I don’t like this. I like her spitting fire with those scorching glares.
“Red, what do you mean—”
“I’ve got a coconut lat—”
If Red’s fingers didn’t flex around mine as the fucking apron-prick repeats her order, I’d have fried him.
Her smile turns a tad sly, like she knows exactly how I feel. Of course she does, she’s an empath. And she’s teasing me with it, thanking that prick a little too nicely as he drops a tray of six coffees onto the counter and bolts.
Good. Run.
Then my eyes drop back to Red, and the six cups lined up in front of her. Did she forget I don’t do caffeine? Julien banned me from it. But there’s still one extra…
“You and Kacey both get a decaf.” She smirks, then takes the one labelled coconut latte in her hands.
She’s kind as hell, always thinking of others, even now when she’s teasing.
And that’s a problem. Because I don’t want to talk about everyone else, I want to talk about her.
“What did you mean before?” I won’t let it drop. She sounded so uncertain and I hateit. “Would we only be yours? What did you mean?”
“It doesn’t matter, really.” She takes a sip, and my eyes latch onto the way her soft pink lips press against the white lid.
Like fuck I’m letting this go. My markings flare, pulsing a deep hum through her skin. Her mouth parts, eyes racing back to mine.
That’s it, baby—look at me.
“Speak to me, Red,” I murmur, taking the coffee from her grip and setting it down. “Tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”
Our connected hands hang between us, my thumb brushing over hers.
“It just doesn’t seem... logistical,” she says softly, staring down at our hands. “Hypothetically, if we were ever to become more than justfriends.”
Hypothetically my blue ass, it’s a fact—inevitable—but when she looks at me, I know I need to behave.
I’ll play this hypothetical game for her.
“There’s four of you and one of me,” she states, and I’m still waiting to hear the kicker. She frowns. “How would that be fair? That I would have the four of you, and you would have to—I mean you wouldn’t have to… but I guess the whole point is you’d...”
“Share.” That’s the word she couldn’t choke out.
She shakes her head, long, silky red strands swaying. My fingers twitch.
“And what, you’re just finewith that?” she says, her face filled with angry confusion.
Why is she angry about this? Doesn’t she get it? There’s no one elsebuther.
“Ba—” I catch myself,just. “Red, you know I’m a fae. Dark or light, we’re all selfish fuckers. We’re all about multiple lovers, polyamory, it’s practically in my DNA to share.”
And I know how to share well.
But as I wait for her response, I realise fast that I’ve fucked up. The shadows grow a little too big, the ones created by our bodies slinking inwards. Towards us.
Uh oh.
“Oh. So, you’ve all done this before? Shared someone before?” Why do her questions sound like a trap? Like no matter what I say, she’s going to scald me with those burning eyes?
How the hell do I say I’ve got no clue what the brothers have done, but me and Julien… we’ve got plenty of practice when it comes to sharing.
