Page 18 of Room One Hundred and Seven: Catch and Claim

Even though she’s been working in kink clubs and giving her clients their desires, I have to wonder when the last time her passions were fueled. When was the last time she was put first without it being about what a man wants and desires?

I say a silent vow to myself that I’ll be putting her pleasure first and making sure that we take her out of her head.

“Before you answer,” Hendrix’s growled tone is filled with want, “this won’t be what you’re used to. While we won’t demand your complete submission, you will give up the control you’ve been holding onto so tightly.”

Kirby narrows her eyes as I give him a sharp look of my own. But he doesn’t care. He keeps his gaze steady and sure. I’m sure he wants to show her the truth of his words and that she can trust him, trust us, with what is being asked of her.

I can completely understand why she has held tight to her control after what happened to her. She needed it to feel secure. But we were there, we helped to rescue her. That has to count for something. As the silence stretches and my soul yearns for her to understand and for her trust, I realize just how deeply I need and crave it.

Over the years my brothers and I have realized how closely we resemble each other when it comes to our deepest desires. The thought of chasing her while she knows she’s safe but hunted makes me want to drive out to the land we own on the outskirts of the city and turn her loose.

Fuck.

I glance over and meet Wolfe’s gaze. The predatory look in his eyes and the feral grin on his face tells me he’s thinking the exact same thing as I am.

But first she has to be willing to give herself over to us tonight. Can she? Can she put that kind of trust in us?

My breath stalls in my lungs as it feels like the moment stretches. It yawns. It thrums with what could be but may never come to fruition.

Just as it feels like it’s time to give up hope, Kirby takes a deep, slow breath. There’s a softness in her voice, a vulnerability, she’s hidden from us until this moment, “I want this.” She looks me in the eye before doing the same with Wolfe and then Hendrix. “I want you. You were,” her eyes close slowly and she swallows hard before opening her flinty eyes, the resolve thereshored and strong, “there. I know I’m safe with you. I know you won’t hurt me. I’m not scared of you or this,” the last word is whispered so softly that I’m not entirely sure she said it.

Her admittance, her acceptance, is a balm to my soul. And I can breathe again.

When Hendrix takes a step closer to her, I do as well. Wolfe and I flank her sides as Hendrix takes her face in his hands.

“Thank you,” there is reverence and gratitude in Hendrix’s words, “we will never allow you to regret this, our Phoenix.”

CHAPTER 8

KIRBY

These men. They do something to me that I can’t explain. It’s like being in their presence gives me strength, something I searched for so long before I could find it within myself. Having someone, or three in this case, offer me something I’ve craved for so long with ease soothes something inside of me.

Even though I’ve found my inner strength, which I’m damn proud of, I’ve been lonely.

What these men are offering, and not giving up on, could mean that I can stop running and searching.

That’s if this is real. That’s if I can truly trust it. That’s if I’m willing to take the risk.

I think it is. I think I can. I think I have to.

“Relax our little Phoenix,” Wolfe murmurs softly.

My word, looking at him takes my breath away. His shoulders are broad, much like the men he calls his brothers. I’ve never been attracted to a bald man, whether purposeful or not, before. But on him it works because it makes him look more dangerous.

Phoenix.

Their nickname for me makes me feel seen and understood.It’s been a long time since I’ve felt that way. Have I ever really, truly felt seen?

I did rise from the ashes of the trauma that was thrust upon me. I made something of myself and found a path that worked for me. I’ll never apologize for that, but I can admit in the quiet of my mind that my choices have allowed me to hide behind a mask. It has served me well, but the feeling of being able to let that mask slip makes me feel free in a way I could have never anticipated.

My eyes travel to Dominic and the way his golden skin calls to me. I haven’t seen nearly enough of it or had his hands on me as much as I crave. There’s a quietness about him that comes off as broody and stoic at first, but I think there’s so much more to him than what he shows the world. If ‘still waters run deep’ was a person, I know it would be him.

His dark brown eyes bore into mine and speak of a softness behind his strength. He’s solid and my gut tells me I could lean on him without fearing being let down. And that would be a gift, one I appreciate to the depth of my soul.

When I look at Hendrix, I see the weight that he shoulders. He is a natural leader and a part of me I’ve traded for the need to be in control yearns to follow him. His eyes, green with flecks of gold, are knowing and don’t miss a damn thing. The way he observes me with clear intent makes me feel safe when it should probably make me feel scrutinized.

Nothing about the time I’ve spent around these men make sense. It’s the reason I’ve tried to limit it as much as possible. But I couldn’t make myself refuse their attention completely.

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