The air shifts. It’s like I’ve become the center of gravity in this room, and he’s falling toward me while Mark is forgotten. He studies my face for a beat, then kisses me.
I taste the cold of stainless steel on his lips.
When he pulls back, his forehead stays pressed to mine.
“So. You came to end my offering,” he whispers.
Offering.
Notsession. Notwork.
Offering.
“You’re sure?” he asks.
“I’m sure,” I say.
And there it is… that faint, almost tender disappointment. Out of all three of them, Nathaniel’s the only one who actually cares about the kind of pain he inflicts. Cassian wants justice. Talon wants balance. Nathaniel wants… art.
He’s like a goddamn cat. He just wants to play with his prey.
“I asked Talon and Cassian to stay upstairs while I do it,” I whisper. “I want it quiet. I want it… mine.”
Nathaniel’s lashes lower, that cool, unreadable blue slipping toward shadow. I can feel it, he wants to tell me there are better ways to make Mark pay. That pain is a staircase, and we’ve only climbed two flights while he knows seven.
But he doesn’t say it. He just swallows it down and inclines his head.
“Then it’s yours,” he says evenly. “I’ll do whatever you want.”
A small, stunned warmth opens beneath my ribs at the simplicity of it.
He could argue, bait me into one more hour. Instead, he steps aside.
“Thank you,” I say.
He presses a soft kiss to my temple in reply, and the cat in him recedes. When he turns away, there’s no one left to convince. He wastes no time. He clears his table, sets each tool onto a tray, covers it with a cloth, packs it neatly away. He unhooks two leads from a clamp, coils them, then strips off his gloves, tosses them, and washes his hands in slow circles before drying them.
Just like that, he’s ready to go.
Mark watches all of it with the focus of a trapped animal. His eyes are too large for his face now, whites filmy and red, lids raw at the edges.
“Skye,” he rasps. “Is this really—”
“Stop,” I say.
I don’t want to talk to him. Every word he says just feeds that gnawing inside me until it’s almost unbearable. I know what the feeling is, but I don’t want to admit it.
I just want toendit.
“Do you want me in the room,” Nathaniel asks, “or outside the door?”
“Outside,” I say. “Close enough to hear me if I call. Far enough that it’s… quiet.”
“Understood.” His gaze holds mine. “Skye.” My name leaves his mouth like a prayer. “It’s been an honor to help you. When this is over… I hope you finally rest. You deserve that. I know Cassian and Talon kept you company, but—” a faint smile, almost regretful— “I’ll admit I envied them more than I should have. Even if I did enjoy punishing the one who hurt you.”
Uff. Be still my heart. Now I’ve got even more incentive to finish this.
Two men at once is already a luxury. Three? I’m a sucker for it.
