He’s standing over me now.
Too close. Too amused.
I am having a full internal systems failure.
“Umm…boys…are we interrupting something?” Mac’s voice cuts in.
I exhale like I’ve just been granted parole.
Thank God.
“Yeah, I think in that case, Trey would be the gay one,” Chace says immediately. “Logan can suck dick and still be straight. He’s the Chuck Norris of straight. R.I.P.”
“Guys,” I say quickly, trying to recover my dignity from the lounger. “I was joking.”
They all look at me.
“But, Trey,” Logan says, flashing his panty dropping smile, still hovering there, “I thought you wanted me to save your life.”
And that’s how Logan became the heartthrob…the groups certified panty dropper. Or he was. Until Mac.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Seraphina
STILL INTO YOU DRILL – DRILL GATES
Iwake with a start, half panicked, the early morning light is just beginning to spill through the curtains, soft and pale gold, filling the room with tranquility.
Breathe, Seraphina. Breathe.
Trey is asleep beside me, on his front. His face is relaxed in a way I rarely get to see when he’s awake—unguarded, peaceful, almost boyish in the absence of all the noise he carries.
I watch him. I always watch him. It brings me more joy than I probably deserve. I wonder if he can feel my eyes on him the way I feel his when he lavishes me with his attention.
My nightmare fades—its claws not sunk as deep this time, no lingering aftershocks. Maybe it’s the familiarity. I only had a few outings in Vegas, and each one was overwhelming. From being sneaked into hidden rooms on secret floors to spaces suddenly filling with guards, rarely a familiar face in sight.
Trey’s dark lashes rest against his cheeks. There’s a faint shadow along his jaw, rough and unshaven, and a strand of dark hair has fallen forward over one eye, soft and stubborn, like it refuses to behave. Something in me aches to reach out and brush it back.
Instead, I just smile.
Because this man, this man who thinks he is somehow less than what he is…he is a fool.He is everything and more.
Trey is selfless in the way he gives without keeping score. Fierce in the way he protects without hesitation. Broken in places, maybe, but he still chooses to love. Still chooses me.
He doesn’t see it.
But I do.
Carefully, I shift away from him, making sure not to disturb the steady rhythm of his breathing. The sheets cool immediately where I leave his warmth behind, and I pad quietly across the room toward the closet.
The moment I move, Artemis is up. She presses her side against my leg as if to steady me, a silent, grounding presence. Klause, on the other hand, is sprawled on his back, tongue lolling, teeth on full display. It draws a soft smile from me.
A second later, he rolls over with an indignant huff, tail wagging as he gets to his feet and begins padding around, nose to the floor.
My running clothes are already laid out.
I dress in silence, holding onto the softness of him a little longer in my thoughts before I let the day begin. Klause and Artemis quietly flank me as I leave the bedroom, quietly closing the door. The house is still quiet when I step into the kitchen, the soft hum of the refrigerator the only sound—until I see him.
