Chapter 14
One week later…
Tamsin
Zara and her pack left first.
I watched them from the dock as Magnus checked the rigging one last time and Tobias scanned the shoreline out of habit.
Callum talked animatedly to Killian like he could laugh his way through anything.
Thorne stood at the bow, already looking east, jaw set.
Zara met my eyes across the water and gave me a short nod and a small smile.
Sera followed not long after, her pack moving with quiet efficiency.
Logan clasped Elias’s forearm before boarding, something unspoken passing between them.
Jamie offered me a crooked grin and a two-finger salute.
Edward and Aidan were already focused on the horizon, Declan steady at Sera’s side like he always was.
The boats pulled away one by one, engines kept low until the distance swallowed the sound.
Then it was just us.
Our boat sat heavy in the water, freshly stocked and checked until there was nothing left to check. Griff had gone over the hull twice. Nox three times. Eamon had packed the medical crates himself, labeling everything in his neat handwriting.
Clara stood near the edge of the dock, her injured arm still bound but healed well enough that she could manage a rifle again.
She’d organized the remaining defenders with the same calm determination she’d shown in the fight, setting watch rotations, reinforcing positions, and doing whatever needed to be done when it needed doing.
“You don’t have to stay,” I told her quietly as we checked the last of the supplies.
She shook her head. “Someone has to keep an eye on this place.” Her gaze lifted to the horizon. “And if London comes sniffing around again, I want them to find out that they’ve worn out their welcome.”
I nodded. “We’ll be back.”
She smiled, tired but still sincere. “I know.”
By the time the sun dipped low enough to paint the water in copper, yellow, and red, everything was ready.
I stood at the dock with Elias, Griff, Bishop, Eamon, and Nox beside me, the boat rocking gently against the pilings.
I took one last look at the Isle of Man and the Watch base, not out of sentiment, but respect.
Then I stepped aboard.
The Isle of Man fell away behind us in layers of shadow and fading light.
Elias and Griff took the helm as the sun dipped even lower. The engine stayed quiet while the sea rolled beneath us with its ancient and indifferent rhythm. The wind carried salt and cold and the promise of big things to come.
I stayed on deck longer than I probably should have.
Nox leaned against the rail beside me, arms folded, eyes on the horizon like he was counting invisible markers only he could see. The last light caught in his hair, turning it almost silver for a moment before the sun disappeared entirely.
“Remember the warehouse outside Liverpool?” he asked suddenly.
I snorted softly. “The one where you insisted the back door was ‘definitely’ unlocked.”
“It was,” he exclaimed, feigning offense. “Just… temporarily barricaded.”
“You set off three alarms unlocking it.”
“Two,” he corrected. “The third one was you.”
I smiled despite myself, the memory rising easily. I remembered us running through rain and broken glass, laughter loud and breathless even with danger at our backs. We’d worked together so many times that the lines between command and instinct had blurred years ago.
Nox glanced at me, expression softer than usual. “I always liked those jobs best.”
“Because they went so well?” I asked.
“Because you were fearlessly in charge,” he said simply.
The boat rocked gently, and he shifted closer to me, threading an arm around my waist when I wavered just the slightest bit. His voice dropped, the teasing edge giving way to something more serious.
“I knew,” he said. “A long time ago.”
“Knew what?”
“That you were my mate.” He didn’t make a big deal of it. Didn’t watch my face for a reaction. Just said it like a fact he’d carried carefully. “I didn’t tell you because I was waiting for you to choose me too.”
My chest tightened. “You never said anything.”
He smiled, small but genuine. “You were busy building a movement. I respected that.” His gaze held mine. “I still do.”
My core squeezed tight at that, and I drew a slow breath, grounding myself in the gentle roll of the sea.
Before I could answer, Eamon’s voice carried up from behind us. “That’s enough for tonight.”
I turned to see him standing at the top of the steps leading down to the cabin, arms folded, expression gentle but firm. “You’re exhausted.”
“I’m fine,” I said automatically.
He raised a brow. “That wasn’t a question, mate.”
Nox chuckled and pushed off the rail. “Doctor wins.”
Eamon guided me below deck with a hand at my elbow. Bishop was already there, having laid out blankets and secured the space so the motion of the boat wouldn’t throw us around too much.
“You sleep,” Eamon said softly. “We’ve got watch covered.”
I was so tired that I didn’t argue.
