Page 46 of Second Shooter

Draven kissed her, threading his hand in her hair, tilting her head back. It started her moment with him, and after tidying up, they all continued to be in contact with her as moans and sighs filled the air, and the bed was thoroughly wrecked in a matter of hours.

Win lifted her head out of the pile, and while she was pressed down, it didn’t matter. Her mattress was breathing with her. The links in their minds were thick and bright. They had been thorough in reinforcing it.

She looked around and paused. “I would say that no one needs to know that we were having sex all afternoon, but—uh—Draven, you are living proof.”

He slowly opened his eyes. “Really? I feel fine.”

She smiled. “Look at your hands.”

He lifted his hands, and his eyes went wide. Wellyn groaned and lifted his head from his position under her. “Looks like you are on your way to becoming part of the dark Elite. It is certain that you are no longer identifiable as a Stronghold Elite at a glance.” He chuckled. “Our mate has a lot of magic, and that magic darkens our skin. Well, your skin. We have been steeped in magic since we were born.”

Win muttered, “At this point, I can only be thankful that the effect wasn’t localized.”

Draven laughed and looked at himself. “This is going to take some getting used to.”

Atil said from her left, “We can help you out. So, Draven, what do you want to do, aside from Win?”

He chuckled. “I don’t know. I was removed from school when I was sixteen and then spent the next twenty-five years in the Stronghold. I was a caretaker there.”

Wellyn said, “I know of a few companies who need alpha stuntmen. Can you take a hit?”

“I can.”

“Good. We will get you working out, dangle you in front of a certain filmmaker I know, and from there, you can start earning your keep.”

Draven extended his hand, made a fist, and rotated his wrist. A heavy platinum and ruby necklace was in his hand. “I can make jewellery.”

“I think it’s a little heavy for Wellyn.”

“It is for you, mate.” Draven smiled.

“It’s worth about eighty thousand at a glance.” Wellyn chuckled. “Assessment is my skill.”

“Wait. Like, is that a thing?” She stared at Wellyn.

“It is. We all have general skills, but we each have one focus. Assessment is mine; accuracy is Atil’s.”

She smiled. “He is accurate.”

Atil chuckled. “Precision is more of a calling.”

Draven was staring at his hand with a delighted smile on his face. He was halfway between pearl and the deep charcoal of the others.

She giggled. “It looks like we ran out of toner.”

Atil laughed.

She sighed. “Okay. I need a shower. My bits are both hot and sticky.” She looked down. “I think I am stuck to you, Wellyn.”

Wellyn sat up, and she ended up kneeling on him. He kissed her neck, dragging his tongue up to flick her earlobe. She convulsed with giggles.

He leaned back and grinned. “So, that is fun.”

She rubbed at the lick mark. “Yes, yes. I, the blood witch, the mirror mage... am seriously ticklish.”

Draven said softly, “We promise only to use it for our own benefit.”

She snorted and shoved at him. She got up and left the disaster that had three very friendly and careful mates in it until she sped up, and they chased her into Atil’s shower.

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