Chapter 24 #3
Edwin closed the distance between them, then grabbed my hand and pulled the three of us into a grubby, muddy circle.
He took Trace by the neck and I just knew he was caressing him under the messy fall of his ponytail.
“What part of being here for you didn’t you understand the other day?
We meant what we said at Baxter’s party.
We want this to work between us all. That won’t happen unless we’re in it for the lows as well as the highs.
They’re only flowers, love. We can grow more.
” He pressed a firm, slow kiss to Trace’s stunned mouth.
“I don’t know who in your past made you think you weren’t deserving of respect and love, but fuck ’em.
That’s not me, and not James either. Right, James? ”
I gulped, but managed to stammer an affirmative.
My heart was racing like a greyhound straight out of the gates.
I wanted so much for Edwin to be happy. I could tell having Trace living here would bring him so much joy, but to hear him spell it out when we were standing on the very earth where Trace would be rebuilding his life hammered it home.
This would be his home, as well as mine and Edwin’s.
As a threesome, throuple. Badly wonky triangle of mismatched hearts and minds with a will to bring brighter days to our varied existences.
It was terrifying, and yet nothing had ever felt so right.
I trembled with the enormity of what we were attempting.
Before I could get overwhelmed by the path my thoughts were heading down, Edwin bent his head to mine and took my mouth with the same deliberate thoroughness he’d kissed Trace. I gasped as his tongue licked carefully over my teeth, then connected with my own as if asking if I minded the intrusion.
I didn’t mind. Not at all. Although this was new territory for me as Edwin hadn’t asked me out loud for consent before touching me this way.
I realised he now knew me well enough to have ascertained my eagerness by all the tells he could pick up on with his vampire senses; my breathing rate, heartbeat, even my perspiration levels could apparently clue him in to how receptive I was at any time.
It was still vaguely embarrassing, but I found myself caring less and less as time went on. What mattered was that he wanted me.
I moaned. At least, I think it was me. I felt my body responding to him, unheeding of the filthy state I’d got myself into or how I was mussing up his pristine loveliness. He shuffled me even closer, until the reality of his erection poking my hip made my eyes fly open and my lips part. “I…uh…”
“Okay, love, I’ll stop. I’m sorry. This probably isn’t comfortable for you.” His smile was soft but radiant, with the tiniest hint of teasing. “I didn’t want you to get jealous I was kissing Trace and not you.”
“Idiot,” I grumped at him. But he knew me, and that my confidence was shaky when he was around Trace. “I’m not that fragile.”
“It wouldn’t be a problem if you were. Any decent human being should care about the comfort of someone they l—like as much as I like you.
” He stepped back a pace, instantly making me wish he hadn’t, grinning at Trace.
“These aren’t posh clothes. If I stop to change, you’ll get less working time out of me. Let’s do this.”
We dug a whole new flowerbed under the front wall of the garden where it met the pavement.
Firstly, we had to lift a row of paving stones that had embedded themselves in the soil below as if glued.
Edwin was a machine, freeing and then levering each one up with his bare hands, simply tugging until an edge became loose.
He then assisted Trace and me to clear them of the debris of over twenty years in situ, before lifting each slab as if it weighed nothing and walking them around to their temporary new home inside the garage.
Trace had plans for them if the light in his eyes was any indication.
Next, we needed to improve the soil. Edwin was as competent with a spade as he was with his hands, slicing through the earth to a depth of half a metre or so, breaking up clumps embedded with rocks and stones, making piles that I ran back and forth with, stacking them in a tidy heap in a corner, again according to Trace’s wishes.
Trace and I sieved what felt like a house-sized amount of soil, some of it brought through from the back, until my arms burned with the effort of holding them out, then the three of us worked compost and the extra soil into the broken-up earth that remained after our initial excavations.
I’d initially thought Edwin’s suggestion of binning all the flowers and starting over was the smartest, but as the hours passed and I saw how much we’d achieved, I felt relieved Trace had overruled Edwin’s easy fix.
At some point in the early hours of the following morning though, I took a seat on one of the low walls for a breather and my legs totally refused to stand back up.
“Guys, I think I might need a drink or something.” I’m completely fucked. I hadn’t meant to continue until I was no longer physically able to move, but I could feel myself swaying even sitting down.
Two very guilty-looking men argued over how to care for me.
Edwin was all for sweeping me up in his arms and laying me down in bed, covered as I was in sweat and mud, so he could feed me some of his blood.
