Chapter 38 Rasmus
RASMUS
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
My hand jerked along my cock, slick and frantic, as I watched the video for the tenth, no, the twentieth time.
I couldn’t stop. My star. My fucking goddess.
Kissing Van like that, but she wanted me to watch, had practically begged me to watch.
Her silent message burned in my brain: This is for you, Ras. Watch me.
And I did. I always did.
She and I knew she was giving me a gift wrapped in sin, tied with the kind of smirk that made my spine lock and my breath into a growl.
While I was locked in this goddamn office, making sure there were no surprises in the code Calix just wrote, like she’d asked me to, she was out there putting on a show that made my heart rupture and my cock ache in equal measure.
I should be with her. My mouth should be on her thighs, my hands spreading her wide, my cock buried so deep she forgot her own name, but no.
I was here. Alone. Hunched over a computer, only getting to see her through surveillance footage like a fucking stalker, which, okay, fine, you got me, but at least I was hers.
The minute I flipped to the Winged Palace feed and caught her sneaking up behind her mage like the little minx she was, I knew. She’s thinking of me. Of us. Of how I’d react when I saw it.
She knew I was watching her, so I recorded it.
Of course, I fucking did. It was on loop now, playing on every screen as I let fantasy take over.
I envisioned myself crashing through the door, stalking up to them, and turning her face so I could kiss her until she forgot air existed.
I would peel those leather pants down and claim what was mine while Van stood there holding her up while she got weak at the knees.
In another fantasy, they moved it into the office, and I waited until they were lost in each other. As soon as one of them came, I let my sex magic detonate like a bomb, turning the situation into beautiful, filthy, three-way chaos to christen her office.
I kept watching the recording as her leg lifted, her knee dragging up his thigh, that wicked gleam in her eye. As I unzipped my pants and palmed my hard cock, his eerie gaze flicked toward the camera. Oh, you can feel me, don’t you? You know I’m here. Watching. I’m always watching.
She looked right at the camera like she could see into me and smirked. My soul howled. I knew it! I knew what my star wanted, what her silent orders were telling me. Watch me, Ras. Touch yourself to thoughts of me. Know I’m yours even when I’m wrapped around someone else.
Pumping my hand up and down, I almost called out her name, but I bit my knuckles instead, locking that primal scream in my throat because I didn’t want to miss a second.
When she wrapped her leg around him and ground down with that desperate little roll of her hips, I saw stars. I wanted to crawl through the screen and drag her out by the hips. I wanted her lips, her moans, her sweat, everything.
I spit in my hand and stroked harder, rougher, until my body tensed like a bowstring. She’s mine. Mine. Mine.
Even when he kissed her, bending her back like she was his, she wasn’t—we all knew it. When it came to my mate, sharing was caring, which was fine with me up until this moment, with the mate bond so fresh.
My dick throbbed in my grip, my hand a poor replacement for her greedy, dripping cunt. My other hand dragged over my mouth, imagining hers pressing into mine. Hot. Wet. Unforgiving.
My hips bucked. My whole body clenched. “Aniyah—” I moaned her name like a goddamn prayer, coming so hard my vision whited out for a second.
Cum spattered across my abdomen, but I kept pumping, greedy and twitching and fucked up on her.
Their foreheads pressed together, letting a soft intimacy grow between them.
It wasn’t about the sex; it was the closeness.
The time they’d had together. That ugly green rot clawed up my throat and wrapped around my heart, but I didn’t stop watching.
I couldn’t. I was addicted. Obsessive. Sick.
In love. Whatever you wanted to call it, I had it.
The urge to go there and ruin it was strong, so I did the only thing I could think about. I texted her. Just had to say something or I was going to implode.
She pulled out her phone and read it, giving it to Van before looking at me through the camera. I couldn't help but wave at her like she could see me.
Van smirked, turning to me and taking a bow—that smug bastard—then flipped me off. I barked a laugh, still panting. “Yeah, well… fuck you, too, pretty boy.”
As soon as the psycho twins appeared, I snapped back to live feed.
Aniyah stepped into the elevator, riding it to floor three, and I smiled. I still needed to take her to the star room and show her how bright she shined in the throes of passion. The goal was to make those stars jealous.
My cock twitched against my soaked pants. This woman’s going to kill me, but at least it would be a happy death—better than I thought I would get in this life.
I stood up and headed to my room, where I peeled off my pants and tossed them into the hamper. Just as I walked back to my computer, my phone buzzed.
I answered instantly. “My star?! Do you need me?”
But it wasn’t her.
Alic’s voice rumbled through the speaker, all annoying. “She doesn’t like desperate men. You should know that by now.”
I growled. “She doesn’t like desperate men, but she likes them crazy. There's a thin line of difference, you smug bastard.”
He sighed like I was the exhausting one, but I already knew he was thirsty, too. He was just better at hiding it behind a scowl. Me? I was honest. I wanted to turn her scent into a candle, build a shrine of her lipstick stains, and watch her sleep like it was my favorite show.
That was love. Fuck your fake angry bullshit.
“Look, I called because I need you to do a deep dive on anyone at the WP who was close with Glen. Friends, flings, even one-night stands. We found lipstick on his torn-up shirt. Fresh.”
Nodding more to myself than to him, I muttered, “Yeah. Sure. I’ll look and let you know.”
We hung up quickly, better that way. Any longer and we’d be snapping at each other.
Aniyah hated when we fought, especially over stuff like this.
And truthfully, I was exhausted. Navigating my relationship with her was one thing, but dealing with her other mates?
