Chapter 62 Jasmine
It’s early. There’s that strange, in-between hush where night hasn’t quite let go, and morning hasn’t yet taken over. I’m not sure what wakes me. The quiet rustle of movement, the brush of fingers against my arm, but when I open my eyes, the room is bathed in soft grey.
A moment caught in limbo.
Then a soothing chill sinks into my skin, my cheek nestled against a familiar chest.
“You’re awake?” Kane’s voice is as soft as the shadows skirting the room.
“What time is it?” I rasp.
“Early.” He shifts, lowering himself enough that his chin rests upon the crown of my head. “You’ve only slept a few hours. You’re recovering faster now. Your body’s adapting.”
I hum, still not fully awake, letting the hush of Kane’s voice and his delicate touches lull me.
“We want to show you something.”
I frown at his strange and sudden request, pulling back to peer up at him, chin against his chest.
I lose track of my thoughts. All words erased.
Kane’s hair is slightly ruffled, but it’s his eyes that undo me—they always do. So much softer than usual, silver glinting through the darkness like broken constellations reflecting on the night sea.
I swallow, finally whispering out, “Sounds ominous.”
He huffs, a quiet sound edging onto a laugh, which is always a feat to gain from Kane.
Then his hands grip my waist, pulling me up until I’m straddling him. My hands drop to his chest and he leans in, lips brushing mine as my fingers curl into his shirt.
I’m still naked, but I don’t care, especially not when he’s touching me.
“You’ll want to see this,” he murmurs, kissing me once before leaning back.
There’s soft fabric pulled over me, and when I open my eyes, I’m met by a shirtless Kane.
I freeze for a moment, then I’m running greedy hands over his firm chest, his dark lines, into his hair, tugging the strands to bring him closer.
I hold him there, inches from my lips, just to see how long he’ll wait—there’s a warning rumble in his chest.
I smile, kissing him slowly, and he groans into my mouth, melting into me. His hands slip into my hair, tilting my head back so his tongue can sweep in.
“They’re waiting for us,” he murmurs between the brushes of our mouths, but doesn’t make any effort to stop.
Until someone clears their throat, and I still.
“Brother,” Ezekial sighs, but there’s no real disappointment, and Kane ignores him. If anything, he kisses me harder.
I do try to pull back, but give up just as quickly.
“Such a distraction.” Ezekial tuts, but laughter rumbles his words as his footsteps move closer.
I try to turn, but Kane has full control of me—fingers threaded in my hair, tugging me back, reclaiming my mouth with a soft growl.
Warm lips brush along my throat, followed by fingers slipping under Kane’s shirt. I whimper at the two of them together and both men groan.
Kane rests his forehead against mine, lips just touching as his brother continues to place soft kisses down my neck, along my shoulder.
Then I feel them. All of them.
Harder and clearer than ever before.
“You feel them,” Kane murmurs, pressing his palm to my chest, over my pendant.
I nod, somehow knowing they can feel it too.
“Kane was supposed to bring you to us when you woke,” Ezekial explains in a whisper, placing a gentle kiss on my jaw. “But I forget how good your manipulation skills are.”
I finally turn to him, and his silver gaze knocks my breathing off kilter. So soft, yet bright, his hair slightly ruffled like Kane’s. Glasses now askew.
“I apologise, my lord,” I rasp, breathless—not only from Ezekial, but from Kane’s lips now replacing his brothers, brushing along my throat.
The silver of his gaze darkens instantly, eyes flicking to my lips.
“How?” he says, voice darker, gruffer. “How will you apologise?”
Kane’s soft chuckle against my throat does nothing to help my brain as it tries to create a response.
Ezekial is already leaning in, brushing his lips over mine as Kane’s fingers dig into my waist.
“More like last night,” I blurt in a whisper, causing both brothers to stop their seduction. “If that was… something you all wanted… I mean—we don’t—”
Ezekial’s kissing the words off my tongue, while Kane growls against my throat.
“Only when you’re ready.” Ezekial brushes his lips with mine after every few words. “We can wait. There’s time.”
Kane’s grip slowly softens, and I shift to seek out his reaction. But there’s no jealousy, no burning possession—just something tender.
“Let’s go to them,” Kane says, placing his lips to my forehead, my nose, my cheeks, my lips.
I nod against his kisses, beginning to move off his lap, then groan slightly. Every muscle aches in that well-used, well-loved way—the kind that makes me blush if I think about it too long.
But Kane doesn’t give me chance to think, or really move. He’s already standing, with me, holding me like it’s the norm.
