It seems a waste to be locked in a house with three men with attractive personalities on top of bodies made for war and sin, andnottake advantage of the once in a lifetime opportunity.
But something’s still holding me back, and if I’m being honest with myself, I know it’s my stupid conscience. I looked up those terms of endearment they casually slip into conversation; my pulse, my treasure, light of my life. I may be a horny mess, but these men... they want forever. A happily ever after. If I cross that line with them, and later decide to break out on my own? It would devastate them.
I might have some questionable morals, but even I’m not that much of a bitch. So, aside from some hot and heavy make-out sessions, me and my stolen back massager shall continue to keep each other company at night until I’m one hundred percent certain that I’m not confusing the first bit of kindness and security I’ve experienced with the beginning stages of love. They deserve better than a mate with one foot out the door, but I’m not sure if I can give that to them until I can stand by their sides and actually feel like I belong there.
“You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to,” he declares, rummaging around the front pocket of his jeans. “But it’s yours regardless.”
Fist clenched, he holds his arm out stiffly, barely breathing. I feed off of his anxiety, hesitantly holding out my open hand beneath his. For several seconds, he doesn’t move. Then, with a shuddering exhale, he unfurls his fingers one by one, a tiny piece of jewelry eventually falling into my possession.
The blood-red stone is in the shape of a teardrop, gold twisting across it in an elaborate pattern resembling an ornate lightning bolt. Metal curves in an arc above it with a ball on top, and I can’t hide the confusion on my face. “It’s gorgeous, but I don’t have my belly button pierced.”
His throat bobs. “Not yet, but I’m hoping you’ll consider it.”
It takes me longer to connect the dots than I want to admit. Repeating his words over and over in my head, I finally snag on one part in particular. Everything clicks into place, the blood draining out of my face as I whisper, “Youmadethis.”
A terse nod is all I get in response, his nervousness suddenly making a hell of a lot of sense.
“What-” I swallow, staring down at the innocuous gem with far more trepidation than before, the weight growing heavier in my palm with every passing second. “What does it do?”
Easing into the spot beside me, the bed dips beneath his weight. “Truthfully? I’m not sure. I’ve experimented countless times over the course of my life, but never once have I created something in this fashion. Even-” he clears his throat “- even the fragments I gave Aurelia that damned us all were crafted by duplicating a nightmare’s siphoning ability and confining it into the gem shards. This? It’s imbued with my blood, something unique that only you possess.”
Hands on his knees, he grips the material until it strains against the seams. “I’m hoping it’ll act as an amplifier. If so, it should help you heal quicker, and give you more access to the lightning coursing through your veins. To be able to shift.”
“And if not?”
The ancient demon shrugs. “We’re in uncharted territory here. I hope that you’ll consider wearing it, because I truly believe it’ll offer you some sort of protection, even if we aren’t sure how that will manifest. But I won’t blame you in the slightest if you aren’t comfortable doing so. All I ask is that if you opt for the latter, you keep it somewhereextremelysafe so that it won’t fall into anyone else’s hands.”
Staring down at the potentially hazardous gift, I press my lips into a thin line, considering as many possibilities as I can. “Why a belly button ring?’
“Easily concealed, yet not suspicious if exposed. Earrings, necklaces, and bracelets are easily stolen. So unless you’re up for nips, clit, or tongue, this seemed the least painful option.”
The blunt delivery has a startled laugh slipping out before I can stop it. Once it starts, I can’t stop, the insanity of everything that’s happened so quickly stealing my breath away. Chest shaking and the muscles in my stomach burning, I try and fail to pull myself together for several minutes.
Far more composed than me, Stone simply smiles, full of warmth and understanding. “I shouldn’t have sprung this on you, I’m sorry.”
That helps sober me up, and with a few more sporadic chuckles, I get control of myself. “No, you’re fine. It’s a smart idea, even if I’m a bit nervous. It all just sounds so ridiculous, you know? ‘Here, take this magical belly button ring that’s been blessed by a demon. May it bring you good health and prosperity.’”
His smile turns into something more tender than I’m equipped to handle in my current state. “That it does,mo stór.”
My stomach flips. “I’m surprised with the whole ancient demon thing you don’t speak Latin, but thankful all the same; easier to find translations online with Irish.”
A soft chuckle shakes his chest. “I do, actually, but since rarely anyone else does, I haven’t spoken it in ages and am admittedly rusty. My apologies if we’ve made you uncomfortable, we aren’t attempting to exclude you from conversations by any means, it’s habit more than anything. Raiden was born in Ireland, was devastated when his family emigrated over when his sister was born because it was supposed to be safer here. It’s one of the few things we can actually do for the guy since he's such a control freak. With as stressed as he’s been recently, Kodi and I have slipped into speaking his first language as a means of comfort without even really thinking about it. I’ll make sure to translate more when you’re in the room so you’re included.”
Silver-tongued devils, I swear. All three of them. I’m not even surprised to hear they’re really demons.
Stretching out on the bed, I scrunch my shirt up beneath my breasts and try not to be self-conscious of the massive scar leftover from the robbery, splitting my stomach in half. It’s an ugly, jagged thing, but it’s also the first one I’ve received that wasn’t from Malcolm, and without it, I never would have met the three of them.
“Best get this done and over with before I chicken out.”
Releasing a heavy breath, he takes another moment to be human before donning his professional mask. “Would you like a shot or two to help dull the pain?”
My refusal is on the tip of my tongue. I don’t drink alcohol; ever. It’s been a cardinal rule for as long as I can remember. The risks of lowering my inhibitions and reaction times far outweigh the joys of being able to shut off my brain for a little while. But... that was before. Before I had a safe space, before I had people that would watch my back while I let my guard down.
Before I had people that I trusted not to take advantage of the chance to hurt me.
“Actually... yeah. I think I would.”
Stone holds my gaze, reading me like an open book. Without comment, he crosses the room, unearths a bottle of clear rum, and hands it to me as I rise up on an elbow. “It burns a bit going down, and takes a few minutes to hit you, so don’t chug it.”
