Page 51 of Claimed By the Damned

I shove the jealousy down, harder this time, a familiar acidic burn. This is what we agreed to. Figuring it out. Together. I force myself to focus on cracking eggs into the sizzling pan instead of dwelling on the way Ethan's thumb is still brushing her cheek, or the wayI wishshe looked at me. Fuck. Get a grip.

The mundane normalcy of making her breakfast is a welcome distraction. Lila slides into a seat at the counter, eyes flicking toward me, still looking a little dazed but settling into the stool Ethan pulls out for her. For a moment, everything else fades.

I set a plate piled high with eggs and bacon, alongside a fresh cup of coffee, in front of her. My fingers brush hers slightly as I place the mug down. "Eat." My voice is gruffer than intended.

She offers me a small, hesitant smile, the kind that always manages to bypass my defenses. Then, before I can pull back fully, she does something unexpected. Lila leans forward slightly on her stool, reaching out. Her hand rests briefly on my forearm, and she presses a quick, soft kiss to my cheek. Her lips are warm against my skin for just a fraction of a second before she retreats, her cheeks flushing again as she quickly looks down at her plate.

My breath catches. I stand frozen for a beat, the spot where her lips touched tingling, surprise warring with a sudden, sharp spike of possessive warmth. Damn if that small gesture doesn’t hit me harder than a physical blow, cracking something inside my carefully constructed walls.

Ryker, never letting a moment slide, clears his throat loudly, breaking the charged silence. He leans back in his chair, smirking at Ethan before turning his attention to me. "So, where’s mine, Chef Bastian? Or is this special treatment reserved for the lady?"

The moment is interrupted by heavy footsteps. The kitchen door swings open, and Grim's massive figure fills the doorway. His eyes scan the room—taking in Lila’s flushed face, Ethan standing close beside her, Ryker’s smug look, and my position at the stove—before settling back on Lila with a curious look.

I gesture toward him. "Lila, meet Grim. He’s going to be your bodyguard whenever you leave the house."

Her eyes widen, mouth opening—then slamming shut. She blinks, glancing between me and Grim, then back again, the recent kiss momentarily forgotten in the face of this new imposition. "Wait, what? No. Absolutely not. I don’t need a damn bodyguard. I’m not some helpless damsel."

I cross my arms, expecting this. "It’s not up for debate, Lila."

She throws her hands up, frustration clear. "This is insane! You can’t just assign someone to stalk me like I’m a prisoner. I go to work, I grab coffee—I try to exist like a normal person! Now I’ve got you three hovering, and you want to add another? I just got my freedom back, and now you’re taking it away again!"

Grim lets out a low chuckle, amused. "Listen, Princess, either you let me follow you, or I start carrying you everywhere. Your choice."

Lila groans, dropping her head onto the counter with a dramatic sigh. "I hate this already."

I watch her, amused despite the tension still simmering. She’s going to drive Grim insane. A part of me enjoys the thought.

Ryker smirks, entertained. "You’ll get used to it. Or you won’t. Either way, Grim’s not going anywhere."

Ethan chuckles, nudging my arm. "She’s going to make his life hell, isn’t she?"

I take a slow sip of my coffee, watching Lila grumble under her breath, arms crossed defiantly. She’ll fight this. She’ll make Grim work for it. And fuck, if I don’t enjoy watching her

Chapter 17: Blood in the Water

Lila Two weeks later…

The dynamic in the house has shifted subtly over the past two weeks, like tectonic plates grinding slowly into a new position. A weight lifted when I finally told them everything about Kolya, terrified they'd see me differently, judge me for the weakness I felt he'd branded on me, or look at me with pity. But they didn't. If anything, their support and protectiveness only intensified, their care unwavering, making the shift between us feel even more real and profound.

Ethan and Ryker... they don't hide it anymore. Casual touches linger, possessive glances are exchanged openly, sometimes even in front of each other. They both openly kiss me—quick, stolen moments in the kitchen or deep, lingering embraces on the couch, regardless of who might be watching.

A hand brushing my hip as Ethan passes, Ryker pulling me onto his lap while we watch a movie with Ethan sprawled nearby, a searing kiss hello or goodbye that leaves me breathless. It feels like the tentative 'us' we stumbled into is solidifying, becoming real in the small, everyday moments.

Except for Bastian. He remains an island, watchful and controlled. That kiss on the cheek I dared to give him feels like a lifetime ago. He acknowledged it with a sharp intake of breath, a flicker of something hot in his hazel eyes, but then... nothing

He keeps his distance, his walls firmly in place. I still catch him watching me sometimes with that intense, unreadable gaze, but I don't know what he feels, what hewants. And after everything, after Kolya, I'm terrified of pushing, terrified of misreading him, terrified of needing something he isn't willing to give.

It makes moments like the other night even more confusing.

I remember melting into the couch cushions, boneless and blissed out. Ethan had been between my legs, his skilful mouthworking magic, worshiping me like I was the only thing that mattered. He’d sworn he could eat me for hours, and damn, if he wasn't proving it, tongue teasing and sucking my clit until my hips arched off the sofa, chasing my release. Just as my orgasm started to build, a low chuckle echoed from the doorway. Ryker. He hadn't hesitated, just stalked over, kneeling beside Ethan. His rough fingers found my already tight nipples, pinching and rolling them mercilessly as Ethan’s tongue drove me over the edge. My orgasm slammed into me, a tidal wave of sensation, my cries muffled as Ryker leaned down, capturing my mouth in a searing kiss while Ethan continued his relentless assault on my pussy.

As the waves subsided, my body trembling and hypersensitive, I blinked my eyes open, vision swimming. And I saw him. Bastian. Standing framed in the living room doorway, his face tight, fists clenched at his sides. His gaze was fixed on us, intense and raw, a burning hunger in his eyes that mirrored my own desperate need.

Even through the haze, I couldn't miss his hard cock straining against the front of his jeans, stark evidence of how much the scene affected him. He looked like he wanted nothing more than to cross the room, to join us, to wreck me alongside them. But then Ryker kissed me again, deep and possessive, stealing my breath and pulling my focus back to the heat between us, and when I looked again, Bastian was gone.

That memory, the heat of it tangled with the ache of Bastian's absence, lingers even now.

A heavy, expectant silence hangs over the house, thick as dust. Since Kolya sent that goddamn bracelet, there has been nothing. No calls, no threats, no more 'gifts'. The quiet feels wrong, stretched too tight, like the air before lightning strikes. The waiting is its own kind of torture.

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