“It’s a three-day weekend. I have to film too. Whether you think I’m yours or not, I need to make money. You fuck with my money and I fuck you up. I don’t care how scary and deranged you are. I’ll set this cabin on fire and go back to fucking myself in my film room.”
Corwin bursts out laughing. “She’s threatening arson. I like her.”
I bite back a smile. She means it. Every word. But that’s not what hooks me. It’s how she looks saying it. Alive. Not cowed. Not broken. Alive in the middle of three men who could end her if we wanted to. She doesn’t bend. She blazes.
Evander’s smile curves slowly. “So you admit you want to fuck us.”
Her eyes go wide for a second, her breath hitching before she spits it out. “No.”
“Liar.” He steps closer, calm as ever, but there’s something sharp under his voice now. He cups her face, thumb dragging over her jaw. She flinches, but doesn’t pull away. Her eyes shut when he leans down. His lips brush hers, barely there. She whimpers, soft, involuntarily.
Evander’s smile deepens. “So needy for someone who claims to hate us.”
Corwin laughs again, circling like he’s looking for another opening to press. I stay where I am, but my fists tighten at my sides. Because she’s right. She should be in her classroom. She should be in her own bed, not here with us. And yet—when I look at her now, fire blazing in her eyes, mouth parted from Evander’s touch, I know the truth.
She belongs here more than anywhere else.
“We’ll worry about Tuesday when it gets closer,” I rumble. “It’s only Friday night. A lot can happen in a weekend.”
Evander nods, steady. “As for filming. Tell us what you need, and you’ll have it.”
Corwin shoots his hand up like a kid in class. “I volunteer to hold the camera.”
Her laugh is bitter. “I’m supposed to be filming a special set. My boss picked me for the company calendar. October. I was planning on a My Bloody Valentine theme. Can you do that here?”
“No mines around here,” Corwin mutters.
“Same back home,” she says. “I was going to use a crypt.”
We don’t answer. Not about how much we already know. We know she talked and arranged to use a crypt at a cemetery in town.
“There’s an old cemetery,” I say finally. “Other side of the woods. Last burial was ’47. The grass is tall, headstones all cracked. Kids dare each other to sneak in after dark. Could work.”
She tilts her head. “And what, you three just drop me off and let me work?”
“Or,” Corwin grins, “we film with you.”
She laughs, harsh. “You’ve lost your fucking mind.”
Evander doesn’t laugh. He grips her chin, steady, tilting her face up again. “No lies. Truth only. We know how wet you were for us. How you cried. How you clenched around us. You liked it.”
“Fuck you.”
“Oh, I want to,” Evander murmurs, brushing his lips against her again. “No masks this time.”
“I want to taste you,” I growl, low. “Feast on you like the delicacy you are.”
“I want to watch you choke on my cock,” Corwin snaps, no softness anywhere in him.
Her thighs press tight together, betraying her. She goes to speak, but Evander squeezes her cheeks harder. “Only truths, Agatha.”
Her voice cracks but it comes. “I want that too.” Her eyes shut tight. “God, I’m fucked up.”
Evander’s voice is calm, dark, sure. “Not fucked up. Perfect.”
Agatha
“So the cemetery,” I snap, desperate to rip the attention somewhere else. “When?”