I stripped down to my shirt and panties and crawled under the covers.
I barely remember lying down, just the sense of being surrounded, settled, and safe. I slept until I felt the heat from the sun rising the next morning.
When I woke, it was to warmth.
Nox was behind me, an arm slung loosely over my hip. Eamon lay on my other side, one hand resting lightly on my waist like he’d been checking my breathing in his sleep. Bishop was sitting on the end of the bed, his hand brushing my calf when I shifted.
I smiled, slowly opening my eyes. Morning light filtered through the small porthole.
“You’re awake,” Bishop murmured.
“Mm,” I groaned. “I was hoping not to be.”
Nox’s voice was warm near my ear. “Too bad.”
Eamon shifted slightly, careful not to startle me. “How do you feel?”
I considered it honestly. “A bit warm.”
“That’s acceptable,” he said, and I felt his smile more than saw it.
I stretched leisurely, vividly aware of all three of them around me. I turned slowly, shifting in Nox’s hold, and met Eamon’s eyes. His gaze darkened instantly, and before I could second-guess it, I leaned in and kissed him.
His lips met mine with a sigh that turned into a groan, one hand coming up to cradle my cheek, the other resting wrapped around my ribs. When we finally broke apart, I was panting, and he looked like he could have kept going for hours.
“Good morning,” I murmured, feeling a bit shy.
“Same to you, beautiful,” he replied, his smile soft but wicked.
I sat up, shifting toward Bishop, and he didn’t wait for me to reach for him.
He caught my face in both hands, pulled me in, and kissed me like he had a thousand thoughts he couldn’t say out loud and chose this instead.
His lips were firm, warm, and patient, but there was tension behind them, a hunger carefully held back.
When we separated, his forehead touched mine.
“I’m yours,” he said simply. “I always have been.”
My pulse fluttered at that.
I kissed Nox last.
I rolled to face him fully, half-straddling him as I braced a hand on his chest. His eyes were already half-lidded, dark and waiting.
“You know I’ve wanted this,” he murmured. “But I waited for you.”
“I know,” I whispered.
I kissed him like I meant it.
He tasted like salt and heat and danger. His hand wrapped around my thigh as he kissed me back, deep and slow. I moaned softly into his mouth, and he swallowed the sound with a primal sounding growl that sent sparks all the way down my spine.
By the time I pulled away, we were all breathing harder.
The bond thrummed between us, stronger now, charged and hot and right.
I looked at all three of them, Nox flushed and smirking beneath me, Bishop watching with fire in his eyes, Eamon already reaching for me again, and I felt the low ache in my belly tighten.
We still had hours left on the water.
And I had time.
I stayed straddled over Nox for a moment longer, just breathing him in, his heartbeat steady under my palm. The amused gleam still lingered in his dark eyes, and his hands grasped my hips like he didn’t quite want to let go.
I leaned in and kissed him again, softer this time. When I pulled back, his expression was loose, unguarded in a way he rarely let anyone see.
Behind me, Eamon shifted, fingers brushing my spine with a touch so careful it made me shiver. I turned toward him and met his gaze. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.
His kiss was slower this time. It was less about urgency, and more about tasting me. Every brush of his fingers at my back, every sound he made low in his throat, lit me up from the inside out.
“You’re addictive,” I whispered when we broke apart.
“You’re my everything,” he said, voice ragged, and that undid me more than anything else could have.
I felt movement beside us, and turned to find Bishop sitting closer now, his posture still composed, but his eyes never left mine. I reached for him, hand outstretched.
He caught it and pulled me into his lap.
My legs draped over his thighs as I settled against him. He held me there, one arm wrapped firmly around my waist, the other cupping my jaw. He studied my face for a long moment, his thumb stroking my cheekbone.
“You look at me like you’re trying to solve a puzzle,” I said, my breath catching.
“I’m just memorizing what’s mine,” he whispered, his voice growing huskier by the second.
My heart stuttered.
He leaned in and kissed me then. His tongue swept into my mouth and I melted against him, my hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt, my breath caught in my throat.
When the kiss was over, my lips were swollen, and my body was humming with a need that bordered on desperation. I stared up at him, dazed, as my lips parted.
A low growl rumbled in Bishop’s chest. His hands shifted, one sliding down to grip my hip, pulling me tighter against him, grinding my pussy against the hard length of him. I gasped at the feel of it, biting my lip as a surge of desire hurtled straight down to my clit.