Page 82 of The Shattered Kingdom
I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, chewing at the skin as Kie finally joins us in bed. He traps me between him and Mason, and I take this time to admire him. I’ve always found Kie beautiful.
Faeries have dainty features—pointed noses, high cheekbones, and big eyes. Kie is no different, but nothing about him screams delicate. I touch his jaw, sliding my fingers across hisstubble. Despite everything, I don’t regret our bond.
Mason buries his face in my hair at the back of my neck. “You smell like me. At this rate, we won’t be able to hide your connection to us. We’re with you every minute of every day, you’re living in our home, and you smell of us.” He adjusts, his lips brushing against my shoulder. “We smell like you, too. It’s going to draw attention.”
Anox suggested earlier that Kie and Mason announce that I’m their mate. He said they can rush my coronation. They can make me a queen consort.
I don’t know how to feel about that. It’s so much, so soon.
I clear my throat, wanting to change the topic. “Once people know who we are to one another, will you stop wearing your gloves?”
“Why?” It’s Kie who asks. “We don’t have to, but I assumed you’d want us to. It’s symbolic to wear them after—”
“They’re ugly,” I blurt out. Honesty, they are. “They’re ugly, and they make you look like corny supervillains. It’s not just you two, but everybody who wears them. I’ve tried hard to get past it, but I can’t.”
I’ve refused to allow myself to make the connection until now. It felt rude, but I can’t live the rest of my life like this. Kie and Mason already go out of their way to avoid touching others. Besides, what’s the worst that will happen?
A woman trips over her feet, and when Kie darts forward to catch her, he accidentally grabs her bare arms. It truly wouldn’t devastate me. Humans touch all the time. We don’t value it the way faeries and shifters do.
“I understand if you two feel more comfortable with them,” I continue. I’m backtracking, already regretting insulting something so important to them. “Actually, you should just continue wearing them. I shouldn’t have brought it up. It was rude.”
Mason chuckles, his warm breath hitting my shoulder. “You’re rambling, Abby. We wear the gloves out of respect for you, not for ourselves. Truth be told, I find them uncomfortable. I’ll be glad not to wear them anymore.”
Kie nods, a smile toying at the corners of his lips. He’s laughing at me. He’s not stopping, either. His smile grows, continuing until he’s burying his face into his pillow to hide it. He’s so giddy tonight, and I hesitate before grabbing his hip and gesturing for him to flip around.
He does so without complaint. I’m surprised he isn’t fighting this, and I wrap my arm around his waist before pulling him against my front.
“We call this spooning,” I whisper in his ear. “I’m spooning you.”
Kie stiffens, and a long beat of silence stretches before he finally responds. “Never say that to me again.”
I smirk. I knew he wouldn’t like it, but that’s what he deserves for making me ask Mason about his asshole. I’ve caught glimpses, and it’s not a forest I’m looking to explore. I never want to think about Mason’s asshole again.
Chapter Thirty-One
ABBY
A SHIFT IN the mattress wakes me, and I peek open my eyes just as Kie slinks out of bed. He’s trying to be sneaky, and he’s unsuccessful.
We changed positions during the night. I’m still between Kie and Mason, but we’ve flipped. Kie’s now behind me, hugging me to his chest while I hug Mason to mine. It must be a comical sight. I’m smaller than the two, and our bodies don’t align properly.
Both men easily wrap around me, but I can’t do the same. My knees dig into the tops of Mason’s thighs, and my face is buried against his shoulder blades.
“Come back,” I order Kie, my words muffled as they vibrate against Mason’s back.
“In a minute,” Kie says. “I have to use the restroom.”
Quiet footfalls patter away, and I dig my face into Mason’s shoulder with an exaggerated yawn. Last night was arguably the best sleep of my life, and I hate to admit it might have something to do with the two men who shared my bed.
Mason flips over, half-rolling on top of me in the process. He’s warm, and I frown as I’m pushed onto my back and a sleepy, mussed-hair shifter flops over me. His morning erection ispressing against my hip, incessant and needy.
Mason seems satiated, though. He’s not looking at me with the crazed, horny eyes I’ve grown familiar with seeing these past few days. I’m sure he’d have sex with me in a heartbeat if I asked for it, but he won’t be disappointed when I push him away.
Which I intend to do.
I buck my hips and shove at his shoulder, lifting him just enough that I can wiggle out from underneath him. He drops more weight onto my chest, playfully fighting. His refusal to release me typically flares my anger, but I play along.
I fight Mason, twisting and shimmying until I’m on my stomach. Then I attempt to army crawl off the bed, practically fighting for my life as I slide onto the floor. I’m panting by the time I land on the hard ground, and Mason beams at me from over the side of the bed.
