Page 56 of Redeemed
Of course they’d worry about me. No way I deserve having these two men in my life. “I’m sorry. Sorry you were worried, sorry I took off, and profoundly sorry I hurt you, Trajan.” I close the gap between us, staring straight into the depths of his dark eyes. “I’m sorry,mo shíorghrá.You deserve better than that from me.”
“This is one of the rare occasions when I would have preferred a lie to the truth.”
His words are harsh, but his tone is kind. He takes hold of my hand and rubs his thumb over the thin skin on the underside of my wrist. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper, earning a grimace.
“I know,amore mio, but next time let’s not do anything worth apologizing for.” He pulls me into an embrace and I go willingly, gratefully, relieved beyond measure that he might forgive me.
“That’s right. Kiss and make up,” David says, and I fully support his directness. I want to put my lips on Trajan, to wrap my body around him, to feel his cool skin and breathe in his dusty vampire scent.
“I will do whatever it takes to rid myself of Jacques Betancourt. You are safe from me, Connor. I will never obey my maker again.”
“And I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
David slides between us. “We’ve gone days without seeing each other. I want, no, I need to be close to you both.”
Amused by his declaration, I wrap an arm around his waist. “I’m not sure we have time for what you have in mind.”
“We absolutely do.” He grabs my wrist and reaches for Trajan. “We don’t have to have sex, but I want all three of us in a puppy pile before we do anything else.”
Trajan and I share a glance over David’s head. “Can you?” I ask. Trajan closes his eyes, his lips compressed.
“How long has it been since you fed?” David’s question is gentle, but he hasn’t let go of either of us.
“I hit up a hospital for some blood earlier this evening.”
David gags. “You need to feed properly. Come on, both of you. We’ve got at least an hour before sunrise.”
“Oh, I should probably tell you—”
“You can tell me anything you want, Guido, when we’re in bed.” David spins away from us, loosening the sarong and letting it fall. The shirt follows, and the sight of his bare ass disappearing through the doorway is all the motivation I need. Trajan’s already on his way and damned if his shirt doesn’t hit the floor before he goes through the doorway.
I hold back, not because I don’t want them, but because I do. I’m reluctant to test Trajan with Jacques still in play.
“Hey, Snoop, get in here.” There’s enough command in David’s tone to nudge me toward the door.
“Who’s Snoop?” Trajan asks.
“Had to come up with a new one because we met a real phouka and I owe Connor an apology for every time I called him Pookie.”
Trajan’s laugh sounds so normal I can’t stop myself, leaving a trail of clothing on my way. The room’s not any bigger than the front room, with barely enough space to walk around the queen-sized bed. A lamp is on the narrow nightstand near Trajan’s head, but it can’t have more than a 20-watt bulb. David’s in the middle of the bed, propped against Trajan, who’s sitting upright. I get in on the opposite side from Trajan and roll onto my side, draping a leg across David’s calves.
We’re quiet for a while, and though at first I don’t think it’s possible, my mind does slow down. The steady rhythm of their breathing soothes me. If Trajan’s bothered by my nearness, he doesn’t let it show.
“This,” David says on a sigh. “Pack needs to stick together.”
“I’m sorry.” Trajan’s voice is soft, but there’s a core of strength there. “I couldn’t get rid of his voice in my head.”
“He’s still there?” David asks. I’m too busy holding my breath to speak.
“Yes, but I’m getting better at tuning him out.”
David twists around so he can give Trajan a raised eyebrow. “What changed?”
“Me.”
I’m pretty damned sure there’s more to this story, but as the King of Secrets, I’m in no place to demand a full recount. David teases his fingers through my hair and his touch brings such comfort it chases away all other thoughts.
“So, about Cliffe,” Trajan says after a while. That makes David stiffen, and not in a fun way.
