Fionn didn’t waste time on pleasantries. The moment they stopped in front of him, his command brooked no argument. “Strip.”
Reaper’s brows shot up. “The fuck?”
“Your shirt.” Fionn’s eyes burned like embers, his voice a low growl. “Show me the mark now.”
How the hell does he know?
Crap, what was it someone had mentioned about Fionn knowing everything? But if he fucking already knew everything, then why did he want to see their marks?
Even though Cian’s jaw tightened and the muscles in his neck corded with tension, he didn’t hesitate. He yanked his torn tunic over his head in one fluid motion, revealing the swirling red lines that snaked up his arm, coiled around his shoulder, and ended in the shape of a wolf over his heart. The mark stood out in stark contrast against his skin.
Damn, that’s hot.
They better not want us to fuck here to prove we’re bonded or everyone’s gonna have problems.
“Warrior!”
Fionn’s warning dragged his attention from Cian’s chest, and Reaper followed suit, peeling off his ruined shirt with a hell of a lot less grace. He glanced down at his arm, and the mark was just as vivid as Cian’s.
Fionn’s nostrils flared, his expression twisting into something between fury and disbelief. “You bonded.”
Cian’s voice was steady, but Reaper felt the tension radiating off him in waves, like heat from a forge. “There was no choice, Mo Rhí.” His words were clipped, precise. “The ropes?—”
“I know what the ropes do.” Fionn’s hand shot out to grip Cian’s chin, forcing him to meet his gaze. “But the mark is red and not blue.”
Is it not meant to be?
Say the words, baby…please help me help you.
It had been reckless, maybe even stupid. But dayum… the warrior may just be worth the drama of a relationship. A relationship with no take backs and no way out.
Fuck. What was I thinking?
That good men don’t deserve to die at the whims of an asshole?
That he’s melt-the-sheets-hot?
That those muscles of his are droolworthy?
All of the above?
Option number four. It’s definitely option number four…all of the above.
He forced himself back to the present and glanced at Viper, Trace, and Juice’s forearms, and a cold knot formed in his stomach.
Theirs are blue, so why is ours red?
He didn’t like the way Fionn’s eyes flicked between them, as if he was trying to figure out how to break whatever fuckery was coming to them. “Why is ours a different color to theirs?”
Fionn stuck his thumb into his mouth and closed his eyes. Within moments, he opened them again. “It means you’ve claimed each other. But the bond isn’t complete.” His gaze flicked between him and Cian. “You haven’t fucked yet.”
Excuse me, what?
How the hell is that any of your beeswax?
Reaper’s teeth ground together. “We were a little busy trying not to die,” he bit out, his voice a low growl. The last thing he needed was Fionn judging them for something that should’ve been none of his damn business, not while he was trying to wrap his mind around option number freaking four, and, ‘Say the words, baby…please help me help you.’
A growl rumbled from Fionn’s chest. “While my warriors bled for you,” his voice dropped to a lethal whisper, “you were sealing a bond?”
