Page 74 of Hero Worship

I felt Ash tense slightly, but I just laughed harder. "Aw, is someone jealous?"

"Of your weird possessive daddy kink? Hard pass." The eye roll was audible in Xavier's voice. "Now please, for the love of god, go to sleep. Some of us have to deal with your horny asses in the morning."

I pressed my face into Ash's neck, still giggling. After everything that had happened today, the simple normalcy of Xavier's exasperation felt like a lifeline.

Tomorrow would bring new dangers, new challenges. But for now, wrapped in Ash's arms with my brother's fond irritation washing over us, I felt something dangerously close to peace.

Even if it might be the last time.

Dawn crept across Parislike a guilty lover, painting our hotel windows in shades of pink and gold. I watched the light chase shadows across Xander's sleeping face, memorizing every detail. The fan of their lashes against porcelain skin. The perfect bow of their lips. The bruises I'd left bloomed across their throat like violets.

Soon we would have to wake him. Soon we would have to set Xavier's insane plan in motion. But for now, I let myself drink in the sight of him curled trustingly against my chest, vulnerable in ways he never allowed himself to be when awake.

I traced one finger along the marks decorating his throat. Mine. The word pounded through my blood with each heartbeat. But it wasn't just Xander I felt territorial about anymore. My gaze drifted to where Xavier slept on the couch, his laptop still glowing softly beside him. The similarities between them were striking in sleep. The same sharp cheekbones. The same deceptive fragility that hid lethal grace.

Both were mine to protect now.

My phone buzzed again. Another message from Nikolai, no doubt demanding updates on our increasingly unstable situation. But I couldn't bring myself to look at it. Couldn't face whatever new complications waited in those texts. Not when Xander was making soft sounds in their sleep, pressing closer like they could crawl inside my skin if they tried hard enough.

"You're thinking too loud again." Xavier's voice carried quietly from the couch, though his eyes remained closed. "Your anxiety is giving me a headache."

"Go back to sleep," I murmured, though we both knew that was impossible now. The weight of what waited for us pressed down like a physical thing, squeezing the air from my lungs.

"Can't." He sat up with fluid grace, already reaching for his laptop. "Too much to do. Too many variables to account for."

The gentle click of keys filled the room as he began whatever digital wizardry would transform us into exactly what Roche wanted to see. I watched his fingers dance across the keyboard, struck by how similar the precise movements were to Xander's knife work. Both brothers wielding their chosen weapons with deadly accuracy.

"Stop profiling me," Xavier said, without looking up. "I can feel you categorizing my tells."

"Can't help it. It's what I do."

"What you do is project your protective instincts onto convenient targets." Now he did look up, eyes sharp despite theearly hour. "I'm not your responsibility, Ash. Not your asset to control."

"No?" I kept my voice low, conscious of Xander still sleeping against me. "Someone needs to look out for you. You can’t exactly stop me."

Xavier's expression shifted subtly as he studied me over his laptop screen. "You've moved me from 'asset' to 'family' in your threat assessment matrix." It wasn't a question. "Interesting adaptation to changing parameters."

"You sound like a computer analyzing data."

"Because that's what I do." His fingers never stopped moving across keys. "Just like you categorize behavioral patterns and calculate threat responses. We're not so different, you and I. Both trying to protect him in our own ways."

The observation hit closer to home than I cared to admit. We were mirrors of each other in some ways. Both were willing to break whatever rules necessary to keep Xander safe. Both hiding darker impulses behind carefully maintained control.

"The difference," I said quietly, "is that I have decades of field experience keeping assets alive. You're used to running ops from behind a screen."

"And now you need both." His smile held no warmth. "The field operative and the digital ghost. That's why this will work. Why we'll keep him alive."

Xander stirred against my chest, drawn from sleep by our quiet conversation. His eyes opened.

"Morning, precious," I murmured, pressing a kiss to his temple. The endearment wasn't just for show anymore. Not when we were about to play the most dangerous game of our lives.

"You two are already plotting," he observed, voice still rough with sleep. His hand found mine under the sheets, fingersinterlacing with desperate strength. "I can feel the schemes brewing from here."

"Just finalizing details." Xavier's typing never slowed. "Your new digital footprint is almost ready. Bank records showing a pattern of art purchases focusing on preservation techniques. Private gallery connections. Everything needed to make your wealthy crime novelist husband look like someone who shares Roche's particular interests."

I felt Xander tense at those words. At the reminder of exactly what role I would have to play. His grip on my hand tightened further.

"Speaking of which." Xavier finally looked up. "We need to discuss your approach. How you're going to convince Roche you're a kindred spirit without overselling it."

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