My nod comes slow, but it’s there. I won’t push away the hands that hold me the way I was always meant to be cherished.
“Together,” I agree through my quiet sobs.
We cry ourselves to sleep, knowing that when the doorbell rings, our lives will be forever changed.
19
These Are My Sins
Arlanna
I don’t expect to wake naturally, without the interruption of a hard knock from the authorities coming to drag me away. I’m not ready to open my eyes. Instead I want to hold on to the quiet for as long as I possibly can.
My hand ghosts over Rafe, only to find that he’s transitioned some time in the night back into his man form. Grayson Knight is the kind of man I never dreamed I’d be lucky enough to wake next to, yet here he is.
Under the blanket, my fingers roam over his side. My nails trill down his hip, thrilled that he’s perfectly nude and resting in my arms. It’s all so grown up. So comfortable and intimate. He radiates warmth, but not feverish heat, which I think means Jen and Paxton did a smashing job of saving his leg.
Gray rolls onto his back, letting me play with the full breadth of his body as I please. I’m addicted to the “mm” sounds he makes, and follow the admissions of pleasure with my eyes closed. My fingernails coax him gently to wakefulness.
Paxton’s hand comes to life, roaming under my shirt and sliding across my stomach. His lips find the crook of my neck. “Good morning, darlyss. Did the world actually let us sleep an entire night through?”
“I can hardly believe it myself.” My throat is scratchy from crying myself to sleep, but that doesn’t stop me from angling my chin toward Paxton for a kiss.
Paxton leans down, but freezes an inch from my lips. “Oh, shite. Good morning, sir.”
The sweetest voice in all the world does a good impression of being surly. “Is it? All I see is my worst nightmare.”
I shoot up from the bed, my mouth open and fresh tears forming. “Sloan? You’re alive?!”
I stumble across the room to the chair he’s claimed and pull him up, grabbing his face so I can make sure he’s real. “You were dead! Regis stole you and…”
Sloan softens only for me, thumbing at my tears, even though it’s a wasted effort. There’s no hope of me ever stopping my sobs now.
“And you acted according to the plan, I see.” He touches my shaved head, marveling at getting to see the wonder up close. “Brilliant girl. I wouldn’t have thought to do this. You cut the king off at the source, I see.”
I lean my forehead to Sloan’s, sniffling at the sight of him. “You told me that if you ever were taken, and they were using you to get to me, to burn whatever they wanted on their front lawn and assume you were dead.”
“You listened well. Did you truly burn your hair on the front lawn of the palace?”
I manage a laugh, though I can’t put my finger on what’s so funny. Maybe it’s pure elation at having my best friend in my grasp that’s hitting me at odd angles. “I didn’t dare take my hair to the palace. But I did burn it in our fireplace. Figured that was safer. I took a video and sent it to him, which was just as good.”
“You’re perfect, as always. But I’m not dead, Arly-girl. Just taking things a little slower this week.”
Gray sits up with a pout, his lips puffy from sleep and his eyes barely open. “You okay, Sloan?”
Sloan stiffens as he turns to take in Gray, who doesn’t bother searching for clothes. “I’m better than you’re about to be, if you don’t get some pants on, young man. You don’t get to lie in a bed, naked with Arly.” His eyes flick to Paxton. “Neither of you do.”
I kiss Sloan’s cheek. “Easy, boy. Gray was a wolf when he went to sleep. Must’ve transitioned in the night by accident. He took a bullet for me, so let’s not make him hop around the room just yet.”
I part from Sloan so I can fish in the drawer and pull out some boxer briefs for Gray. Really, I should have let him pick his own clothes, but I love dressing him, and he doesn’t seem to mind. Besides, the underwear I bought him is soft and clings to his tight backside like a dream from which I never want to wake.
Sloan turns around, his face red. “I can’t watch. Somehow, you dressing a man is so much worse than the actual nudity.”
I chuckle because I can’t not. Gray can’t exactly dress himself, wounded as he is.
I kneel down and slide Gray’s underwear up his legs, making sure nothing touches the wound on his thigh. Examining the stitching up close, I see some of the work has torn. “You need your stitches redone.”
Gray slides his tongue along his lower lip, and then reaches down to kiss me silently, so as not to irk Sloan further. “Jen used regular fae thread. Shifter thread is different. It can hold between our transitions. If I’m stitched up in my animal form and then shift back into a man, the fae thread tears. It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt. Didn’t even bleed much, I don’t think. A fair amount healed enough in my sleep.”
Sloan pulls out his phone and punches in a few numbers. He waits for the reply before looking up at us with a glower. “Well, I guess underwear is better than nothing. Jennifer is just finishing up her breakfast. She’ll be up in a few to look at your leg, Grayson.”
“Cheers, Sloan. And I really didn’t mean to transition in my sleep.”
Sloan holds up his hand. “Save it. I don’t want to talk about that. What I want to talk about is what happened while I was out. Jennifer’s given me the bits she knows, but I’d like the full story from you three directly.” He sits back down in his seat, folding his fingers and resting them on his lap. “Now.”
The only apology or warning I give Gray and Paxton is a sheepish, “I don’t hide anything from Sloan, guys.”
“Then neither do we.” Paxton moves to sit beside me after I plop down next to Gray on the edge of the bed. My prince’s hand slides over my back, which I can tell Sloan is barely tolerating. Both men are in their underwear, though Paxton had the forethought to grab up an undershirt from the drawer and shove it over his head.
I start at the beginning of my part of things. How I shaved my head, sent the video to Regis and assumed Sloan dead. “When I told Father that you were taken, he sent a car for me, telling me I would need a new guard.” My head bows. “It was horrible. You were dead barely a day, and he was already replacing you.”
Sloan’s lips firm up, but he doesn’t sound angry. “He was right to assign a new guard to you. I couldn’t look after you, and that’s not safe.”
“If only that was what he was actually doing.” I make to run my hand through my hair, but my fingers land on air. My missing elbow-length locks are a phantom limb, still calling out to me, even though it’s all gone. “When he picked me up, Uncle Antoni was with him, along with both their guards, so I figured we were going to pick up my new guard. I didn’t ask questions. Maybe I should have.”
“Your father doesn’t like questions,” Sloan reminds me. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”