Euan. He sounded like a malfunctioning droid.
"System is fucked, mate," I whispered back, my voice a croak. "I think my hip is dislocated."
"Movement detected," Euan mumbled, shifting. He groaned, a low, pained sound. "Hydration levels critical. Muscle fatigue... extreme."
Zia stirred on my chest. She made a small, unhappy noise, scrunching her nose up. Her hand, which had been fisted in the sheets, drifted up to swat blindly at my face.
"Quiet," she slurred. "Too loud. Turn down the gain."
I caught her hand. I brought it to my lips, kissing the bruised knuckles, then the ink of the fox tail on her wrist.
"Morning, fox," I whispered against her skin. "Or afternoon. Or Tuesday. Not sure which."
She peeled one eye open. It was glossy, unfocused. She looked at me, then at the ceiling, then tried to push herself up.
She failed. Her arms shook, and she collapsed back onto me with a huff.
"My bones have been stolen," she announced. "I am a jellyfish."
"You're a producer who just ran a three-day ultra-marathon," Kit’s voice rumbled from behind me. He didn't move, but his arm tightened around my waist, pulling the entire pile closer together. "Stop wriggling. You'll wake the drummer."
"You are awake," I pointed out.
"Physically, yes. Spiritually, I am still in the void." Kit buried his face in the back of my neck, his stubble scratching my skin. "God, the smell in here. It’s like a pheromone factory exploded."
"It smells like victory," I said, grinning at the ceiling.
"It smells like we need to open a window and burn some sage," Zia muttered. She rolled off my chest, wincing as she moved. She landed in the space between me and Euan, instantly cocooned by Euan’s long limbs.
She looked at us. Really looked at us.
I felt exposed. The last few days had been a blur of instinct.Bite here. Hold this. Harder. Softer. Good girl.I had poured every ounce of devotion I possessed into this room. Now, in the cold light of post-heat clarity, I was terrified she’d look at me and see a mistake.
She reached out. Her hand brushed my cheek, her thumb tracing the split in my lip where she’d bitten me in a frenzy somewhere around hour thirty.
"Alfie," she whispered.
"Yeah, love?"
"You look terrible."
I laughed, a wet, hacking sound. "Cheers. You look like a car crash."
"A sexy car crash?"
"The sexiest," I promised. "A pile-up on the M1 of pure beauty."
Euan finally managed to sit up. He scrubbed his hands over his face, his hair sticking up in wild tufts. He looked at Zia with a clinical, intense focus that made my stomach flip. He reached out, checking her pulse, putting a hand to her forehead.
"Fever broke," he noted, his voice thick. "Skin temperature normal. How is the pain level?"
"Manageable," Zia said, stretching a leg out and grimacing. "Sore. Everywhere. But... quiet. The noise in my head stopped."
"Good," Kit said. He sat up, the duvet falling to his waist. His chest was a map of scratches and bite marks. We were all marked. I had a bruise on my hip shaped exactly like Zia’s heel. "That means it’s over. The cycle is done."
The reality of that sentence hung in the room.
It's over.
