Page 53 of Regressive

His hand shoots out, fingers rough on my chin, and he lifts my gaze to his. “Fuck no, Little Lamb. It’s not you I’m angry with, it’s…” His whole body stiffens further. “Elon told me what happened on the delivery—how you could have been hurt.” His touch lightens, fingers trailing down my neck. “I’m furious at my father for allowing this to go so far.” The hand by his side clenches tight. “I’m furious that anyone would think they could have you without my permission.”

“It was okay,” I say, taking that fist into my hands and loosening his fingers. “Elon was there. He protected me.”

His blue eyes meet mine. “It’smyjob to protect you.”

“Apparently, it requires more than one man to keep me safe.” I smile up at him. “I’m just thankful you allow the others to be there, too.”

“You like them, don’t you?”

“They’re growing on me,” I admit. “Even Elon.”

“I’m glad. I know it’s unconventional, even in Serendee, to belong to more than one mate, but you’re right. To protect you, to keep you safe, to keep you ours, it has to be all of us.”

We sit like this for a long beat, me holding his hand, him grazing his fingertips along the column of my neck. My heart flutters, the fear having vanished. Having this man’s attention—in a good way—is almost more than I can handle. His eyes dart down to my mouth, and he tilts his head, drawing me in for a kiss.

For once he’s not angry or punishing—there’s no manipulation, and I sink into him, the warmth of his tongue and the feel of his strong jaw. My body buzzes, humming the strains of an invisible music, and God, this is what I’ve been wanting from this man. This kind of tenderness and care.

Apparently, all it took was my life being threatened to bring him to surface.

His hand drops to the buttons at my neckline, working each one out of its hole. It’s painfully tedious, my heart threatening to rip from my chest. I barely hear the front door open and close, although I’m aware of Elon the moment he walks in.

His presence is undeniable.

“Go away,” Rex says, also aware of his friend standing five feet away. He never stops unbuttoning my dress.

“Rex,” Elon says.

He kisses me, deep and long before pulling back to say, “Fuck off. Whatever it is, it can wait.”

His casual but determined banter catches me off guard. Does he want me that much? My body warms and I catch the way his lips quirk, coy and sexy. I can’t help but smile back.

Elon, determined as ever, doesn’t leave. “We have a job.”

Rex sighs and gives me a look that says, ‘don’t move,’ and stands up. “Fuck the job. I need some time with my mate.”

Elon’s eyes meet mine, and I see a dark urgency behind them. As much as I want Rex, this sweet, protective mate to stay at home with me, I squeeze his hand and say, “Go with him. He wouldn’t come in here if it wasn’t important.”

The two men stare at one another for a long moment, but I know that Elon’s going to win when Rex runs a hand through his hair and grunts, “Fine.” He turns to me, grabbing my hand and lifting me from the couch. His hands circle my waist. “We’re not done, Little Lamb.”

I nod and push up on my toes, kissing him on the jaw. His face turns and his lips meet mine, drawing me in for another kiss.

“Be careful,” I say as his hand eases off my hip. I’m spurred to go to Elon. He watches me closely as I take his hand. “You, too. Don’t do anything dangerous.”

He brushes the hair off my cheek and skims his fingers down the side of my face, to my chin. He tilts it up and kisses me. Like everything else about him, it’s hard and full of deep intensity. When he pulls away, I feel wobbly on my feet.

Rex gets his jacket and I notice as he shrugs it on there’s a black gun nestled against the small of his back. He lifts his chin. “Tell Levi and Silas we’ll be back as soon as possible.”

Feeling a chill from seeing the gun, I wrap my arms around my upper body, seeking warmth or assurance. An anxious feeling builds inside of me, and I’m aware that it’s not new, that it’s been growing for days.

Things are about to change and I’m not sure if I’m ready.

When I heara sound at the door, I think it’s Levi or Silas returning home for the night. Neither man emerges and then I realize it’s a knock—soft—barely a tap. I push back the curtain on the window and see a young boy—maybe eight or nine.

“Hello,” I say, opening the door.

“Are you Imogene?”

“Yes.”

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