In real life, the salad you ate for dinner so that you wouldn’t look like a pig gives you gas, and then you rip an SBD in the car on the way to the epic doorstep scene you’ve been envisioning in your head all night. He looks at you, you look at him...you both know who tainted the precious air in the car, and screaming,the one who smelt it dealt itjust isn’t going to cut it in that scenario.
Would the four of them be the kind of guys that laugh? Would it become one of many stories over time that bond you and set the foundation for beautiful intimacy? Or would they crack the windows, hold their breath, and peel away with screeching tires just as soon as you’re out of their car, the magic of the night ruined?
We weave through the crowd toward the main house silently. Iceman leads the way, Jerif stays right behind me, while Crux and Echo stay on each side of me. Our movements are in sync, connected by an invisible thread as we part the crowd in search of a peaceful place to just be together.
I’m surrounded by the Gate Guardians’ strength again, and I feel right in a way I was too nervous and insecure to admit before. I have so much I want to talk to them about. I want to make sure they’re okay, run my hands over them to be sure all of this is real. And at the same time, what is there really to say to each other?
We’re all battle forged now, different and tempered, because of what we went through. I feel it. They feel it. No amount of talking can change the charge in the air between us now. We all know what it felt like to think we’d lost it all.
Large demons guard all the entrances that lead into the house. As we get closer, I wonder if they’ll let us in or not. Iceman approaches a set of demons guarding a pair of ostentatious French doors. At first, one of the door demons looks like he’s about to redirect Iceman and crew, but as soon as they spot me in the middle of the group, they quickly open the doors with a respectful nod, letting us inside.
As soon as the doors shut behind us, the noise drops dramatically. My ears ring like I’ve been at a concert in front of the large speakers all night long. I shove a finger in one of my ears and wiggle it like that will help, but I should know better from the gong sound in Hell that it doesn’t.
“Damn, how is half of Hell not deaf? That noise level is crazy out there,” I comment, looking up to find Iceman staring at me intensely.
I open my mouth to ask him what’s wrong, but before I can, he closes the distance between us, cups my cheeks in his hands and lowers his full blue lips to mine.
I’m stunned at first.
My eyes fall closed, and I give into the feeling. His mouth is soft against mine, and he threads his fingers into my hair like every girl dreams a man will at some point in their life, his touch loosening the pony tail as he caresses my scalp. He cradles my jaw like I’m something he finds infinitely precious, and gently tilts my head, encouraging me to open up for him.
I respond immediately, pressing into him, my hands greedily tracing the planes of his abdomen. His mouth claims mine, his kiss asking if I’m okay, his touch reassuring him that I’m here in his arms. I taste him and suck on his lips, teasing his tongue with my own, floored that he needed this as much as I did. With every sweep of his tongue, I can feel that he was just as torn, worried, and relieved to see me as I was to see him.
The need for more begins to build low in my stomach, tingling up into my lips and snaking out into my tongue. But I feel another hand thread through my hair, pulling out the strands until they’re hanging loose at my back. The next thing I know, Iceman’s cool lips pull away and in their place is the taste of masculine, carefree summer air. I don’t need to open my eyes to know it’s now Crux’s mouth fused to mine, confessing wordless emotion. His forked and pierced tongue is very obvious and fills me with excitement.
I can feel his longing and his relief pour into me with each nip of his teeth and stroke of his pierced tongue against mine. Unspoken promises are exchanged between us as he deepens the kiss and stokes a hunger that’s unfurling inside of me like a lotus to the sun.
“Alright already,” Echo declares impatiently, and in a breath, Crux is pulled away from me on a chuckle. Echo’s shadows caress my jaw, guiding my face and eyes to the right, where he’s waiting for me. He doesn’t pull me to him and devour me the way the flash of heat in his eyes says he wants to. Instead, he studies me for a moment, his shadows tracing the planes of my face, like he needs to memorize me in this moment.
“We’re so sorry we almost lost you,” he says quietly.
I shake my head, not liking the blame I can feel he’s holding onto. “It wasn’t your fault. I’m here. I’m okay,” I reassure him.
He nods and steps into me, pressing his forehead against mine, like my words are the balm he’s been in desperate need of. He kisses me, and it’s flavored with the gaping hole in his chest that he felt when he thought I’d been taken. I feel it with every stroke of his shadows as they move against my skin with reverence.
His tongue meets mine, and I can discern panic and loss and worry in his taste. I savor the peace that comes over him as he moves his hands from my waist up the naked skin of my back and consumes me the way his black eyes always promised me he would.
I’m lost to his pull as he kisses me and molds my body to his. He holds me like we were made to fit together and kisses me with a fervor that makes it clear that he’s never going to lose me again.
All at once, Echo pulls away from me and steps to the side, leaving Jerif’s heated body in his wake. I look over at Jerif, my lips pink and tingling, and his gaze holds me captive. He steps closer to me, wrapping his warm hands around my waist, and I don’t miss the shiver that runs through him as he presses me against him. I see passion in his fiery eyes, but I also see fear and vulnerability.
I wrap my hands around the back of his neck a little shyly, trying to get used to the feel of him in my arms. I’m not sure how to react to his proximity and willingness. There’s a momentary stiffness between us, like we’re both asking each other with our bodies if this is okay. Was the loss and sadness we felt as we watched each other almost die true? Are we ready to embrace the realizations we felt in those moments that, thankfully, weren’t our last?
What happened in the Vestibule changed everything. It opened my eyes and made room for my wants in a staggering way. I can feel Jerif’s hand gently rub my lower back, and I know that what happened changed how he sees things too.
Not wanting to waste another second, I wrap my palm around the back of his neck and pull him down to me. I kiss him softly, tentatively. I brush my lips against his, letting our mouths get familiar, giving him time to think about what this means and changes between us. I expect his kisses to slowly grow more confident and for us to find our rhythm together, but instead, he shocks the hell out of me by running his fingers up my sides and tracing the curves of my breasts with his thumbs.
I gasp, and as soon as my lips part, he claims my mouth with such conviction that I can feel the scorching possession of it. There’s no going back now. His tongue teases mine, telling me that he’s beyond okay with it. It was torture to watch him sacrifice himself for me, but the violent need I taste between us speaks volumes about what we’ve both survived and what we plan to do with the time together we now have.
I pull away with a smile, and his lips chase mine. “I’m going to have so much fun hate fucking you,” I joke, and his lips slowly spread into a grin.
“Not as much fun as I’m going to have purposely pissing you off so that youwillhate fuck me,” he teases against my lips, and I tip my head back and laugh.
I step away from him and look around, noting the guys’ hungry gazes as each one of them watches me. Their need permeates the air all around us, and I stare, overwhelmed and suddenly at a loss for words. I knew that claiming them before was a risk. That it would change the dynamic between us for better or worse, but I had to do it. I needed to own the realization that I came to when I thought I had lost them. I just didn’t realize that they would all be so willing to claim me right back. It sends a thrill through me.
Behind us, the French doors open suddenly, making me jump. Sound and light spills into the darkened hallway, and the bronze-winged Abdicated from dinner walks inside. His presence interrupts the very intimate moment we were just having, and judging by the smirk on his face, he knows it.
His jewelry jingles as he takes us in, his fingertips stroking over his gold armor before twirling the rings on his fingers. “Ah, we wondered where you lot had gotten off to,” he states, taking all of us in and breathing deeply like he’s scenting the room. “If you’re looking for a bit more privacy, might I suggest the third floor? Eighth room on the right. Or, if you want a more romantic setting, try the eleventh door on the left. I’ll tell Taz you all are dancing. Should give you plenty of time.”
