Page 125 of Claimed By Blood

Now Gideon has planted the seed of an idea in my head, and I can’t help but wonder: what would it be like to have all three of them in bed with me? Silas’s dirty talk, Finn’s eager submission, and Gideon, commanding us all.

Just the thought is enough to make me pant.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-THREE

EVELYN

So beginsa week of relative peace.

One which quietly turns into two while I’m not paying attention. My days quietly start to fall into a routine. At dusk, I join either Vane or Draven on a walk through the village—though the villagers still flee at the sight of us—and occasionally Frost or Gideon will join us. The pack takes turns patrolling the mountainside in pairs, looking for any indication that Cain has found us while Finn monitors the media constantly.

Nothing.

It’s almost like Cain has given up—not that I believe that for a second.

Still, I’m happy to pretend that’s the case. While at the manor, I spend most of my time with Silas and Finn, working on filling the remaining gaps in my education and trying to find small ways to be useful to the resistance. There’s not much I can do with my limited grasp of technology, but I’m learning.

Mostly, I end up distracting the two of them. We often wind up spending hours in bed when we should have been working—not that I’m complaining. If it’s not them fucking me raw, it’s Draven or Gideon pushing me up against a tree whenever we’re out on patrol together.

Overall, I barely manage to go a day without sex, and I love every second of it.

Immy is the one dark point in all of this. Despite both of us being on speaking terms once more, she’s begun to drift away from the rest of the pack. I’m doing my best to give her space, since she so clearly wants it, but her absence is grating on me.

I’d be suspicious if not for the fact that one of my men has an eye on her at all times. If she was working for Cain, surely he would’ve ordered her to plaster herself to my side?

Finn has every piece of tech in the manor under constant surveillance, and Immy has made no outward attempts to contact our sire.

So I suspect she’s just sulking.

Because somehow she thinks being a witch who can’t do magic makes me special, even though it might just have doomed us all.

Her pettiness annoys me more than I care to admit. Since I no longer bother to hide my emotions, I’m probably driving her further away, but I refuse to live my life as a robot because it makes her more comfortable.

The longer we stay here without anything to show for it, the more despondent I become. We’ve combed the manor from dungeon to attic and we’ve foundnothing. Not even a note that mentions witches.

Perhaps it says more about me than it does her, but Immy erecting this silent wall between us feels like she’s punishing me for being a failure.

Sibling fights are nothing new, but she’s beginning to seriously piss me off. More than that, the situation is messing with my head and my sleep. Which is why I’m awake hours before dusk while everyone else is still asleep.

I slip out from underneath Silas, who snuck into my bed in the late hours of the morning, and dress silently in the tactical trousers and dark turtleneck sweater which has become my go-to outfit in the misty, rainy mountains. We’ve been here so long that we could’ve claimed individual rooms, but the foyer of the manor has become our camp site instead. Tents and furniture have been rearranged to apportion each of us our own space and it’s better this way. Like a new home rather than a haunted one.

But it does make it harder to sneak outside without being seen.

Frost grabs my elbow the second I cross the threshold. “Going somewhere, Eve?”

He’s smirking, probably enjoying having caught me in the act, and I arch one eyebrow at him before dragging him out of earshot of the rest of the pack.

“You’ll wake them all up,” I hiss. “And isn’t Vane supposed to be on this watch?”

“He was tired. Woke me early.” Frost shrugs, releasing my arm. “Now, stop dodging the question. What’s up?”

“Can’t sleep,” I reply, glancing across the courtyard.

Of course, the first thing I see is the damned mausoleum. I swear I can’t move without being confronted by it. The white marble gleams in the afternoon sun, and I grimace before turning away from it.

“Do you want to take the walk down to the village early?” I ask him, itching to do something—anything—that might wear off the antsy energy buzzing beneath my skin.

He chews his lip, considering his answer.

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