Cassandra and Mireille’s uproarious laughter only made Ronin angrier.
He may have come to Tartarus as a commander, but these females were showing him just how little power he actually had. Maybe it was better to play the obedient foot soldier and let them lead.
That sounds good to me, his wolf offered.Especially if Mireille keeps giving you rewards like the one she gave you in?—
That wasn’t a reward, Ronin snarled into his mind.That was a power play.
She can play with our power all she likes.
You’re the fucking worst.
He stalked into his new bedroom and slammed the door shut.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
“This bed is very tiny.”
Tristan angled his wings, trying to get comfortable in the, admittedly, very small bed in Cassandra’s new room. She wondered how Ronin had fit in it.
Cassandra scrunched her wet hair with a towel, another wrapped around her body. “Don’t worry, I’ll fit.”
“That’s my line.” He smirked.
“The shower’s even worse. Good luck washing your wings.”
He swept his gaze across hers. “You do look quite filthy.”
She smirked over her shoulder. “That’smyline.”
He laughed—a Tristan special. Loud and hearty enough to inspire a growl from Ronin’s room across the apartment. “Come here and give me your towel. I’ll clean them off for you.”
She crossed the room and handed him her hair towel, keeping the other wrapped around her naked body. Though she wasn’t sure how long Tristan would stand for that.
She sat at the edge of the bed, spreading her wings, and Tristan rose up on his knees behind her. She closed her eyes, relishing the gentle drag of the towel along her feathers. Zaps of pleasure sparkled through her every time his fingertips brushed one.
Ronin, Silas, and Mireille had all touched her wings—accidental brushes or entanglements during training sessions—butnothingcompared to the heady sensation of Tristan’s touch.
Heat pooled between her thighs when he stroked a finger along the downy feathers at her shoulder blade. His lips grazed her earlobe. “I could make you come this way, you know. Could have you soaked and screaming my name in seconds.”
She breathed out a ragged laugh. “I don’t think Ronin would appreciate that. Thin walls, remember?”
Tristan ran his fangs along her neck and she shuddered, her nipples stiffening. “If you think that I breached the wards of Tartarus, smashed open that gate, braved those mists, fought off the beasts in that moat?—”
“I did most of that fighting.”
“—defended myself against a tiny Fae female’s wicked fists?—”
“A tiny Fae female’slegendaryfists.”
His breathy laugh tickled her skin. “If you think I braved allthose dangers to return to you andnothave you writhing beneath me in this ridiculously small bed tonight, you are sorelymistaken.” He abandoned the towel, running his hands along her wings. The feeling was exquisite; like each and every feather connected to a nerve ending in her clit. She moaned and he wrapped a hand around her mouth. “I do remember—vividly and quite often—how hard it is for you to be quiet.”
“I’ll try my best,” she whispered against his palm.
He removed his hand. “Or we could just go to sleep.” He yawned, fake and obnoxiously loud. “I am pretty tired.”
She turned and pushed him down onto the bed, then straddled him, pressing her bare sex against the loose gray pants Ronin had let him borrow. “I will beat you with these legendary fists again if you don’t get inside meright fucking now.”
He cocked an eyebrow, folding an arm behind his head and popping his biceps. Sweet Amatu, he was aspectacle. She tracedher fingertips down the sculpted planes of his torso, savoring the warm, hard perfection of him.
