DECOY

DECOY

This is set during Folk's recovery from the bombing raid. It's a tougher road for him than Alexei.

"You don't have to do this every Tuesday."

Rubi glanced up from the mess of his kitchen counters, sugar and glitter in his hair, cake mix splatted on the cabinets from a food fight he'd started. "Deeky, are you trying to cancel my weekly princess party?"

"Fuck no." I checked on Ivy as the curse escaped me. "I mean, definitely not. I'm just saying you don't have to subject yourself to this mayhem that often."

"Mayhem?" Rubi dragged his T-shirt over his head and wiped the batter off the cabinet door with it. "This shit is no different to Riv making a bowl of cereal. Besides, I like a full house—we all do, us old timers. Reminds us of when we were young."

I believed that; it just didn't mean much to me. I still woke up every day convinced I'd die alone until something—or someone —happened to remind me otherwise. "At least let me help clean up."

"Nopety nope." Rubi shooed me away. "Let me feel useful, eh?"

"Useful?" Was he taking the piss? "Mate, I wouldn't be here without you."

I said it almost absently, but it was true. Loving Folk had healed me in ways I'd figured forever broken, but without Rubi and the rest of my brothers, I wouldn't have survived long enough to try.

"Aw, Deeks." Rubi gave me a sticky hug. "We love you, man."

"I love you too."

"Then humour me and go home to your man. Take my Netflix password and have a duvet day."

"It's 7 pm."

"Cuddle night then. Whatever. Just focus on Folksie and on each other, okay? Little miss is safe here with me."

Ivy was beyond safe. I took another peek into the living room. She was on the couch with Liliana, trying to copy the intricate roses Liliana had drawn on Saint's wrist. She was using a lime green Sharpie, so I didn't rate her chances, but he didn't seem to mind. For a dude who didn't like to be touched, his tolerance for Ivy's exuberance was biblically impressive.

I'd already said goodbye to her, and with Uncle Saint for company, she didn't give a single shit that I was leaving. So, I took Rubi's advice—and his Netflix password—and went home.

I found Locke outside, smoking on the front step with his phone pressed to his ear, whoever he was talking to speaking fast and loud enough to make him wince.

His daughter then. Locke had been a constant in my house for a while now, and she called a lot, at random times of day and night, her end of the conversation as chaotic as Rubi's kitchen.

I clapped Locke on the shoulder, content to leave him to it, but he signalled for me to wait. "Wills, I'll call you back."

He hung up and accepted my hand to haul himself to his feet, wincing a little. I'd noticed that too since he'd become a regular fixture in my house—that subtle cringe, and the way he sometimes rubbed the base of his spine. An injury? Not one he'd mentioned, but other than the certainty that he was a solid bloke and a fellow harassed girl dad, I didn't know much about him at all.

"Folk's asleep," he said before I could ask. "I packed him off to bed an hour ago, so he didn't have to get up again if he woke up on the couch."

"Is he okay?"

"No." Locke softened the negative with his crinkle-eyed grin, tapping his temple. "But he's good where it matters. Folk's the toughest motherfucker I've ever met."

I couldn't argue with that, and Locke had known Folk far longer than I had. But they didn't share a bed. Locke didn't see Folk gasping awake and reaching for a weapon. He didn't see him reach for me in the dark as if I was the only thing that could save him. "Did he eat?"

Locke nodded. "Cam made a drop. There's leftovers in the fridge. Then we watched The Last Crusade."

"Indiana Jones again?" The faint grin felt good on my face, helped along by the image of Cam O'Brian, the tougher than tough president of the Rebel Kings MC, embracing his calling as a meals on wheels delivery service.

"Hey, it's comfort watching." Locke gave me a one-armed hug. "And he likes complaining about historical inaccuracies."

"He does?"

"Are you serious?" Locke's expression turned droll. "Don't ask him about it. You seem to enjoy his company and I'd hate to ruin that."

My cautious grin turned into an actual laugh, and a flood of tension left my soul. The last few weeks had been...fucking hell. I didn't have the words for it. But this—a normal conversation with Locke while Folk was asleep upstairs, safe and so very nearly whole—it was everything I needed. The only thing missing was Ivy, and as Locke said his goodbyes and left, I found myself sitting on the stairs, tugging my boots off with one hand and texting with the other.

Decoy: is she ok? i can pick her up if she gets restless

I fired the message off to Rubi.

A reply came a few seconds later, from River, in the form of a photo of Ivy curled up on Rubi's lap, both sleeping with their mouths open. It wasn't beyond Rubi to talk her into pretending, but I knew my daughter's sleep face, and she was gone.

Wow. Another laugh escaped me. I'd left her twenty minutes ago. If Rubi was the magic sauce to getting my kid to sleep, he was gonna have to move in.

At least, he would've if I didn't already have a bona fide magician living with me.

