He could’ve chosen anything. Nothing. A Council seal, or a pretty landscape. But it’s me, just me.
I clutch the tablet closer, easing myself off the sofa with careful steps as I tiptoe between the sleeping men, stealing little glances as I go.
When I finally reach the bedroom door, I open the camera app and snap a photo. The soft shutter sound explodes.
I freeze.
Wide-eyed, breath held, I scan the room full of sleeping men like predators that might pounce.
But they don’t stir. I let out my breath, slowly stepping backwards until I’m finally out of sight.
In the bathroom, I close the door with a quiet click. The cool floor stings against my bare feet, grounding me as I sit on the toilet lid with Zeek’s tablet in hand, staring at the image I’ve taken.
When the screen times out, I scan back in and this time apps appear, which reminds me of what I was doing before I gracefully passed out.
Then what I asked of them. Their favourites.
I find the app Ezekial made for me, which isn’t hard because it’s literally calledJasmine’s Wish List. When it opens, my soft laugh fills the silence.
They’ve done it. Four folders. I tap the first one.
Julien’s is full of luxurious items, fancy cars, decadent food, and countries washed in warm red hues. There are even little notes with French phrases I’m desperate to understand.
Sai’s is… chaotic. I smile. No theme, no order. Instead, endless—copiousimages of food, a dichotomy of countries, beautiful paintings… a motorbike? He’s even added what lookslike a playlist too. Some notes, but mostly fragments, andlotsof emojis.
I open Ezekial’s with a satisfied sigh—it’sperfectly ordered. Folders within folders, subheadings, multiple detailed notes. Some of the images even move, and I lose myself watching a waterfall between snowy mountains.
My fingers hesitate over the last folder, Kane’s, not quite believing he’s done this. I’m even more surprised when I open it.
His folder is small, no scrolling needed, and the images are… familiar. Actually, identical.
They’re all frommyfolder. I frown.
Was it an accident? Had he somehow copied mine by mistake? But the cold sensation creeping in suggests otherwise.
Maybe he thought this whole thing was beneath him. A little too childish. Silly. The cold turns to dread.
We’ve been so intimate… the things he’s said to me. The possessiveness… Yet, I’m always afraid Kane will just switch. He’s always unpredictable. Hot and then so very cold. The flicker of candlelight in a rainstorm.
No. Kanehasbeen clear with his emotions. He’s been trying so hard for me, he doesn’t deserve my self-doubt over this.
It’s just a stupid folder.
I shake myself, locking the tablet and placing it on the edge of the sink as I stand in front of the mirror. I comb my fingers through the kinks and curls of my hair, meeting my gaze in the reflection. As I tilt my head, I notice subtle differences.
It’s like the few colours I have are deeper and more intense. The reds are richer, there’s a higher contrast against my skin. Somehow, I know it’s because of them, because the rune suppressing our bond is eroding, and with each crack it reveals more of me.
Who knows how I’ll feel or look when it’s fully gone. But right now… I feel like more, because I feel them.
My skin flushes. Beyond this flimsy door are four men who I’m bonded to. Even asleep, the calling pulls, tugging me back to them. The giddy, desperate joy it creates is so… unfamiliar.
I laugh softly, splashing water over my hot cheeks, before grabbing the tablet and opening the door—
“Shit!” I gasp, dropping it with a soft thud.
Kane’s right there, on the very threshold. His eyes are a bit too open, likeIstartledhim.
“Kane,” I breathe,pressing a hand to my racing heart.