It felt like trying to dance on a minefield while wearing a blindfold.
They were all so different and had their own unique hot buttons, but that was my life now. I’d figure it out eventually.
I glanced back to the monitors, wanting to see my star to pick me up. As I had the thought, something clawed at my gut—an itch—and I knew better than to ignore it. I hadn’t seen her for a while. Instinct didn’t lie, especially when it was tied to your mate.
“Just a quick look,” I muttered, flipping through the feeds like a man possessed.
Each room cycled in clean night vision. Nothing strange. Nothing wrong… until I got to the last one.
The feed was black.
I frowned, tapping the controls. It wasn’t off. It said it was on. But the lens was obscured, like something had been deliberately placed over it. My stomach clenched.
What the hell was going on in that room that someone didn’t want us to see?
I called down to security. Ryan picked up on the first ring.
“Hey, it’s Rasmus. What’s happening in the Starlight Room on three?”
There was a beat of silence before he said, “Miss Glovefox went up there to talk to Miss Natalie. Is something wrong?”
Right as he spoke, the camera outside the door flickered to life.
Aniyah came barreling out, covered in blood, wings out, flying for the stairwell like death itself was nipping at her heels.
I hung up on Ryan mid-sentence and switched the view to the stairwell feed. My fingers were ice. My breath caught.
She was on the move. Fast. Something clenched in her grip.
I turned up the mic feed just in time to hear her panting, “Pick up. Pick up. Pick up.”
Calix’s voice crackled on the other end. “What’s goin—”
“Quickly. How do I work the ejector seat in my office, and how far does it fling?”
“What?” Calix stumbled. “Wait—what? Why?”
“I need you to go faster, Cal. I’ve got thirty seconds left.”
“For what?” both of us shouted.
“The bomb in my hands. The one that destroys magic.”
I shot to my feet, tablet in hand as I clicked on the apps that pulled up the camera, not wanting to take my eyes off her for a second, and bolted for the stairs.
“Shit, okay—okay!” Calix fumbled. “There’s a red button under your chair, right side, opposite the seat adjuster. Covered by a clear plastic cap. Open it, press it, then jump out of the way or it’ll take you with it.”
Van was gonna kill him. He actually gave her a fucking ejector seat!
I tore around the corner, sprinting down the block and up the stairs, blowing past Randy as I ran through the employee entrance.
On the mic, Aniyah’s voice was steady but laced with sarcasm. “Thanks. If I die, just know it’s ‘cause you didn’t make the building immune to this kind of bomb. Love ya.”
I called Van, needing someone else to be on their way to her, too.
“Looking wasn’t enough, so now you’re calling to rub it in?” he snapped.
“Go to her office!” I barked, weaving through the hallway. “She has a bomb, and she’s trying to launch it out the window.”
There was silence, then he roared, “What the fuck?!” I could hear the thud of his running—hell of a phone mic. Where did he get it? I was too terrified to laugh at my off-topic thought.
“Just GO!” I yelled and hung up.
I saw Lucus ahead with a fucking bouquet of roses in his hand. Really?
“What's going on?” he asked, eyebrows raised as I ran past him, gritting my teeth. The flowers were the same color as her eyes. Classy fucking move.
“Aniyah. Bomb. Office.” That was all I had breath for.
“Fuck.” He dropped the roses and vanished in a blur of vampire speed.
Lucus shoved the doors open, calling out for her, right as Aniyah rounded the corner.
“MOVE, MOVE!” she screamed, running into the room and shoving the bomb into the seat. “STAND BACK!” She climbed underneath and started to fiddle with something.
Lucus and I didn’t even think. We flanked her, ready to snatch her away.
Van crashed through the door, panting and wild-eyed, as the timer ticked down.
Ten seconds.
My chest was going to implode. This couldn’t be it. Not now. Not like this.
“Aniyah…” My voice broke, but that wasn’t me. That was the mate in me shaking apart.
“ANIYAH,” Lucus barked at five seconds.
“I know! Got it!”
We heard a click, then Lucus and I yanked her out from under the chair as the seat launched with a violent whoosh.
A glimmer of magic streamed from the chair, shooting all the way up to the ceiling.
A cracking noise sounded, earth and air magic working as one under a rune spell, as the ceiling split apart like a zipper.
In the span of two seconds, the chair was launched into the air.
Just as fast as the ceiling cracked did it come back together, the magic settling and dissipating.
It must have been a one-time-use kind of spell.
At her window, there was a bright flash. A loud boom. The entire building trembled under the blast.
We froze.
Silence.
Then laughter.
Loud, hysterical, unhinged laughter from the floor.
Aniyah laid there, wheezing like a maniac. “Oh, my god… I’m putting ejector seats in everything.”
I collapsed next to her, kissing her cheeks, forehead, anywhere I could reach. My voice cracked. “I love you. I fucking love you. You scared the hell out of me. Don’t do that again.”
I only let go when Lucus and Van reached for her, needing to feel her, just like I did. To confirm she was solid, alive. Not a ghost in our hands.
They took her into their laps, switching between yelling at her and kissing her, all while calling her reckless, genius, insane.
Alic and Maso stormed in, wide-eyed.
“What the hell just happened?” Maso asked, but I just laid on the floor and looked at the ceiling. I was going to have to say that her brother was a genius, and I hated saying that to the smug asshole.
She was safe, and we survived. That’s what counted.
A deep voice shook the walls. “WAIT. WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?!”
I giggled uncontrollably. Someone must’ve finally told Alic.