Page 18 of Sacrifice

“Is it now?” Nero’s tone is light, almost playful, contrasting sharply with Gunnar’s unease. His pinky grazes the side of my hand, then trails down to my wrist, a deliberate caress that ignites a forbidden spark within me. I suck in a shaky breath, caught in the crossfire of their silent battle for dominance. “I thought it would be kind of fun…especially since this is all for show anyway.”

I can feel the weight of his gaze in the darkness, even if I can’t see it. The brush of his finger against my skin sends a shiver through me that has nothing to do with the chill of the room. There’s a dangerous allure to Nero that I can’t completely deny, no matter how hard I try.

“It’s not for show, Nero,” I state, my voice shaky—not out of fear, but desire. “This isn’t some game we’re playing. If you’re pack, then you’re pack.” I pause, letting the significance of those words hang in the air, heavy and irrefutable. “And together, we’ll reform Pacific City. We’re committed to this cause—beyond the superficial.”

“Aisling,” Gunnar’s concern is palpable in his whisper, close to my ear. His hand on my thigh is both comforting and claiming. “You okay?”

I nod, even though he can’t see it clearly, and give a small smile in the direction of his voice. “Yeah, just…Nero bumped my hand, that’s all.” It’s a half-truth; Nero did more than just bump my hand, but I don’t want Gunnar flying off the handle. Not now, not when trust is as fragile as the darkness enveloping us.

Nero’s chuckle rumbles through the pitch-black space, low and confident. “Less of a bump and more of an exploration,” he admits, unrepentant. “I’m just trying to find out if we have chemistry—as we should if we’re going to pack up. Those bonds… they can’t be forced.”

Before anyone else can say a word, the red light from the waiter’s glasses cuts through the darkness once again, a beacon that momentarily distracts us from our charged conversation.

“Your amuse bouche for this evening,” he announces. “Smoked Paprika Sphere with Yuzu.” The scent is immediate and intoxicating, a promise of the flavors hidden within the delicate creation. “The chef recommends enjoying it in one bite for the full experience. I’ll return shortly with your first course.”

“Thank you,” Gunnar replies, the authority in his voice never waning even as he addresses the waiter. His hand still presses on my thigh, a silent statement of possession.

Once the waiter’s presence recedes, a silence falls over us, but it’s short-lived. Nero shifts in his seat, and I can sense him leaning into the void between us. “What I was going to do is ask if I can touch your mate, Gunnar,” Nero murmurs. “Since I presume that’s why we’re here…?”

“Touch her how?” Gunnar growls, but he’s started to caress my thigh—like this is turning him on, not pissing him off.

“Just a little touch,” Nero replies. “Well within the rules of this establishment.”

Gunnar’s arm twitches—a shrug. “It’s her choice,” he says firmly, giving me the power to decide.

I hesitate, nerves fluttering in my stomach. Can I trust Nero? Is Gunnar really okay with this? But there’s no room for indecision in this world we’ve carved out for ourselves—a world of alphas and omegas where every move is a calculated risk.

“Yes,” I whisper, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me.

“Can you open your mouth for me, gorgeous?” Nero purrs.

I part my lips obediently, heart racing as I wait for whatever comes next. Nero’s hand lifts, and I feel the brush of his fingers against my mouth as he places the amuse bouche delicately onto my tongue. The flavors burst as I bite down—the smokiness of the paprika perfectly balanced by the tart yuzu.

As his fingers retreat, I can’t help but draw them slightly deeper, tasting the salt of his skin. He lingers just a fraction longer than necessary, and I release him with a quiet breath, feeling both vulnerable and exhilarated under the intimate touch.

“Exquisite, isn’t it?” Nero murmurs, almost to himself.

“Very,” I manage to reply, the single word laden with more meaning than it should carry.

Gunnar’s hand creeps higher, emboldened or perhaps spurred on by Nero’s audacity. I inhale sharply as his fingers dance tantalizingly close to the hem of my dress. The air between us fills with his scent—earthy and wild like a dense forest, so distinctly Gunnar. It’s a heady reminder of our connection, of the bond that ties us together even when the world threatens to rip us apart.

And that scent…it’s getting stronger.

Yeah, he likes this.

He likes it and I don’t know what to do with that information, because all of a sudden I’m dying for both of them to touch me.

“Smells good in here, doesn’t it?” Nero’s voice breaks through the haze, carrying a note of amusement. “Aisling, you’re absolutely delectable.”

My cheeks flush with heat not entirely from embarrassment. His compliment, wrapped in innuendo, makes my heart beat faster.

It’s clear that Nero understands the effect he has, and he revels in it.

“Chemistry is definitely not an issue,” he says, a chuckle lacing his words. “But let’s not get too carried away just yet. We have business to attend to…though I’m all for multitasking.”

His last word hangs in the air, charged with promise and peril. Business mingled with pleasure—a dangerous combination that could either forge powerful alliances or destroy everything we’ve built.

“Business first,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “We can…explore other things later.”

---