Page 64 of Claimed By the Damned

The bracelet sits in the top drawer of my nightstand, untouched since the day it arrived. I still don't know why I kept it. Two months pass without a word from Kolya—no more packages, no more threats. Just silence. But I know better than to mistake silence for mercy. He’s biding his time, watching, waiting.

What he doesn't know is that I'm not alone anymore.

Every night, I find myself in one of their beds. It started out of needing comfort, safety, closeness after years of isolation and fear. Now, it's become something else entirely. A routine.

Some nights, I fall asleep curled into Ethan’s warmth, his arms locked around me as if he can physically hold my nightmares at bay. Other nights, I slip beneath Bastian’s sheets, lulled by the steady, reassuring beat of his heart against my back. Then there are nights I seek out Ryker, drawn to the reckless energy that somehow always soothes me in the dark.

It’s not always about sex, though that heat simmers between us, undeniable and growing stronger every day. More than that, it’s about a sense of belonging. About waking up surrounded by them, safe and wanted in a way I haven't felt ever.

Like this morning: I went to bed tangled with Ethan, only to wake sandwiched between him and Ryker. Ethan’s arm rests protectively over my waist, his face pressed to the curve of my neck, while Ryker has one heavy leg thrown over mine, trapping me as if subconsciously deciding I can’t move without his permission.

I should be annoyed by the possessiveness. Instead, I feel... treasured and cared for.

A low groan rumbles from Ryker, his face buried against my shoulder. "Mmm, you should probably stop moving like that," he murmurs, his voice dropping lower, rougher. He nuzzles closer,his breath hot on my skin. "Or keep squirming against us both, Baby Girl, and we might just have to find out how well you handle two cocks at once."

I huff a laugh, the sound shaky. His crude words send unexpected heat pooling low in my belly. Being pressed between them like this feels intense enough, but the idea Ryker just planted, being with both of them at once, makes my stomach flip. Not just with nerves, but with a startling flicker of curiosity.

Just as the thought takes hold, Ethan makes a sleepy noise of protest, his arm tightening instinctively around my waist. “No,” he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep but firm. “You don’t got anywhere else to be. Stay.”

Warmth spreads through my chest, an ache so deep and unfamiliar it almost scares me. Ryker’s kinky demand, Ethan’s protective hold... it's overwhelming. I’m not used to this. Being wanted like this. Cared for. Loved without expectation or demand, just... theirs.

No.I can’t go there. Not yet.

A loud knock shatters the moment, followed by Grim’s gravelly voice. “Rise and shine, princess. Your fan club can suck it up—time for training.”

I groan, pressing my face into Ethan’s chest. “Two months, and he’s still an asshole.”

Ethan’s fingers trace absent circles on my back. “Yeah, but he’sourasshole.”

Ryker smirks against my skin. “Wanna bet how long until he foams at the mouth when you ignore him?”

I sigh, shifting to sit up even as their arms resist. “Tempting, but if I make him wait too long, he’ll just drag me out.”

Ethan mutters something under his breath about Grim needing a hobby.

Ryker just grins, stretching lazily. “Fine. But you’re making it up to us later.”

I roll my eyes, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. “I make it up to you most nights, Cage.”

His grin widens. “Damn right, you do.”

The weeks settle into a strange rhythm. Between Grim's relentless training—his irritating watchfulness forcing me alert—and shifts at the flower shop, I take cautious steps back towards normalcy. Here, surrounded by the guys during shared meals and quiet evenings, I slowly feel less broken, more like myself. But the depth of feeling growing for them remains terrifying.

Until one morning, when everything changes.

I wake up in my own bed for the first time in weeks. The cool sheets feel strange after nights tucked against solid warmth. Bastian had come to bed with me last night, but he must have gotten up early, probably already focused on work. The absence still makes the room feel colder than it should.

A weight presses on my chest, my stomach churning, a slow, sickening roll. The room is still dark, shrouded in early morning shadows, but the scent of coffee drifts from the kitchen; at least one of them is already up. Yep, it's probably Bastian—he’s always the first to move, his body seeming to reject stillness.

I try to push up, but the moment I move, my stomach clenches violently. A cold sweat breaks out along my spine. This isn't just exhaustion from stress. My head is thick with fog, limbs weighted like wet cement.

Maybe I’m just run-down. My bodyhasbeen through hell—running from Kolya, near misses, hiding, healing, fighting nightmares. That has to be it. I just need rest.

Except… the nausea doesn’t fade. It claws up my throat, violent and unrelenting. My stomach twists again, and before I can think, I lurch out of bed, sprinting for the bathroom. I barely reach the toilet before I’m on my knees, heaving, hands gripping the cold porcelain like an anchor.

Fuck.

A few minutes later there's a knock at the bathroom door. "Lila?" Bastian's voice is low, steady, but threaded with concern.

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