Page 41 of Song Bird Hearts

Wolf fucks harder, deeper, growling into my skin as he slams inside Gilden. Gilden grips my hips like a lifeline, his moans spilling into my mouth. I shatter before I’m even aware of the buildup. My orgasm rips through me brutally, my body seizing, my mouth open in a silent scream, and it pulls both of them over the edge with me.

Gilden comes with a broken cry, buried deep inside me, shaking as his muscles start to twitch with his pleasure.

Wolf follows last, thrusting hard one final time, spilling into Gilden with a snarled breath, completely sweat-slick and shaking behind me.

The world stills. Our bodies are slumped together as I collapse onto Gilden’s chest and Wolf bends over us both, his arms wrapped around my waist like he can’t let me go. We breathe together, quiet, until our heartbeats seem to sync up and I can make sense of what just happened.

Gilden is the first to speak, his voice rough and still somehow smug.

“Next time,” he pants. “Y’all better warn me. I’d have brought water.”

I laugh, breathless and stunned. Wolf doesn’t say anything, but his grip tightens around my middle, his lips pressing to my shoulder in something almost like a kiss.

It still doesn’t make sense, but why does it have to?

Why does anything have to make sense at all?

Chapter19

Valerie

The cabin is too quiet when I finally step out on the porch the next day. The wind had shifted overnight—crisper, drier, but still sharp with pine—and the sun filters through the trees like it doesn’t know what happened in the woods yesterday.

I do.

I still feel it.

Wolf and Gilden are inside. Gilden is asleep last I checked, his messy curls making him look innocent in slumber. The man is a walking heartthrob, but when he sleeps, he looks like an angel. He’d probably give me some grief if I ever told him that. I welcome it.

Wolf is sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of hot tea. His eyes had followed me possessively around the room until I’d looked toward the front door. He’d understood what I was gonna do and settled into the chair, with a soft, “be careful, little star,” murmured my way. I think Wolf understands the tension with Knox better than I do. I think he sees the pieces neither one of us are able to put together.

But I’m putting them together now.

Knox isn’t inside the cabin this morning. I can hear him out on the porch, every now and then moving around in his thick combat boots. When I step outside, I find him sitting in one of the old rocking chairs, his sleeves rolled up, a disassembled handgun spread out on the small table beside him as he wipes the pieces down with a rag. His hands move like this is ritual, like it’s the only thing in the world that makes sense.

His jaw ticks when he sees me, but he doesn’t speak.

My nerves are on fire as I force myself to move over in front of him and lean back against the porch post. I cross my arms so I look serious, but also so I can feel a little bit protected. Knox is like a fireplace, always burning, but you throw a little bit of fuel on it, it’s gonna grow past its barriers. This will be a lot of fuel. I know that. And somehow, I ain’t scared of it.

“You gonna talk to me?” I ask.

Click. Wipe. Repeat.

He doesn’t look up. “Ain’t got much to say.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” I mutter. “After you stormed off. . .”

Knox doesn’t respond. He just keeps working, his movements slow, methodical, surgical.

“You mad?” I ask, frustrated. “Jealous? Disappointed I didn’t pick you?”

That gets a twitch out of his mouth, but it’s not a smile. It’s danger, that flame flicking up just a little higher. He meets my eyes and it takes everything in me not to flinch.

“I’m not mad you fucked him,” Knox says, his voice flat and emotionless. “I’m mad you don’t see what that means.”

I blink. “What the hell does that mean?”

He sets metal pieces to the side and leans back, somehow looking more intimidating despite being in an old rocking chair like an old man.

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