I pocketed the phone and ditched my boots. My stomach growled, but the call to Folk was stronger, and I jogged upstairs, keeping my footsteps as light as I could manage without Folk and Alexei's superpowers.

The landing window was open.

I moved to close it, then caught my first glimpse of Folk and forgot all about it.

He was on the bed, naturally, not in it. Since he'd come home from his wild trip with Alexei, he didn't seem to be a fan of sheets covering him unless I was there, and the blanket bunched around his feet let me know that Locke's best efforts at combatting that had failed.

The room was cold. I went back to the landing window and shut it. Then I took a shower and dumped my street clothes in the basket to worry about later, swiping some clean—thanks to Orla—sweats from the radiator.

I padded back to the bedroom, absently studying my phone for messages, and checking my phone was set to ring like an air raid siren if Ivy needed me. I was laser-focused on getting to a place where I could give Folk my undivided attention.

So much so that I missed him waking up, rolling off the bed, and coming close enough to drop his chin on my shoulder.

"Everything okay?"

If he'd been anyone else, I might've jumped out of my skin. As it was, my body reacted on instinct, relaxing into him. Drawn to him, a primal attraction I couldn't have resisted if I'd wanted to.

I didn't want to.

Loving Folk scared me, but I was all in, now and forever, and I'd known it even before I'd nearly lost him.

Don't think about that.

An easier feat than I'd have imagined if I'd ever thought about how it would feel to know your soulmate had bombed a mafia boat in the middle of the North Sea. Maybe it was a defence mechanism. Who cared? All I knew was that when I had nothing but Folk on my mind, that was it. Him. I didn't give a fuck about anything else.

I tossed my phone on the bed and turned to face him, wrapping my arms around him in a careful embrace. A few weeks had passed since his deep-sea diving exploits, but he was still in a lot of pain. Still fatigued enough to lean on me while I rubbed at the sore spots in his muscles and joints. "All right?"

His hummed answer was ambiguous. And unsurprising. Folk was as honest as the day was long, but he wasn't much good at admitting he wasn't okay. I'd had to learn, fast, how to read between the lines. To pay attention to the smaller things, like the heaviness in his posture, and the lack of actual words that was more characteristic of Saint than of him.

I eased back and took his hands. "Come on."

Folk let me guide him to the bed and ease us both down, in the bed this time, instead of on it. His long, lean body stretched out against my bulkier frame. His aching legs wrapped around mine, his head on my chest.

I pressed my face into his hair. It smelled of the same shampoo I'd just used—the lilac berry-scented one Mateo had bought for Ivy when he was shopping for Liliana, because despite his brittle exterior, he was as soft and kind as Rubi.

Closing my eyes, I took another deep inhale, searching for Folk's herbal-ocean scent, but not entirely hating that he smelled the same as I did right now. Loving that his palm skated over my abdomen, a lazy circle that lit every inch of my skin with the sweetest burn.

I miss him . Before this, his hand might've travelled lower, and I might've died a beautiful death at the mercy of the bewitching, holistic beat of his cock buried deep inside me. But Folk wasn't there yet. And he wasn't going to be for a while. Because despite the heady rush of his touch, the subtle tension of chronic pain hummed beneath the surface, an ever-present ghost that wasn't fading, no matter how much time and rest we threw at it.

I kissed his temple, craving his bright gaze and clever conversation. Mourning everything about him that the Sambini raid had stolen from us.

Don't think about that, remember?

Okay. Some days it was easier than others.

Folk shifted, putting paid to any suspicions I had about him falling asleep. He folded his arms beneath him, propping his head on them. "Where's Ivy?"

"Sleeping at Rubi's."

"It's Tuesday?"

"So they say."

Folk slow-blinked. "You could tell me it was Christmas Eve and I'd believe you."

"Brain fog?"

Folk hummed again. "It's better when I'm with you."

It was starting to get dark, distorting his handsome face with shadows that concealed the strain in his face as he rose from the bed and moved, slowly, to the bathroom. He was past the stage of needing help, but I counted every second he was gone. Clenched my fists as I watched him limp back to bed.

To my bed.

I shifted to face him as he slipped under the covers again.

He'd come back without his T-shirt, and he settled even closer than he'd been before. We were almost nose to nose, and it still bemused me that this—that I—was the one he wanted to do this with. These days, Lauren's voice in my head was as distant as she was, but in moments like this, when almost everything was perfect, she was fucking deafening.

"You're boring—you always have been."

"Hey." Folk grazed my jaw with a light touch. "Where did you go?"

"Nowhere nice."

"Want to talk about it?"

About Lauren? No. She'd taken enough of my life without invading my time with Folk too. "I'm good."

Folk never pushed me. He kissed me instead and that blew my mind as much as his bare chest colliding with mine, clearing my brain of all rational thought. Of restraint, though I kept my head enough to be careful as I tipped him onto his back, keeping my weight from him.

"Seth." Folk kissed me again. "I'm not going to break."