Ezekial huffs a quiet laugh, giving me another soft, teasing kiss—then flits.
“I just need the bathroom first,” I mumble, squirming slightly in Kane’s arms, but he doesn’t put me down. “I can walk, Kane.”
He stares at me, not looking at all convinced.
I sigh. “Five minutes of privacy, and I’ll let you carry me again.”
“Three.”
I roll my eyes, but agree with a nod. That earns me the tiniest smirk as he finally sets me down, but he still follows me to the doorway.
“You’re not coming in,” I say sternly, raising my brows for emphasis. He leans against the wall beside the door, watching me even as I shut it.
Inside, I brace for the aftermath of last night. Streaks of smudged mascara, wild hair, the mess between my thighs… but my skin is clean. Even my hair’s been gently gathered at the nape of my neck, twisted into something soft and loose.
They looked after me. Even in sleep.
I stare for a second, heart thudding in a new, fragile rhythm. But instead of embarrassment, I feel… calm. Safe.
Wanted.
Not in a showy way. Not lust or praise or possession. In a way that’s quiet. Laced into the smallest things. Clean skin, a brushed curl, care I didn’t ask for but somehow still crave.
Then my gaze catches on the glint at my throat. The pendant.
I’d felt the weight of it when they clasped it around my neck last night, but seeing it now, resting just below my collarbone, it feels different. More real.
I reach up and touch it, fingers brushing the smooth surface as it hums—its colours swirling, and glowing.
They gave me something I could easily take off, but I won’t.
When I open the door, Kane’s right where I left him. He doesn’t speak. Just steps forwards and lifts me again like it’s inevitable.
I start to protest, just to get a reaction, but the look he gives me shuts it down. Those dark, entrancing eyes. That unspoken mine.
Then he flits.
***
The others are nearby, I feel them even though the hallway is silent.
Kane stops at a door and finally sets me down. I wait for him to speak, to give me something, a hint about the mystery behind it.
I glance back at him, but he says nothing, only nods towards the door with a silent command. One I consider disobeying, just to provoke him.
When I don’t move, he tilts his head slightly. The dark glint in his gaze tells me he knows exactly what I’m doing.
I smile. He shakes his head, arms folding over his chest which flexes his muscles, and raises a brow in challenge. Daring me to continue.
My smile falters as I spin back around, battling the burning blush Kane caused, hoping he didn’t see. But his soft laugh says he did.
I reach out, now eager for the escape, and gently push the door open.
It’s a room. A beautiful room.
Lit by soft, hidden lights and the warm flicker of candles scattered throughout.
I step inside, bare feet brushing sleek, dark floors until they meet a sprawling fur rug, soft and expansive beneath my toes.
A large bed rests against a velvet headboard, layered in soft linen and a thick, moss-green throw. Cushions in charcoal and cream are arranged with careful precision. Deep amethyst threads break through the earth tones, woven and laced into the fabric, glinting when the light hits just right.
Plants drape from exposed wooden beams, vibrant leaves climbing the stone walls, trailing towards the ceiling. Vines twist in quiet symmetry, as if guided by something more than sunlight.
Opposite the bed is a fireplace, black tiles painted with white etchings framing the fire. Above it, a black canvas—chaotic and beautiful. Thick strokes of dark blue and scarlet, broken by streaks of silver and smudges of ink.
Another wall is hidden behind a towering bookcase, made with the kind of wood polished by time. With the kind of books that aren’t printed anymore. Rows of deep red and leather-bound books line the shelves with worn spines, gold-embossed titles and thin sepia pages.
To the right, a wide archway opens into a bathroom.
I step inside and—
There’s a bath. An enormous bath. Sunken into the stone, positioned beside a smoky glass wall that reveals a slice of forest. Just trees and morning light.
The rest of the space seems carved around it. Dark stone veined with green, golden light glancing off polished tiles. A chrome rainfall shower glints behind another wall of black glass.
Back in the main room, opposite the bathroom, there’s another doorway. And inside… a walk-in-wardrobe.
Racks and racks of clothes in deep, dark hues. Styles I’ve never owned but somehow feel like me. A plum velvet chaise sits in the centre, draped in more pieces, some still in boxes, waiting to be unpacked.
I don’t move to touch them. I don’t have to. Just seeing them is enough.
A breeze stirs the candlelight creating a soft crackle, drawing my gaze to the tall glass doors—already open.
The dark wood of the room spills out onto a wide deck, dotted with egg-shaped chairs, low sofas, and a long, wooden table.