When I lean down to kiss Archer, Dare palms my ass, sliding one hand over the arched curve of my spine. “That’s it, moonlight. Let him feel what I’m doing to you. Let him feel just how much you love it.”
And I do. I plunge my tongue into Archer’s mouth, kissing him almost desperately as pleasure crashes through me again. And when I come hard around Dare’s cock, he follows me over the edge, cursing in a low voice as he digs his fingers into my hips.
We collapse forward a little, and I find myself in a sandwich that feels like it’s made of pure muscle, pressed tightly between my two mates’ bodies. I can tell Dare is trying to hold some of his weight off of me, but he doesn’t need to. This has to be one of the best things I’ve ever felt.
The room is quiet for a long moment as we all breathe heavily. Then Archer’s chest vibrates beneath me as he speaks.
“Did we tire you out enough?”
I chuckle against his skin, a warm and happy feeling spreading through me like honey. “Yeah.”
“Good.”
He presses a kiss to my hair as Dare pulls out of me and rolls over onto the mattress beside us. Then he turns onto his side too, depositing me gently on the bed between them. One hand tucks a lock of wild blonde hair behind my ear, and my eyelids droop as his fingertips brush my cheek.
My earlier argument about tiring each other out was mostly just an excuse to have sex with the two of them, but I realize now that I was more right than I realized. Tension is draining out of my muscles, and as Dare reaches out to turn the bedside lamp off, my eyelids droop closed. I’m vaguely aware of the two of them cleaning me up and crawling beneath the covers with me, but sleep is already tugging at me.
Then it wraps me in a blanket of darkness and pulls me under.
20
Sable
When I open my eyes the next morning, I feel better. Physically stronger and much more refreshed—but mentally, I’m still worried and anxious. That moment last night with Dare and Archer was a nice break from reality, and was exactly what I needed to let go of my swirling emotions and thoughts for a short time. But in the harsh light of day, that bit of peace feels like it was ages ago.
Too bad I can’t just have sex with my mates all day, every day. Life would feel infinitely easier that way.
Archer is gone, and Dare is on watch beside the bed when I wake up. He’s clearly been awake a while—his messy black hair is still wet from a shower, he’s wearing clean clothes, and he’s clutching a steaming mug of coffee.
“Did I explode?” I ask him, my voice a mumble with my cheek pressed against the pillow.
He shakes his head. “Archer saw your scars go black late in the night, but otherwise, you slept peacefully.”
I push away from the mattress and sit up to shove my tangled mess of blonde hair out of my face. “One day, you won’t have to monitor my sleep like I’m a ticking time bomb.”
Dare reaches out and touches my face with affection in his eyes, then he offers me his coffee. “One day, you won’t be a ticking time bomb.”
God, I hope that’s true.
After my own shower and another cup of coffee, I spend another few hours practicing magic in the backyard. Then Archer, Dare, and I set out to meet with Malcolm.
Archer’s father lives in one of the larger homes in the village just a few streets over from his son. On my first visit to meet Malcolm, the house was dark and shadowy, all the drapes closed as if someone was trying to keep the sickness from being seen.
Now though, the curtains are open everywhere—in the small front room, in the dining room, even in Malcolm’s bedroom. Hope, the alpha’s live-in caregiver, is at his side with a bottle of water and a smile when we enter, and she greets us kindly. She’s older than Archer, though not quite Malcolm’s age despite the sprinkle of gray in her brunette hair, and she’s wearing a fresh set of pale blue scrubs.
Malcolm beams at me from his hospital bed. He’s angled up and toward the window beside his bed, as if he’s on the lookout—protecting his pack as best he can, I guess. “Sable! It’s so wonderful to see you.”
I give Malcolm a small hug, careful not to hurt him. It’s obvious to look at him that he used to be a big, burly man, but his illness has wiped that away from him. Now, he’s thin and frail, his skin tinged with yellow and his cheeks gaunt. But it sure doesn’t affect his smile.
“Any news?” Malcolm asks Archer as I step away from the bed.
“Not yet.” Archer’s tone is grave. “We expect them back any moment.”
Malcolm shakes his head and sighs. “I still don’t understand why the witches would come here first. The North pack has more property, and the West Pack has more money.”
I glance at Archer to see his cheeks tinged with pink, and I realize he didn’t tell his dad what Cleo said about the East Pack being the weakest. It’s sweet how he does his best to protect his father from the harsh realities. Malcolm’s weak enough without needing to hear that the witches think his pack is easy pickings. Not to mention, he’d likely blame himself for not being strong enough to protect them all, when he has no control over his failing health.
Not for the first
