How do I know this isn’t a setup my father and brother put in place to ship me off to a new realm altogether?
Whose house is this?
Why does he feel safe here, and why would he bring me here?
The sea stone white door slides open without a sound, and then there is no time for further questions.
A lithe man with an intense red mohawk lining his head meets Krave at eye level. His shining eyes are oddly golden and slightly mesmerizing. They don’t say a word to one another as mohawk guy pulls Krave forward and wraps his arms around him in a tight hug.
“Nix,” Krave says, clapping the stranger on the back with the widest smile on his face.
My heart melts. It melts like a puddle at our feet seeing him like this. Even when we were friends, Krave always seemed like he had this weight on his shoulders which my father probably placed there. Now he’s happy.
For the first time in a long time.
“Come in, come in,” Nix says with a voice like smooth caramel.
Krave looks back, and when he sweeps his arm to guide me in, I slip my hand in his. Every hard muscle in his body tenses as a look of awe spreads over his handsome face. He clamps his fingers over my knuckles, and I shiver slightly from the feel of the demon dust lining his touch.
The five of us step inside, and it’s so dark, I can tell it’s deep into the night. We’re interrupting, but it seems Nix is more than happy Krave is here.
“Who’s your friend, Cousin?” Nix asks.
Cousin . . .
The warmth blooms inside my chest once more.
There’s so much I don’t know about him. Krave has never had anyone. Not in the fae realm, anyway. And he’s been stuck there for so long.
“This is—” His gaze slides over my features rapidly, and I can’t help but wonder if his heart’s pounding as hard as mine is.
“I’m his mate,” I answer, saying the words out loud without a hint of anger for the first time in my life.
Krave’s lips part, and he leans in closer to me like he wants to whisper something, but he doesn’t.
I know my attitude is doing a one-eighty on him, and even I’m having a hard time keeping up. It’s just . . . I just—I want him to be happy. All the time.
He’s beautiful when he’s happy. Really happy. I’ve spent years seeing that shitty, cocky smirk on his face.
It’s never been like this.
His other palm slides low down my back until he almost skims the curve of my ass but he stops himself. Inky hair brushes against my temple, and he leans in with that quiet whisper he’s been biting back for the last several minutes.
“You don’t have to pretend for Nix, love,” he says in a heartbreaking whisper.
He says one thing but does another. If he thinks I’m pretending, he’s really taking advantage of it all. Soft lips press to the side of my jaw, and his warmth is all around me.
I feel as confused about us as he does.
“What if I’m not pretending?” I ask in a cutting breath.
His fingers dig in hard over my ass as his eyes close tightly.
“Fuck, Aries,” he rasps out so low it’s barely a whisper.
“It’s a shame incubus only have that one brain in their cocks, isn’t it?” Nix says to the fallen men whom Krave has forgotten to introduce.
Maybe he forgot they existed at all.
“So,” looking back at Krave, Nix folds his arms across his chest and leans against the door jam with a tauning look on his face, “what’s your mate’s name, and who are all these other fucks glaring at you while you paw all over your woman?” the demon asks.
Krave straightens to his towering height, and doesn’t release me as he looks at the other three men around us.
“Ah, yeah, those three are my mate’s lovers,” Krave says with all seriousness.
Nix just makes a face of understanding while I’m left gaping.
“They are not my lovers,” I hiss, like the L word is just as dirty as the F word now.
Someone tall and broad with a gaze that seems eternally pissed off steps slowly into the room without making a sound. I stand between the two strangers, and Krave turns on his heels to pass the new man a wide smile.
“Rhys,” he says with true happiness shining in his inky eyes. His smile pulls hard, revealing that boyish dimple in his cheek.
But the other man, Rhys, he just folds his arms and holds his steely gray eyes on me.
I’m reminded then that my wings are still hidden away, and I could pass as a demon.
Except I don’t feel like I look like one of them, considering how this man is sending me intense death stares.
“She get you in trouble, Krave?” Rhys asks flatly, speaking around me as if I’m not there.
Krave’s smile smolders, but he’s always good at clinging to that false look of humor.
“Only the good kind,” Krave answers mysteriously.
He lies. He’s basically lying to his friend for me.
And I’ve never hated myself more.
Of course I got him in trouble. Our entire lives are just fucking each other’s day up more than it already is. But I guess it is my turn to ruin his life a bit for once.
“I can tell.” That same hard glare trails over my nearly naked body. “Where’s your clothes, fae?” Rhys asks with a hard edge lacing his words.
He clearly knows I’m not one of them.
A solid step sounds through the room, and I feel the heat of Ryke’s body pressing against my back as I stand in the middle of the room and face this man’s brooding hate.
“Is there a fucking problem here?” Ryke growls.
“You’re in my fucking house. If there’s a problem, I will definitely let you know.” Rhys and Ryke’s anger pulses through the room, charged with waiting energy that’s bound to explode.
“Rhys,” Nix puts a hand on Rhy’s shoulder. “We can trust Krave.”
“I trust Krave.” Rhys’s gaze swings to me. “Dark fae born of the fucking Kingdom of Roses, they’re are a different story.”
My palm slides down Ryke’s scars and settles over his drumming heart.
“There’s no problem,” I say in a confident voice, passing everyone in the room a look that I hope means business, coming from a woman wearing nothing more than a few scraps of silk. And gods do I have to look up at them all like a small child lost in the crowed?
Rhys doesn’t seem to hear me at all, and he continues to stare daggers at each of my men—I mean friends.
“Yeah. Well, let’s grab you some clothes. I get the feeling Krave doesn’t think clearly when you’re prancing around in just your Sunday panties.” Rhys turns abruptly and strides up the dark stairwell.
Sunday panties . . . what does that even mean? Is today Sunday?
Whatever.
My feet skim over the smooth floorboards, and just as I’m about to turn into the darkness, a big hand clamps over my wrist. I shiver in response to his firm touch.
Zaviar searches my eyes. His pretty irises are darker here without much lighting, and it makes his constantly brooding gaze feel . . . dangerous.
I wait for him to speak, but he seems not to know what to say for once.
Which is a miracle in itself.
But I know he wants to go with me. I can feel it in his hesitancy. He doesn’t seem to like the idea of me following a strange man into a dark house.