His mouth covers mine, and I make a sound I’m going to pretend never happened—something between a groan and a whimper that vibrates through my whole chest. His kiss is slow, thorough, like he’s been planning exactly how he wants to take me apart and now he finally has permission.
Finally.
The word ricochets through my skull. Finally finally finally.
Kaia’s breath hitches beside us. I feel it more than hear it—the sharp little intake that means she’s watching. My chaos magicsparks under my skin, responding to the heat building between all three of us.
Malrik breaks the kiss just enough to speak against my mouth. “Breathe, Finn.”
“I’m breathing,” I manage. “I’m definitely breathing. Breathing is happening.”
“You’re vibrating.”
“That’s just my personality.”
He laughs—low, warm, barely more than an exhale—and then his other hand reaches past me. Toward her.
Kaia’s fingers find his, and I watch them intertwine. Watch the way her whole body shudders at the contact. Watch her violet eyes go dark with want.
Gods, look at her.
She’s so fucking beautiful it hurts. Water droplets clinging to her shoulders, golden hair plastered against her neck, lips parted just enough to show she’s as wrecked as I am. Her shadows curl lazily around all three of us—Bob has very pointedly turned his back, Patricia’s notebook is dark for once, and the Eds have retreated to a respectful distance.
Smart shadows.
“You two,” Kaia breathes, her voice rough. “You’re—”
“Yes,” Malrik says simply.
“Together?”
“Yes.”
She stares at us. At the way I’m still pressed close to Malrik, his hand on my jaw, mine somehow on his chest without me remembering putting it there. At the way he’s reaching for her at the same time, like he can’t imagine having one of us without the other.
“Both of you?” Her voice cracks slightly. “At the same time?”
“That’s generally how threesomes work, Trouble.”
I regret the joke immediately. Not because it’s wrong, but because her eyes snap to mine with something so raw and vulnerable that my heart does something painful in my chest.
“I’ve never—” She stops. Swallows. “I don’t know how to—”
“You don’t have to know anything.” Malrik’s voice is steady. Anchoring. The calm center in a storm we’re all feeling. “Just tell us what you want.”
What she wants.
Such a simple question. Such a loaded one.
I watch her process it—the way her brow furrows, the way her teeth catch her lower lip, the way her shadows flutter with nervous energy. She’s not confused. I know that. She knows exactly who she wants, has known for longer than any of us admitted.
She’s just… overwhelmed.
Join the fucking club.
“I want—” She exhales shakily. “I want to stop thinking so much.”
Something cracks in my chest. A feeling so big I can’t name it. Want and relief and desperation and a protective fury that she’s ever had to worry at all, that the world hasn’t been kinder to her, that we haven’t been—
