Page 19 of Tarnished Embers

I watch as his eyes widen and then go hooded, his tongue coming out to trace his lower lip.

“She promised to come to us if she feels the need to cut again,” Cas adds, pulling me away from Prince and wrapping a warm towel around me, then tucking it so that it stays up. “She swore.”

Prince’s eyes flit to mine, our gazes locked. There’s so much swirling in those green depths of his; hunger, lust, and a need that takes my breath away and leaves my chest aching.

“Where are your razors?” he asks.

“Bathroom cupboard, in the pink pouch at the back, third shelf,” I answer immediately, holding his stare.

I hear Cas open the cupboard, the sound of things moving, and then he’s next to us, holding the small pouch out to Prince who takes it and looks it over. It’s so pretty, so innocent-looking, the kind of thing that would hold a few items of make-up.

“You come to me when you need these,” Prince commands, shaking the pouch slightly.

“Yes, Prince,” I agree with a nod and watch as the green in his eyes darken to the colour of ivy leaves.

“Good girl. Let’s get you to bed.” He places the pouch on the bathroom counter, then takes my hand, guiding me out of the bathroom and into my bedroom. Then he pauses at the foot of my bed, turns, and lets go of my hand. In a move that shouldn’t be sexy but is, he pulls his black T-shirt over his head.

My breath leaves me in a whoosh at the sight of him. Like Cas, he is covered in ink, but unlike Cas, Prince is a riot of colours. It travels up his neck, framing his jaw, and glides down his arms, then over the back of his hands and down his fingers. His designs are incredible; a tiger hiding in grass with its mouth open in a roar; blue, purple, and green elephant heads across his pecs and upper chest, and an orange butterfly resting at the base of his throat.

He’s stunning, and I want to catalogue every piece of art, but he doesn’t even give me the chance to continue ogling him, tugging on my towel until it pools at my feet. The green of his irises grows even darker for a moment, then darkness covers my eyes, my nose full of the scent of rum and leather as he pulls his T-shirt over my head.

I instantly snuggle into the garment after putting my arms through the sleeves, wrapping them around myself in a hug as I take a deep inhale.

“You’ll stay too?” I ask, a slight hint of panic in my tone as my breaths catch. I’m not sure when the idea that I needed them both here with me became crucial, but now that I thought of it, I know I won’t be able to sleep tonight without them.

His entire face softens as his hand reaches out, cupping my cheek. The comfort that slight gesture gives me is visceral, instantaneous, and should leave me worried, but I’m not. How can I be when it feels so right to be with him, with them like this?

“Of course, darlin'.” My shoulders slump, the panic gone as quick as it came, and my eyes close for a moment as a small smile spreads across my lips. “Get into bed, darlin'.”

Opening my eyes, I give him a small nod before crawling into bed from the end, and my smile widens when matching groans sound out behind me.

“That was mean, Cinders,” Cas grumbles, getting in beside me, wearing only his grey boxers. He tugs me towards him and my body instinctively curves around him, my leg draping over his.

The bed dips behind me, and then Prince presses against my back, his hard, very much naked cock nestled against my arse. I wiggle against him, and he growls.

“Sleep now, Sugar,” he orders, his arm wrapping around me as he presses even closer.

I don’t think I’ll be able to, not sandwiched between these gorgeous men, but I find my eyelids drooping, and soon I’m embracing the darkness like an old friend, safe knowing that my stepbrothers will keep the nightmares at bay.

CHAPTEREIGHT

“DYING ON THE INSIDE” BY NESSA BARRETT

OCT

Kit and I are sitting on his bed, playing video games where—as usual—I’m beating the fucker’s ass. The sound of Ember’s cries of pleasure filtered through the wall earlier, even over the shower, and both of us are sporting semis in our shorts that we don’t bother to hide. Why would we? We’ve seen enough of each other’s dicks in the past few years that it doesn’t even faze us anymore.

The door opens and in strides Odette, our stepmom and the woman who rules our fucking lives with an iron fist. Her clingy, silk nightdress hides absolutely nothing, and a slight chill lifts the hair at the back of my neck, my semi shrivelling at the sight of her. She’s always been open with us, but as we got older, we realised that walking in on us showering and wearing low-cut, provocative things around us wasn’t the normal behaviour of a parent or guardian. We just learnt to ignore it, safer that way than admitting that something might come from it.

“Where are your brothers?” she questions, her eyes trailing over my bare chest, then pausing at my crotch. Her tongue comes out to lick her lower lip and I have to swallow the bile that hits the back of my throat, the feeling of ants crawling over my skin making goosebumps erupt over my flesh. I wish I had a fucking T-shirt or vest or something to cover up, but there’s nothing close enough to hide me from her prying eyes.

“Looking after Ember,” Kit says, pausing the game and drawing her attention to him like he always does. There may be only four minutes between us, but somehow, he thinks that because he’s older, he has to protect me. I cut him a glare, but he misses it and my stomach roils when Odette’s eyes light up.

“Excellent. I’m so glad that you’re enjoying having a new sister,” she purrs, sashaying closer to us. “I want you to take such special care of her. She’s been through so much and I know you can make her feel better.”

Her eyes linger on Kit’s abs, also on display as he didn’t bother with a shirt either. My hands grip my controller tighter at the predatory look in her eyes, and the plastic cracks, her snake-like stare swinging back to me. She smiles, but it’s not a nice one. Instead, it’s full of a smug satisfaction that I want to swipe off her botoxed face.

“Well, I’ll say good night, boys.” She leans over, brushing her fake tits up against me as she presses a kiss to my cheek. I have to hold my breath to stop from breathing in her overpowering, sickly sweet perfume. It reminds me of dying flowers; cloying and sticks to the back of your throat. I don’t know how Ember’s dad stands it.

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