Page 74 of Saving Destiny

My lust makes me hyper-aware of my own body, though, and my clothes itch as they start to dry, stiffening uncomfortably. I want to remove them as casually as the brothers have, but it feels wrong to display my body in the same place as theirs. My mediocre body can’t begin to compare.

“My beast and I aren’t as separate as it sounds,” Garrett says, and my brain scrambles to remember our conversation through the lust and insecurity. “We feel like one being most of the time because we share thoughts and feelings. My griffin’s instincts and primal nature influence my actions instead of being completely separate. It’s the executive functioning part of our brains, the difference between animals and humans, where our thoughts are the most different. He’s an animal, and he doesn’t understand consequences, morality, or ethics like my human brain. For example, if I allowed him, he could be relentless in pursuit of his mate. He might destroy everything in his path because his instincts ultimately drive him.”

His words sink into my brain, but I have difficulty coordinating a response because he’s still half-naked. “Here’s another example: my griffin wants to strip naked right now without warning you first. He doesn’t rule me, though, so my human brain is warning you that I’m going to take my pants off. I’m not wearing anything underneath, so ….”

My jaw drops open and my head jerks away because the animal part of me wants to look; maybe our shifter minds aren’t as different as I thought. I understand Garrett’s war with his beast better now, even though I’m one with my sphinx. The same part of me that wants to stare unabashed at Garrett’s nakedness also wants to ignore my duties and make both men my mates right here and right now. I squeeze my eyes shut and count to five before Bren’s chuckle distracts me.

I have no recollection of the mage sitting next to me, but my eyes open to fixate on the nearest body part in my line of sight. This happens to be his bare feet. Of course, he has nice feet. Feet aren’t necessarily attractive, but he doesn’t have hairy, misshapen toes or gross toenails.

“How are you feeling, Bren?” I make myself ask the question as I continue to repress my sexual urges.

Bren sighs. I lift my gaze to his face, carefully ignoring the movement in my peripheral vision, which suggests that a wealth of coppery skin is on display.

“I was so angry. Honestly, I’ve never been so mad. I almost tore that woman apart, but I kept thinking about the books. It was the only thing that stopped me. Still, I haven’t felt that furious or out of control in a long time. She spewed lies and hate the entire time she stood next to me. I can’t repeat most of it, but the one that broke me was her accusation that you and Avery were faking your ailments for attention. It struck a nerve.”

It strikes an immediate nerve in me, too. Anger rises like a crimson tide and nearly burns away the pervasive desire. “That bitch,” I hiss. I never curse and I don’t use the slur lightly, but I think the situation demands it. Is her father just as horrible, or did he spoil his daughter to the point of putrid corruption?

“Agreed,” Bren mutters tightly. “Addington used to say the same thing about me. He didn’t think I was seeking attention, but he thought I manufactured things to spite him. He thought discipline and authority would make my brain work normally … whatever that’s supposed to mean. I just needed to change my attitude. When I was younger, I thought he might be right, so I tried. I tried to finish the things I started, or only think about one thing at a time, or not act in ways that would draw attention or seem strange. No matter how many times he beat me or threatened me, though, my brain wouldn’t do what he wanted.” He pauses. I reach for his hand, my heart aching for him, and he accepts it without looking at me. His thumb strokes absently over my knuckles.

“When she said those things, it brought back memories, but I wasn’t angry for me. You went through hell, and Avery suffered too.” Bren’s body shakes with renewed anger. I squeeze his hand tightly, and he shifts closer to me on the step.

“She’ll be punished,” I tell him. If I find out otherwise …. I push the thought away and relay the memory his words brought to mind. “For a while, magicless social services made me go to group therapy. It was recommended for all orphans to prove we were fit to be adopted.” I snort. “The reason isn’t important, I guess. Something I didn’t know is that so many people – kids and adults – struggle with invisible illnesses. The disease or condition or ailment was in their mind or wasn’t as visible as my injuries. At first, I kind of hated them a little. They could hide or mask to fit in andablepeople didn’t make snap judgments the moment they say them.” I shake my head at my idiocy, and Bren’s hand tightens on mine.

