Chapter 40
Forty
Byron
Irest my head next to Elodie’s as her breath evens out into the softer rhythm of sleep. This close, I’d swear I can feel the slowing thump of her pulse through the mark on my palm.
With every inhalation, more of her sweetly tangy scent seeps into my lungs. I want to wrap myself in it, to smell nothing else for the rest of my life.
When I pictured myself with a match before, I never imagined an interlude like this, getting her off with another man. But feeling her come so thoroughly apart between us… I don’t think I could give it up now that I know what it’s like, even to have her all for myself.
Elodie needs more than one match. The sense of my own glim tickling through my nerves is giddying, like I’ve got electricity literally flowing through my veins. With a glim like hers…
I can’t help wondering just how much power she holds in this slim body that she hasn’t even uncovered yet.
Why else would fate have given her four mates to balance her out?
That line of thinking makes my chest clench up. I prop myself up on my elbow to get a better look at my match’s peaceful face—and to glance over her at my partner in our interlude.
Salvatore hasn’t dozed off either. When I first look at him, he’s gazing at Elodie as avidly as I probably was a moment ago.
I’m still not sure I like her being tied to an unrepentant criminal… but I can admit that he’s proven himself completely devoted. I get the impression he’d sooner off himself than hurt her.
Salvatore lifts his gaze to meet mine and arches an eyebrow. “It’s a little late to get possessive. She has both of us. Deal with it. Soon we’re going to be dealing with the Raiths nosing into the bedroom too.”
Through my instinctive irritation at his tone, guilt pinches at my gut. Can I really be surprised he assumes that’s what I’m thinking?
I shake my head and keep my own voice carefully low to avoid disturbing Elodie’s rest. “I’ve dealt with it. That’s not— Do you ever wonder if we should really be doing this?”
The other eyebrow shoots up. “Doing what—making her come harder than she ever has in her life?”
I wrinkle my nose at his crudeness, but he’s given me a reasonable opening.
“We don’t even know if that’s true. She had years with the other versions of us…
” The words snag in my throat for a moment before I can force them out.
“Do you think it’s right for us to push into their places?
Should we be trying to send her back to them? ”
A flicker of something that might be anger or fear or maybe a mix of both tenses Salvatore’s face. “Did she say she wants to go back?”
“I—no. It just seems like an obvious question to ask. If we really care about her—”
He sets his hand on her side—gingerly, not wanting to wake her any more than I do.
“I haven’t got a fucking clue how we’d even start to consider sending her across parallel universes.
But more importantly, I don’t think they deserve her.
You’ve seen how scared she was to trust us, to let us in.
How the hell could she feel like that if they’d treated her right? ”
I pause. I hadn’t thought about the situation exactly that way before, but he isn’t wrong. Elodie’s reluctance to tell us the truth, to rely on us, to even accept our eyes on her body has gnawed at me.
I assumed it was because of how we’ve treated her since she arrived… but it isn’t just that, is it? Some of her reactions are clearly deeper rooted, twisted up in insecurities from long before she arrived in our world.
“Mr. Overly Fucking Honorable here,” Salvatore mutters into my silence. “Don’t you want her? If you’re not committed to making this union work, there’s a door right over—”
“No.” My horror at the idea of leaving Elodie propels the refusal from my throat before he can finish his sentence. “No, I—I just want whatever’s best for her.”
My gaze drops to her sleeping form again. The swell of emotion in my chest creeps up my throat. Every particle of my being thrums with the need to shelter her, to please her…
“I love her,” I say, knowing it down to my bones as I form the words. I repeat it with proper emphasis. “I love her.”
One corner of Salvatore’s mouth kicks upward. “Oh, so you’re not the heartless Tin Man after all.”
My gaze flicks back to him, narrowing. “You’re a Wizard of Oz fan now?”
He waves his hand in the air. “Doesn’t everyone see that movie as a kid? I grew up with mobsters, not wolves.”
“I don’t see how I’d be the Tin Man.”
“You’re definitely the Tin Man,” he says with total confidence. “Rigid and full of airs and barging through life like you’ve got an axe to grind.”
I’m not sure I agree with his interpretation of the character, but it doesn’t seem worth arguing. “Who are you, then? The lion?”
He snorts. “No, I don’t think courage is ever going to be my problem. You all seem to think I have too much. So I must be the Scarecrow. I’ll admit I could occasionally use a little work in the brains department. Professor Raith is the Cowardly Lion.”
A smile tugs at my own lips, even though I might dispute Salvatore’s “occasionally” regarding his brains. “I guess that fits.”
“Oh, yeah. All that growl but not much bite when push comes to shove.” Salvatore grins at the comparison.
“What about Asher then?”
Salvatore looks at me incredulously. “Have you ever seen a more obvious Toto?”
I have to clap my hand over my mouth against the guffaw that bursts out of me. It might be an unfair observation… but I can’t say it’s not a little accurate.
Unfortunately, I don’t stifle the sound quickly enough. Elodie stirs and rolls onto her back to peer at me beneath heavy lidded eyes.
“What’s going on?” she mumbles.
I brush a few stray strands of hair back from her face. “Nothing. Just Salvatore being Salvatore.”
“Hmm,” she says drowsily. “He is funny.”
The guy in question pipes up from her other side. “I’ll take that only as a compliment.”
I can’t help staring down at the incredible woman who’s somehow my match as her eyelids droop again. The graceful line of her face, the gilded brown of her skin, the tumble of her hair—
Her eyelashes flutter, and she focuses on me with a little more alertness. “What?”
Has she forgotten the conversation we just had? “I told you, it was nothing, just Salvatore goofing around.”
“No. Why are you looking at me like that?” She rolls farther toward me and prods my chest with one hand.
Even though I’ve all but said the words already, my pulse stutters with sudden nervousness. Which is absurd, because what I’m feeling is the most natural emotion in the world, what every match should feel for their mate.
Why wouldn’t she want to hear it?
I bring my hand to her cheek, holding her gaze. “I love you.”
The smile that crosses her face shines as bright as the sun. It radiates into me with a surge of warmth like nothing I’ve ever felt before.
She grips my neck and scoots up to kiss me, hard and deep, until I forget how to breathe. Then, with our faces tucked close together, she murmurs, “I love you too.”
From her other side, Salvatore lets out a grunt.
Elodie swats at him. “You know I love you too.”
“Doesn’t make it any less enjoyable to hear you say it, a shíorghrá.”
I’ve heard him use that phrase and a couple others for her before. “What does ah heer graw mean?” I ask, attempting to mimic the sounds.
They answer in unison, their voices blending together. “My eternal love.”
Salvatore grins hearing Elodie confirm his answer.
As he slings his arm around her waist, I stroke her cheek again, with a possessive urge despite my earlier denial. “I’ll keep saying it too, Precious.”
“She is precious,” Salvatore agrees easily, and taps his fingers lightly on Elodie’s belly. “And she needs more sleep.”
Elodie doesn’t argue, snuggling between us again. I press a gentle kiss to her forehead as she drifts off.
The emotion that flooded me condenses around my heart in the most poignant of aches.
Yes, she’s precious. And for all her strength, she could still be broken by the threats gathering around us.
I don’t think there’s any length I wouldn’t go to if it’d see her through this storm, any number of people I wouldn’t cut down to keep her with me.