Page 50 of Sacrifice

I want it again.

“Got it,” Nero chuckles, stepping back but not before his fingers brush against the base of my neck, sending an unexpected jolt through me. His touch is casual, maybe too casual, like he’s done it a thousand times before.

I catch his brown eyes with mine, a silent acknowledgment of the charge that passed between us. He doesn’t look away, and for a moment, everything else falls away—the chaos of Pacific City, the looming wedding, the war we’re entrenched in—it all just disappears.

What really matters is our pack. Our family.

I’ll fight for them until my dying breath.

“Thanks,” I say gruffly, adjusting the jacket over my shoulders. The fabric is a little too tight—just like most every other garment I’ve ever worn.

Nero nods, his gaze lingering on me a second longer before he breaks the contact, going to lean back against the wall and sweep his eyes over me. “You clean up nice, Gunnar. Aisling won’t know what hit her.”

The Oasis Strip’s dim light casts shadows across the room, lending a sort of gravitas to the moment. Nero leans against the wall, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp, watching me as I wrestle with questions that have no place in the sterile confines of this dressing room.

“Hey, Nero,” I start, my voice betraying none of the inner tumult. “Did you…I mean, have you always…” I trail off, the words clumsy on my tongue.

“Spit it out, Gunnar.” Nero’s smirk is both a challenge and an invitation.

“Have you had a thing for me this whole time?” The question hangs in the air, raw and vulnerable. It’s crazy—like asking about the weather when there’s a storm brewing on the horizon.

Nero pushes off from the wall, closing the distance between us. His smirk morphs into something more enigmatic, and damn if that doesn’t make him look even more dangerous. “I never hide what I want,” he says, his voice low and rough. “And I don’t limit myself with labels—alpha, beta, omega, men, women, any shade in between. They all have their unique advantages.”

His words wrap around me, laden with unspoken promises and the thrill of unknown pleasures. My heart thuds erratically, and I’m acutely aware of the charged space between our bodies.

“Relax,” Nero murmurs, so close now that I can feel the warmth of his breath. “We’re pack now. We’ve got all the time in the world to explore.”

I stand there, tie perfect, heart racing. I didn’t expect this, didn’t expect my body to react to him with such urgency. It’s Aisling who has always kindled my desire, her shimmer when she laughs, the spark in her eyes—a constellation of emotions that guide me.

But Nero…he’s a wildfire, untamed and unpredictable.

“Thanks,” I manage to say, trying to regain some semblance of control. But before he can step away completely, something compels me to reach out, my hand closing over his shoulder, grounding him in place.

“Nero,” I say, looking into those penetrating brown eyes, “we’re going to do great things in Pacific City. You and me, we’re not just pack. We’re allies in this fucked-up world.”

A hint of surprise flickers across his face before it’s quickly replaced by that characteristic smirk. “Didn’t peg you for the sentimental type, Gunnar. But yeah, I agree. Great things.”

I let my hand drop, but the connection lingers, electric and buzzing with potential. With a nod, we acknowledge the unspoken bond between us—partners in crime, allies in war, and now, comrades with benefits waiting to be explored.

“Let’s get moving,” Nero says, breaking the charged silence. “We’ve got a wedding to start.”

Chapter twenty-two

Aisling

I shift from foot to foot, the cold marble floor a stark reminder that I’m about as unadorned beneath this dress as the truth beneath my skin. The gown clings to every curve, sparkling like a constellation caught in fabric, its whiteness almost too glaring against the backdrop of my life.

“Stop staring,” I mutter, my cheeks warming under Rook’s unwavering gaze. But there’s no bite in my words.

How could there be when he’s looking at me like I’m something precious?

His lips twitch up into a smirk. “Can’t help it.” He leans closer, his breath ghosting over my ear. “You’re stunning.”

There’s an odd flutter in my chest. “This dress…it’s a lie, Rook.” My voice is barely above a whisper, betraying the unease that knots in my stomach. “It makes me look pure, innocent. I’m anything but.”

Rook’s hands are suddenly cupping my face, tilting it up to meet his eyes. His touch is soft, gentle, as if he knows just how much strength to use to not break me. It’s what I love about him…and fuck, I do love him. I love each of them in their own way.

“Hey,” he says firmly, “no one gives a damn about purity here. Not us. You know what we value?” His thumbs brush away an anxiety I didn’t realize knotted my brows. “Your fire. Your guts to fight for a better world. That spirit of yours.”

---