Nathaniel is supposed to understand. To operate with me.
“You don’t get it,” I say. “I can’t just lie here and nap through danger like some delicate idiot. If the crows are circling like that, it means something. Something is wrong, and sitting still is the opposite of fixing it. We need to figure out what it is. We need to—”
And then time folds.
Nathaniel pulls, and I find myself falling onto him before I can finish the sentence. His lap swallows my weight, chest steady beneath me, and his arms come around me in this infuriatingly effortless cage of warmth and restraint.
“Shh,” he murmurs, voice liquid calm. “It’s all good.”
My cheek ends up against his neck, where his scent hits me like a drug. I am physically pinned in softness, which is somehow worse than being overpowered by force. At least force I can snarl at.
This?
This feels like being handled.
Who the hell is this man, and what has he done with the Nathaniel I know?
I push against his chest, try to sit up, and fail miserably. The best I manage is twisting enough to glare at Talon sprawled just a few feet away. He’s half-sitting, hair sticking in every direction like he wrestled lightning in his sleep. He shouldn’t look this good ruined, but there he is, unfairly pretty and smirking like he owns the morning.
“Skye,” he drawls, voice low enough to purr. “The birds aren’t getting through these walls. Nathaniel checked three times. And Cassian’s outside with a gun and about six fresh reasons to commit homicide. You think we’re letting anything touch you while you drool on your pillow?”
Heat floods my face.
“I don’t drool,” I mutter.
Talon barks a laugh, dragging a hand through his wrecked copper hair. “Sure you don’t. At least not while you’re sleeping. During or after choking on a cock? Whole different story.”
“Talon!” I yelp.
Nathaniel’s chest shakes under me like he’s suppressing a laugh. His hand draws idle circles down my spine. One slow circle, then another. It does something to me.
“If you act shy,” Nathaniel murmurs, “he’ll only get worse.”
He’s right. Talon’s grin spreads wide.
“What’s the blush for, baby? You do salivate a lot with a cock in your mouth. It was dripping when Cassian pumped your little throat last night.”
I suck in a breath. The memory flashes through me so vividly I can almost taste Cassian again.
He hadn’t given me mercy.
He’d just taken and taken and taken—
and gods help me, the thought makes my pussy throb.
“Don’t change the subject,” I whisper, though it comes out thin, half a breath.
Nathaniel’s thumb slides higher along my spine, then lower, to cup my ass.
My body betrays me instantly. It doesn’t want duty or reason. It wants warmth. It wants them.
“Oh, but how can I not,” Talon drawls, turning toward us, “when all I see is your pretty body getting fucked sideways every time I close my eyes?” He’s positioned to see everything now. Me, my ass, Nathaniel’s hand gripping tight. “So pretty.”
I should shove them both away. I should think about Death, the crows outside. But Nathaniel’s arms hold me too well, and when Talon’s hand lands on my thigh, every protest dies.
“I… just woke up,” I manage.
“Yes, please,” Talon says.
