“I’ve wanted to do it forever,” I said.
The slightest inhale of breath reminded me that we weren’t alone. We broke apart, both of us turning to face Caitlyn.
My cock pulsed against Blaise’s, restrained by the fabric between us, as I took in the way her bottom lip was caught between her teeth. The way her chest rose and fell in quick, rapid beats, as if her breath was trying to match her thundering heartbeat. The way she took us in, her honeysuckle-heavy desire flooding the room.
Our mate was incredibly turned on by the sight of us.
And suddenly, I wanted nothing more than to taste that desire on my lips.
Her cheeks flushed when she realized we were watching her, but she didn’t look away.
Blaise’s voice was dark and coaxing, desire threading every word. “Do you want to join us, Caitlyn,” he asked softly, “or would you rather watch?”
“Both,” was all she managed.
Blaise pressed a light kiss to my lips before easing himself off me and rising to his feet. He held a hand out to Caitlyn and then to me.
“Then let’s show you to our bedroom.”
Chapter 24. Ambrose
Unfortunately for all of us, my body had very definite opinions about its current limits, and those limits meant we moved through the house at a snail’s pace. Whatever electric, barely contained sexual tension we’d built up was left simmering back in the kitchen.
Blaise stayed close, one hand steadying my elbow, the other warm and grounding against my back, while Caitlyn filled the time by giving me a breathless, slightly chaotic tour of the house.
I was grateful for it.
Not just for the distraction as my body moved slowly through the house, but because I was an early riser by nature, and absolutely the type to explore every nook and cranny when dropped into a beautiful, if deeply unsettling, new home.
First was the greenhouse, where Caitlyn proudly pointed out her carnivorous plant named Mordi, whom she addressed with the fondness of a doting parent. Beneath it sat a pile of slimy bones. Mordi quivered at the sight of me in a way that felt as though it were considering whether a six-and-a-half-foot incubus might fit in its maw. Caitlyn didn’t seem to notice.
The living room, as I’d noticed earlier, had clearly been arranged for an evening spent tangled together on the couch, the first episode ofHexes at Noon—Blaise’s favorite show, and apparently Caitlyn’s too—queued up on the laptop. There was a dining room, a snug, and an eerily empty room with a large blood-like stain on the floor, and then the upstairs landing, which continued the house’s dedication to taxidermy, dark wood paneling, and the distinct sensation of being watched.
The bathroom stopped me in my tracks—all claw-footed elegance and Victorian charm—and I immediately filed away plans for averylong bath at some point in the near future.
The attic door stood out for all the wrong reasons. Knee-high scratch marks scored the wood, and the brass knob was dull where every other handle in the house gleamed from use. It radiated a firm, magicalDo not enter. Caitlyn confirmed it was Creep’s room—a strict no-go area where she only half-jokingly speculated the bodies were hidden.
A handful of spare bedrooms lined the corridor after that.
Then, finally, we stopped at the last door.
“And this,” Blaise said, wrapping his fingers around the doorknob, twisting it, and swinging the door open, “is our bedroom.”
Ourbedroom.
The words sent static skittering over my skin. How many times had I lain alone in my room in our old apartment, wishing for anourroom?
And our room was stunning.
Like the rest of the house, it was paneled in dark wood, faded, muted floral wallpaper stretching between the panels and the ceiling. Decorative tables and chests of drawers lined the walls, and plush chairs were tucked into every corner—many of them burdened with careless piles of discarded clothes belonging to both Caitlyn and Blaise. My fingers itched to fold them all properly, to put things in order, but that would have to wait until morning—until I had my strength back.
As if to remind me that my obsessive-compulsive cleaning instincts were firmly off the cards for tonight, my knees wobbled, forcing me to reach back and steady myself on the nightstand. Both Caitlyn and Blaise made a subconscious move toward me, only stopping when I lifted a hand to show I was fine.
From my position at the nightstand, I had a perfect view of the bed.
It wasenormous. The four posters rose almost to the ceiling, their dark wood carved with subtle, curling motifs worn smoothby time. Heavy drapes framed a mattress, layered high with quilts and pillows, clearly built for bodies meant to sprawl, tangle, and linger rather than sleep politely at opposite edges.
“Don’t be fooled by the size of the bed,” Blaise said, amusement lacing his tone as he jerked his head toward Caitlyn. “Get used to sleeping on the edge. This one likes to starfish. And there’snoescaping the snoring.”
