power, punishment, and pleasure.
And then Kayden's hand moves, sliding slowly, deliberately up my thigh under the blanket, warm fingers tracing over the soft fabric of my stockings like he's already memorized my body.
I should stop him. Say something. But I don't.
His palm presses lightly between my thighs, nothing frantic, just pressure.
I shudder, breath catching as heat coils low in my belly.
"There's still unfinished business," he murmurs, his breath brushing the curve of my neck. "You didn't give me the whole truth…"
His fingers shift, teasing my core, coaxing a fresh rush of fire through me.
"…but that part can wait."
My head tips back against his shoulder, helpless to the sensation.
"I've got something else I want to finish," he growls, voice rough and low. "I don't like leaving things undone. Especially not something I wanted to taste so damn badly."
His movements deepen, intensify, and I feel the tide rising again, fierce and electric.
"Do you have any idea what it felt like?
" he breathes. "Having you on my lap, taking what I gave you…
hearing the sounds you tried to swallow, the way your scent gave you away?
Do you know what kind of hell it was, holding back when every inch of me screamed to bend you over, bury myself in you, and fuck you until you sobbed out the truth? "
His hand tightens.
"I should get a medal for self-control."
His voice, his touch, the promise in those words, they almost undo me.
And then he leans in and murmurs against my skin, "You should stay."
A pause. His touch presses firmer, wickedly precise.
"I could keep you well quelled every night, and while you recover," he adds, lips brushing my ear, "my dear brother can keep cooking your favorite waffles."
A laugh nearly escapes my throat, choked off by a moan I refuse to let out.
Of course he'd say that.
Of course he'd make temptation sound like a perfectly reasonable life plan.
"Am I relegated to your chef now?"
Asher's voice slices clean through the haze.
He steps out from the house casually, holding a steaming mug of hot cocoa topped with an indulgent swirl of whipped cream.
I flinch instinctively, squirming in Kayden's lap, suddenly all too aware of where I am, what I'm doing, and who's watching.
Kayden just laughs, unbothered. His grip on me tightens. "You startle too easily, nymph."
"Don't stop on my account," Asher says.
He sets the mug down on the table between us, his movements smooth, unhurried, then sits across from us, spreading his arms over the back of the bench. His expression remains cool, but there's heat simmering in his amber eyes.
"In fact," he says, voice calm but edged in steel, "continue."
It doesn't sound like a suggestion.
Kayden chuckles low in his chest and pulls me tighter against him, his hands gripping my thighs with intent. "Well, you heard him. Colonel's orders."
I scoff, breathless. "Since when do you follow orders?"
Kayden's mouth brushes my ear. "When they suit me."
My eyes flick to Asher, drop to the hot chocolate between us, then rise back to meet his gaze. He's watching me, unreadable but present. When he smiles, barely a twitch of his mouth, it feels like a hook in my stomach.
"You can have your dessert," he says, voice dropping an octave, "when you finish."
His tone coils low and hot inside me, weaving into the fire already smoldering in my core.
And damn him, something about that calm authority makes me want to obey.
My body relaxes, surrendering against Kayden, and he doesn't hesitate. His fingers slide between my legs again. Still over the fabric, but firm, relentless, hitting every place that makes me shudder.
I close my eyes, a moan breaking free.
Kayden draws in a sharp breath behind me, grinding against me, aching, no doubt. To take me. To bite. But he doesn't. He holds back.
They both do.
"Eyes on me, Sage," Asher says quietly.
My eyes snap open.
Being watched by him while Kayden works me apart is mortifying. And yet… irresistibly erotic. His gaze pins me, calm and exacting.
The pleasure crests, rising sharp and fast. Kayden's teeth find my neck. No bite, just a graze, a ghost of what he's holding back. My whole body's trembling, coiled.
And then—
Asher gives a single nod.
"You can come."
My body obeys like it was waiting for him.
The orgasm crashes over me, fierce and uncontrollable, a shudder tearing through me as I fall apart in Kayden's lap.
"That's it, sunshine," Kayden murmurs, his voice wrecked.
The aftershocks ripple through me as Kayden slowly loosens his grip, keeping one arm wrapped around my waist like he's reluctant to let me go. My body's still trembling, heart pounding like I ran a marathon through fire.
Asher rises. Composed. In control.
He reaches for the mug without a word and dips two fingers into the cloud of whipped cream.
Then he crosses to me.
My breath catches.
He holds my gaze the entire time. The whipped cream drips faintly from his fingers as he raises them to my lips.
"Open," he says, voice low.
I do.
He slides his fingers into my mouth. I close my lips around them, sucking slowly, tasting the sweetness. The tension between us crackles. His pupils dilate as I lick him clean, but his control never wavers.
Asher withdraws his fingers, then brushes my cheek with his knuckles.
"Good girl," he murmurs.
The praise lands like lightning in my spine. And gods… I'd obey him all over again.
I'm still in Kayden's lap, my body buzzing, Asher's touch lingering like a brand on my skin. The aftershocks of pleasure mix with something else—shock, disbelief, and tendrils of guilt.
"Are you both okay with this… situation?" I ask, glancing back at Kayden, then over at Asher.
The brothers exchange a look over my shoulder. It's silent, loaded, but not uncertain.
Asher's gaze settles on mine.
"I'd say we are," he replies. Then, softly, "Are you?"
"I…"
I shouldn't be. I shouldn't be okay with any of this. Not with vampires. Not with desire that burns through logic and fear and history like wildfire.
And yet… here I am. Between two of them. Needing more.
"You don't have to answer now," Kayden says, shifting beneath me. "Sleep on it. But hey—waffles, hot chocolate, and two dashing vampires?" He grins. "One slightly more dashing than the other, obviously. But still. Pretty sweet deal."
"Oh yeah," I mutter. "You're a real Walmart special."
He laughs, deep and pleased.
Asher's eyes drift past us toward the garden. He blinks, then lifts a brow. "Sage… is your plant magic connected to your arousal?"
Kayden and I both snap our heads to look. The garden, dead and gray just moments ago, is blooming. Tiny blue and white flowers dot the frostbitten ground, too early for the season, and too wild to explain naturally.
I bite my lip. "Yeah. I can't control it when I'm aroused."
Kayden bursts into laughter.
Asher's grin is slower, amused. "That's… interesting."
"Another reason for me not to stay," I mutter. "If this keeps happening, I'll turn your backyard into a jungle."
I try to climb off Kayden's lap for the third time. He pulls me right back in, arms like steel.
"Don't worry," he says smoothly. "We'll hire a gardener."
And damn him, I laugh. And this time, I stop resisting. Just for this moment.