Seth . It was my name, chosen by strangers, but it hit different when he said it. Folk had made it mean something. But it sometimes took me a second to realise he was talking to me. Even longer for his next words to sink in. I'm not going to break . I knew that. I kissed him a little harder, my hand drifting to his hip and under it, bearing down on him with no conscious thought until I realised what I was doing.

Damn. My dick was suddenly so hard I'd likely spend the night digging a hole in the mattress, a thought that drove a legitimate groan from my gut.

Folk laughed, a low, husky sound that did nothing to calm me down. "Can I tell you something?"

I gave him a little space. "Of course."

Folk tugged me back to him. "When I can move without crying, I really, really , want you to fuck me."

I blinked, shocked, though I had no right to be.

You need to tell me your limits, because I don't have any.

That conversation seemed a lifetime ago, but in reality had been recent enough that I could still remember how his dick had felt in my hand that morning on my couch. How he'd shown me the scar on his belly afterwards, and I'd had no fucking clue how deep it really went. "You really want me to fuck you?"

Folk gripped my wrist and guided my hand lower, to where his cock strained the confines of his loose cotton trousers. "I wish I could show you how much, but I'd probably die in the process."

"Don't even joke about that."

Folk nuzzled my jaw.

I squeezed him on instinct, and the gravelly moan I heard in my dreams rumbled out of him. "You like that?"

"Is that a real question?"

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You couldn't if you tried."

Sweet, but the shower hurt him these days, the spray too harsh against his oversensitive muscles, and I couldn't be the reason he cringed in pain.

So, I stroked him with such caution I barely moved my hand, teasing pleasure from him in slow waves that made him tremble and hide his face in my shoulder. That made him shudder through a low groan that seemed to come from a place far far away from the sanctuary of my bed.

It was so sweet. So hot. So fucking precious I didn't dare move for a while, until the need to clean up made itself known—a cursory wipe down I'd rectify later, when Folk inevitably fell asleep again and the sensation of his soft kiss to my cheek was enough to keep me company all night long.

"I love you."

"I love you." I pushed his unruly hair back from his face, swallowing another pointless urge to ask him if he was okay. "You need anything? Tea? Food?"

Folk curled closer to me, seeking the comfort of my warmer body, even though he'd just come hard enough to make him tremble. "You're all I've ever needed."

Another reality that baffled me. And I was still hungry, but I had Folk in my arms and Rubi's Netflix password. With Ivy safe with her army of uncles, I had everything I needed too.

Didn't stop me spending most of my evening staring at him, though. Folk was a quiet sleeper when he wasn't caught in a nightmare. So still. I lost count of the number of times I loomed over him to check he was breathing.

Let him be. He's fine.

He wasn't, and my gut instinct when it came to Folk was still learning, but it was attuned enough to him to know what was bothering him most wasn't physical.

Folk was strong. Resilient. And he'd spent his entire adult life with the toughest military units in the world. He can handle pain . And he was. But what about the rest of it?

It was the middle of the night when he next stirred. His hand came to my wrist, fingers wrapping around it as if the first thing his conscience demanded was to know for sure that I was real.

I let it happen, rubbing his back until he raised his head. "All right?"

Folk frowned. "Why are you awake?"

"Why are you?"

He didn't answer. He got up and limped to the bathroom. Pretty sure he puked, but I couldn't be certain. And I didn't ask when he came back fresh from another shower. Resilient, remember? He had this. He wasn't okay, but he would be. I believed that with every fibre of my being.

Folk lay down again, breathing slow, even breaths through his nose. It was a little while before he rolled closer to me.

I was ready with open arms, awed, as always, at how easily his body moulded to mine, a perfect fit. "Can I ask you something?"

Folk pressed his lips to my heart. "Anything."

"Is this as bad as it was when you were sick?"

"No." He answered without hesitation. "I was climbing the walls back then. If it had been like this, I'd never had taken what they prescribed me."

Which led me to my next horrible, invasive question. But I had to know. "Do you feel like you'd take it now? If someone offered it to you?"

Folk eased back to meet my gaze—something that probably mattered to him more than to me. I didn't need to see his face to know he wouldn't lie. "If I was alone with this...then maybe, and that's how it's always going to be. But I'm not alone, am I? Even when you're not here, Locke's right here, or someone else, and the truth is, it hasn't crossed my mind. The one day I thought it might, Cam brought Ivy home early with that puzzle thing and those potatoes."

I remembered that. Cam. How he always seemed to know when brothers needed him most. He and Folk didn't talk much, but he'd stayed close all evening, not leaving until Ivy was in bed and I could give Folk my undivided attention, and I'd loved him then almost as much as I did now. "You don't have to tell me if it gets on top of you, but promise me you'll tell someone?"

"Seth." Folk kissed my cheek. "I would tell you. And I'd tell Locke. And my sister. You know why?"

"Why?"

He kissed me again. "Because I'm the luckiest man in the world."