Watching them spar, drenched in sweat, breathing heavily… Aerin can feel her heartbeat between her legs. They look perfect together, so opposite that they fit seamlessly.
Aerin has yet to have either of them. Despite this her panties dampen as she considers all the ways the two of them could work together to take her apart. She knows how Emrys used to have sex, eager and uninhibited. She knows Malice will be different, wholly in control of himself and her. Both possessive and powerful.
Crossing her legs to ease some of the ache Aerin lifts her eyes back to the males. She is surprised to see the sparring paused, both men staring at her.
“Anything to share with the group, Princess?” Malice mocks, ticking an eyebrow up at her.
Aerin smirks. “Just thinking about how I get to see my favorite Jaguar tonight.”
Malice clenches his fists, his nostrils flaring. Emrys looks confused, not understanding the reference that gets under the Dragon-Fae’s skin so easily.
“He knows exactly how to use his claws,” Aerin adds with a grin, tapping her bottom lip with her finger. Malice grinds his teeth while Emrys watches her lips.
The door on the far side of the gym pushes open, loud laughter snapping them out of their banter. Aerin collects her things before the blonde-haired Fae makes it inside. Malice snatches the gloves off Emrys and tosses them into the dirty bin. Emrys catches the hint and pulls his shirt on over his sweaty torso.
Just inside the doors, Bruin freezes, his eyes running over the three of them. His interest piques on Emrys before settling on Aerin. Malice walks past him, jerking the door open. Emrys leaves first. As Aerin passes her brother, he grabs her arm.
“Come on, Rin, you can’t stay mad at me forever,” Bruin pleads.
When Aerin looks in his golden eyes, identical to hers, she’s a kid again. She’s upset with him. He’s easily forgiven. She takes his hand again. They race down the halls. He protects her from their father. He’s her whole world.
Malice rumbles low. Meanwhile, Emrys’s apprehension surges through their shared magic. Aerin blocks them both out, having enough trouble dealing with her own emotions.
“You’ve always known it was me or him,” Aerin whispers. Bruin drops her arm.
“You don’t understand, Aerin, and you won’t even let me explain,” he tries.
Aerin misses him, desperately, violently. But her feelings don’t change anything.
“I’m not interested in your excuses.”
Emrys holds out a hand, and Aerin takes it, following him outside. Malice lets the door shut behind them, Bruin firmly on the other side.
By Thursday Aerinhas somehow managed to avoid alone time with both of her bonded-mates. Each day they go to the gym before sneaking into Echelon. Vyx came through with a swipe card allowing them access to the usually restricted archive. Aerin doesn’t ask questions like where it came from, who it previously belonged to, or how Vyx got her hands on it. All that mattersis that it works. And because Echelon is inside the VCU library, Father is none-the-wiser.
Malice goes with Aerin to Echelon each day, shifting through texts for anything that explains her abnormal Wolf magic or the blood-bond while Emrys stays behind at the apartment, finding it harder to maintain his Fae form for such long periods of time. In the evenings, Aerin busies herself at nightclubs or openings or other outings Quinn comes up with. She keeps her face in the press, and article after article is pumped out, just like they planned.
Her night at Tower 77 has been the most eventful so far. Watching Malice grind his teeth and practically turn green with jealousy while she talks to Marcus is the highlight of her week. But, no matter how jealous he acts or how tempting Aerin tries to be, Malice doesn’t cross any lines. Aerin sure as hell isn’t crossing them. She refuses to be rejected by him again. So far, the blood-bond seems stable and that’s what she needs to prioritize, not the desire that seems to grow more desperate every day.
Even if she’s cum to the memory of him twice this week.
Now, as they approach the tube station, Malice’s gaze seers her skin as she tosses her hair over her shoulder for the photographers. A few tabloids caught wind that Aerin Tolvare was seen with her personal guard, towing suitcases towards the tube station. The photographers are held back by a partition as Malice reaches around Aerin to hand the guards a stack of identification cards. Vyx studies her nails, Quinn types ferociously on her phone. Emrys stands stock still next to Aerin, who is hanging off his arm, her head leaning against him in an obvious embrace.
The tabloids picked up the story of Aerin and her new toy. They’ve been pictured together every night this week, though no one has been able to name Emrys. Now Aerin keeps up the show,running her hand up and down his arm, while he holds back fear that his identification won’t pass inspection. They went over it a thousand times, explored every contingency if they somehow don’t pass this checkpoint. But Aerin has the best counterfeit in Novhelm at her disposal, and if it doesn’t pass inspection, the Shifter will have a hell of a lot to answer to.
Quinn makes a displeased sound as the officer flips to the next card, looking up to Emrys as he does.
“These Zeneith clubs are acting like the actualPrincess of Valtarawon’t be passing through their doors in a matter of hours.” She stamps a foot and huffs, furiously typing on her phone again. The officer eyes her. Vyx snaps her bubble gum. Malice shakes out his wings. The guard gives him a wary look.
Aerin looks over her shoulder at the Viper. “Just send the list of requests to the Prince; his staff will take care of it.”
“Gods, I can’t wait to sink my teeth into some beefy ice Fae tonight,” Vyx announces, holding out her hands to look at her pristine, deadly sharp nails.
The guard eyes her again, switching to a new card.
“What?” she snaps at him. “Can you get on with this already? It isn’t like you don’t know who we are,” she hisses. He flips to the next card.
“Just doing my job, miss,” he says, glancing down and then back over to Malice. It must be his card. Though there is no misidentifying him, wings and all.
