They could not be three more different men, either. Brogan makes me feel like we’ve been friends for years, he’s just so relaxed and chilled out and I feel like we're naturally on the same page about a lot of things because we have similar upbeat natures. While Soren gives off a whole iceman vibe, I sense that he’s got a lot going on underneath his controlled exterior. And then there’s Finn. I’ve spent the least amount of time with him, and for all of that, he was naked. The look that he gave me—like I was the answer to all of his prayers—made my heart flutter.
Meanwhile, my vagina is doing a little happy dance at the thought of all three of them, complete with gimme gimme grabby hands.
Messrs Fire and Ice and I guess Brogan would be Mr. Chill? Although that gives me visions of a dick wearing sunglasses, which makes me chuckle to myself but isn’t the sexiest of imagery. Maybe we’ll save the nicknames for later.
I’ve decided just to roll with things. If fate has hooked me up with three gorgeous guys, then I won’t argue.
I take a quick shower, stealing one of Brogan’s t-shirts and slipping into clean underwear from my duffel bag along with my jeans. I don’t so much need his shirt since I brought enough of my stuff with me, but I have a weird desire to be surrounded by his scent, which is a recent development that I’m guessing is all part of the mate bond. Either that or I’ve gone off the deep end.
My hair is even more of a disaster than usual today and I don’t have time to try to wash and tame it since that seems to only piss it off further. Seriously, sometimes it’s like having a feral cat living on top of my head, so I just tie a scarf around it to keep it off my face and leave it at that.
By the time I clamber down the ladder to Brogan’s kitchen—conscious of his eyes on my ass the whole way down—he’s poured me a coffee and has breakfast waiting. He kisses me on the cheek and I blush at the gentle affection he throws my way at every opportunity.
“Morning, babe,” he whispers, and I shiver. It’s the sweetest dang greeting I think I’ve ever had.
“Morning,” I say. “Thanks for letting me commandeer your bed.”
“You’re welcome to anything of mine, babe.” He grins, nuzzling my neck slightly. “I have to say, having you dressed in my clothes and knowing that you slept surrounded by my scent is going to leave me half-hard all day.”
I blink, wondering if the mate thing is responsible for removing the usual coyness or uncertainty that comes with first meeting someone… or if it’s just that Brogan’s supremely confident in himself. Either way, that sounds painful.
“I can get changed if…”
“No, no, please don’t. Having my mate here, smelling like me and eating food that I’ve provided for her, it’s a dream come true.”
There goes my heart, splattered into a puddle of goo. Even though part of me feels like a traitor to Jet for not blanching at how something inside me zings every time one of them uses that word. If I don’t rail against the idea that we should be magically perfect for each other just because some higher power decided so, then I’m weak or giving up my free will. Or just because some weaver got it into their head to play puppet-master and tweak a few strings they shouldn’t have been fiddling with.
“We’ll get you your own space… I mean, if you decide you want to stay and consider accepting the bond with us. I know it’s not a given and I don’t want you to feel you don’t have a choice or are being pushed into anything.” He rubs the back of his neck nervously and I can’t help pulling him into a hug, even if we’re both sitting and it’s a bit of an awkward side-hug situation. He nuzzles against my neck again with a little sigh.
“If you want your own space, just let me know. We can get somewhere made just for you, which wouldn’t take too long, but like I say, there’s no rush. I don’t want you to feel pressured, and I’m just going to shut up talking now.”
It’s something I haven’t thought about… obviously, considering I only found out about the whole mate thing yesterday. But accepting the bond, being mated, I guess that means I would live here with them all.
I’d have to leave Jet, but maybe we’ll be splitting up permanently soon enough anyway, once we find Wren and Jet gets her favor and can move on to a life that’ll make her happier.
What if I get placed somewhere else, though? I know that Madame’s favors are finite and, clearly, I can’t explain about the mate bond to her. But maybe I could fill their destiny weaver’s role here in the garden. Sugar lumps and shitstorms. I really need to find out what happened to their current destiny weaver. Is she sick or on vacation or did she disappear like Wren? Because it doesn’t matter if these guys are my mates or not, I won’t be joining them here if they’ve got a history of disappearing weavers. Maybe they’re all secretly part of a cult where they like eating weaver brains or something.
Let’s hope not.
“You up for meeting Finn again this morning, gorgeous? Hopefully, this time he’ll be wearing more clothes.”
“Sure,” I say, taking a massive swig of coffee and humming happily into my mug. “I want to talk to Camellia again first, though, since she and Wren spent so much time together.”
I’m not sure when I turned into the lead detective on this case. I’m pretty sure Madame only invited me in so that I could be the taxi service for Soren, but I can’t help myself.
Brogan nods, crunching on bacon and nodding toward my plate to encourage me to eat. “Good plan, babe. Have you still got the address Leif gave you for where Wren used to live? We could drop by after lunch.”
I nod and pat my pocket. Breakfast first, then Camellia, then meet up with my other mates and head to see Wren’s old life. Sounds like a plan.
Too bad it gets derailed.
???
It’s still just me and Brogan as we head over to Camellia’s little hut. I wonder briefly about picking up Soren, or at least checking on him and Finn, to see if they’ve killed each other considering the barely restrained animosity they were showing yesterday. But Brogan convinced me it was better to leave them a while longer.
I can’t tell if he just wants me all to himself for a little while longer, although that’s not a bad thing in my book.
Camellia is sitting alone in the half dark and seems surprised when we both rock up and start asking questions. I don’t know why, but she seems a little nervous or uncomfortable.
