“You’re not running into danger alone again,” I murmur. “Not when you have a team. Not when you have us.”
She shudders violently.
“Now,” I say gently, “you come.”
And she does; shaking, gasping, moaning as her whole body flexes and collapses. Penelope’s pussy grips my fingers like a vise while I rub that spot inside of her she loves.
Penelope cries out, choked and ragged.
Silas kisses her shoulder.
She folds into the sheets, breathing like she just ran a marathon.
I glance at Talon.
“You did good,” I tell him. “Now come here.”
He stands, smoothing his palms down his thighs, eyes flicking to her then away, then back again.
Penelope lifts her head, eyes softening when she sees him approach. Silas shifts, making room. And Talon kneels by the bed, touches her cheek with trembling fingers, and whispers. “I can share. I want you, all of you. However you’ll have me.”
She smiles and pulls him in for a slow kiss.
Silas and I exchange a look. This is it. The moment the four of us become something real. Something permanent. Something dangerous and unstoppable. Something like a family.
Chapter Thirty-Two
TALON
I wakeup at Gideon’s with my neck screaming and a throw pillow trying to suffocate me. The couch is comfortable for a couch, but my spine still feels like I lost a fight with a washing machine on the rinse cycle.
For a second, I forget why I’m here.
Then last night hits.
Penelope’s voice shaking when she repeated my mom’s text.
Stepdaughter is getting pushy. No one can know what Minxy saw the night with Todd. Todd will lead to Dominic, and that cannot happen.
My father’s name in my mom’s secrets feels like a stain.
I scrub a hand over my face and sit up slowly. The place smells like coffee and laundry detergent and something faintly sweet that is definitely Penelope’s shampoo. It’s almost cozy if I pretend my world isn’t on fire.
Voices murmur from the kitchen.
I push to my feet and follow the smell of coffee.
Penelope stands by the counter in one of Gideon’s shirts, this one black and hanging off one shoulder like some kind ofpersonal attack. Her hair is in a messy knot, damp at the ends. Silas is at the stove, moving a pan with way too much focus. Gideon is at the table again, laptop open, eyes already narrowed like he is hunting something.
All three of them look up when I walk in.
“Hey,” Penelope says softly.
Her voice is normal, but her eyes are swollen at the edges. She cried after I passed out. I know it without asking.
“Hey,” I answer, reaching for a mug. “Anyone dead yet, or are we saving that for tomorrow?”
Gideon snorts into his coffee. “Dark humor before eggs. Healthy sign.”