I shot him down before he finished his sentence.
His blood turned me on. Now I realised how knackered I was, I wasn’t sure I’d survive getting a hard-on.
I certainly didn’t want to sleep in filthy sheets either.
Trace suggested hydrating me with some magical fuckery which would give me enough energy to move.
I liked his idea much better. Edwin hovered like an anxious mother hen while Trace compiled my drink, holding me upright with scant regard to his clothes.
I sipped at the glass of dubious-looking, plum-coloured liquid Trace brought out to me. This time, the taste reminded me of sherbet, but I was too tired to voice my thoughts. As I drank, Trace asked if he could channel some of his energy to me by touch.
I shrugged. “Do your worst. I think I’m dead. I’ll come back as a zombie. They don’t mind getting dirty, do they?” I giggled, but I couldn’t stop trembling. I worked out I’d forgotten to eat since the toast I’d had when I woke up. That explains a lot.
He placed his hands on my shoulders and said a few words in a language I’d never heard before.
Low and steady, he repeated them a few times like a mantra.
I kept my eyes closed, sipping at the weird concoction in my hands, and felt my trembles slow, then stop.
I didn’t feel as good as after he’d helped my hangover, but not far off.
At least I was pretty sure I’d be able to drag my arse to bed without losing too much of my dignity.
When I’d drained the drink, I opened my eyes to see Edwin watching me intently. “Are you any better? I can still carry you—”
“No you fucking can’t,” I snapped, standing up quickly.
“Edwin, I’m a grown man. Just because you can carry me doesn’t mean you should.
” He drooped like I’d kneed him in the bollocks, but I couldn’t take it back.
I tried to soften the blow. “Look, you take my well-being very seriously and I’m grateful, but I’m just knackered.
I’m not sick or anything.” I turned to Trace.
“Will you help me back to Bluebell please? Just in case I go arse over tit.”
Ignoring Edwin’s hurt expression even though I could feel it like twin knives stinging my shoulder blades, I weaved around the raised beds to the front door with Trace by my side.
I stopped on the step and swung to face him.
“Thank you for the drink. It was weird but it did the trick.” I sighed.
“I’ve really hurt him, haven’t I?” Edwin was on his knees with his back to us, separating clumps of flowers whose roots were too tangled to replant according to Trace.
His answering sigh was all the confirmation I needed. “He’ll get over it. He’s too in love with you to stay mad for long.”
“He’s not in love with me!” I squeaked.
Trace reached out to remove something from my hair.
“Spider,” he grinned, setting it down carefully before straightening back up.
“Of course he’s in love with you, which is why he’s so overbearingly protective.
He’s terrified you’ll break, and because you’re human, well, mostly human, he won’t be able to fix you.
Now,” he did a slow, deliberate down-and-up of me, which sparked a surprised flicker of desire in the pit of my belly, “you need a shower. Then I recommend making yourself a simple sandwich before taking a well-earned nap. You’re a really hard worker, James.
Tonight has been a pleasure. Will you text or call Eddie if you need any help?
If I can promise him that, I might persuade him to stay out here and give you some space. ”
I promised, reluctantly. As soon as the door was closed, I stripped off down to my skin, fed the washing machine, and stumbled to the shower.
I sat on the tray with my legs crossed, allowing the water to pummel my aching body until my fingertips went pruney.
I crawled upright for long enough to mop the worst of the water from my skin and hair, then towelled off and fetched clean underwear.
I attacked my hair with a brush so it didn’t dry standing on end, then dug about in the odds and ends drawer for something to tie it up with.
A thick elastic band did the trick, although it took me three attempts to gather all the ends in.
“Hmm.” I eyed myself in the small mirror.
“You look like a pineapple.” I rearranged it once more.
“Okay, that’s better.” After a lifetime of sharing my living quarters with strangers, it was freeing to wander about with my ears showing.
I peered more closely at my reflection. “They’re…
okay, I suppose. You could be an extra in a Lord of the Rings film.
Except your ears are nicer, I think.” That was new for me, seeing my ears in a positive light.
Maybe meeting Isher had been good for me.
“Take that, Legolas.” I mimed shooting an arrow at an invisible foe, before my rumbling stomach sent me to the kitchen.
I scarfed down a hasty peanut butter sandwich as well as a glass of orange juice, then without even stopping to brush my teeth, flopped into bed and passed out.