“As I got to know them better and they shared their stories, I realized how wrong I was. Some of them hated me. Because they appearednormal….” I pause to make air quotes with my fingers and roll my eyes. “Ugh, I hate that word, but they got accused of faking their illnesses all of the time. I think some of them would have preferred a wheelchair so people could understand they weren’t the same. Other people’s perceptions of them really messed with their heads. People can be so cruel.” My heart aches with the memory. Many of them had just wanted to beseenwhile I had tried so hard to be invisible. I’d learned that we all struggled equally but differently.

Bren shakes away his anger, and his body shudders with the action. He squeezes my hand before releasing it. “I feel better now, but I shouldn’t have let myself get to that point. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

I shake my head and offer a smile. “We’re all going to make mistakes, Bren. I don’t expect perfection. No harm done, right?”

Bren doesn’t meet my eyes as he stands up, and I wonder if he’s hiding something. I don’t have time to think about it before Garrett interrupts. “You need to change before you get sick.”

I immediately protest. “I’m almost dry.” The library makes the lie more obvious. I’m not dry; my clothes are just growing stiff and uncomfortable. I’ve also started to shiver with a chill. I didn’t realize my desire was warming me from the inside until it faded, but nothing has changed. I don’t want to change in front of them.

“Stop being stubborn and prideful,” Garrett says, but his tone isn’t as harsh as his words. “Please just tell us what you need so you don’t injure yourself.”

My lips form a thin line as Garrett sees through my pitiful excuses. “Fine,” I grumble. “Just give me the dry shirt. I can handle that on my own. If you insist, I just need a little help with my pants. I can’t balance on one leg and the stairs are too low to lay on them while I pull my pants up and down. You can help me keep my balance if you don’t look.”

“Believe it or not, I’ve seen naked women before,” Garrett teases.

Despite his tone, it’s the wrong thing to say. I don’t want to think about the perfect, naked bodies he’s seen. My sphinx side growls with jealousy and my eyes probably flash with sudden emotion because both men look taken aback.

“I’m sure you have,” I snap, “but I still don’t want you to look.”

Surprisingly, the men don’t respond to my anger. Bren turns his back while Garrett hands me a dry towel, shirt, and bra. I’m soaked to the skin and the library has provided everything I need, but the sight of Garrett holding my lacy bra makes my cheeks heat. I snatch the items from him and purposefully wait for him to turn his back.

Glancing repeatedly at them to make sure they’re keeping their word, I start to change. In my haste, I nearly rip several strands of hair out of my head while I tear my wet shirt off. After I’ve managed my top half, I assess my bottom half while I chew on my lip. If I use my elbows and triceps to lift my butt, I might be able to wiggle my pants on and off, but I would struggle. Garrett probably expects me to try something like this, and I don’t have the energy for another lecture. I don’t need bruises from the hard concrete, either.

While I think, I take my shoes off and peel away my wet socks. The reddened skin on the outside of my right foot makes me wince and wish I’d done this earlier. That leg has poorer circulation, and the wet stiffness of my leather shoes has already caused a blister.

After giving myself a stern mental pep talk, I square my shoulders and try to pretend the men are just doctors, albeit very hot doctors. “All right,” I begin. “I’ll need a dry towel to sit on while I transfer.” Bren complies immediately, placing a folded, dry towel next to me on the concrete step. “And I’ll need my dry clothes.” Garrett retrieves these, handing me the stretchy pants with my panties folded inside them. Although I’m grateful they’re the nice silky ones the library has provided instead of the large, utilitarian briefs I got at the orphanage, it’s still embarrassing.

“Here’s what I need,” I say with a deep breath. “I’ll need each of you on one side while I pull down my pants. Then, I’ll sit down, take them off the rest of the way and put the new ones on. I’ll need your help again while I pull them up. I want you looking away while I do it.” It sounds easier and less intimate aloud.

“It would be easier and faster if I just put them on for you,” Garrett says.

I force myself to meet his dark gaze. “It’s really difficult to maintain any dignity when I need assistance getting dressed, so please allow me the independence I can manage.”

The shifter ducks his head. His cheeks turn a light pink, and he grumbles an honest apology. They follow my instructions with precise accuracy after Bren throws my wet towel and clothes toward the growing pile, but I realize my mistake once I’m standing. With each of them supporting me under my arms, I can’t reach my waistband. I groan with frustration and am impressed when neither one looks at me.

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