Chapter 39

“Your bodyguard won’t stop looking at you,” Tessa whispers conspiratorially from where she sits across the table.

The cafeteria is loud and raucous this morning. News of Rion’s arrival has spread like wildfire. Everyone is curious about the elusive gang king. But rivaling the curiosity is fear and anger; the shifters have hurt a lot of people, and the demand for blood permeates the room.

“Damien?” I inquire, despite already knowing the stone-faced mage is lurking in the corner of the room. I can feel his eyes like a physical brand burning my flesh. None of the guys liked the idea of me visiting the cafeteria without them present, despite Braelyn’s insistence that she’ll look after me. It’s no surprise that Damien followed me. I’m pretty sure Bronson and Kai are guarding the hallway as well.

Their overprotectiveness causes liquid pleasure to cascade through my veins. While some may find it suffocating, I find it comforting. They each have embedded themselves in my soul, my genetic makeup, and I know they’ll protect me from any future harm.

“God, he won’t stop looking at us,” Haley hisses.

“Not us,” Jenny contests quietly. “Nina.”

“The girl with the golden vagina,” jests Haley, but I sense no malice in her words.

There’s a whacking noise, and Haley releases a pained groan. “You stop that disgusting talk,” Rebecca chastises. “We may be prisoners, but we’re still civil. Behave like a proper lady.”

Haley mumbles something inarticulate as the rest of us laugh.

“The entire cafeteria is looking at us,” Braelyn laments, voice dark. I know she’s gesturing to herself and Jenny.

Kai’s gang doesn’t seem to know how to deal with the shifters’ sudden arrival. Kai has assured his people that they mean us no harm, but one man’s affirmation doesn’t negate the centuries of prejudice and discourse. For as long as anyone can recall, shifters have been the enemy. No one can expect the social standings to change overnight.

Even Kai doesn’t trust the shifters completely, hence Damien’s presence.

“It’s because of your stunning good looks,” Jenny teases. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about the two shifter females who have pledged their loyalty to me, it’s that Braelyn is brass to the point she comes across as rude, while Jenny is shy and quiet. The two of them are as different as night and day, yet they complement each other perfectly.

“Thanks, babe,” Braelyn drawls, and I imagine she’s rolling her eyes. Still, she sounds slightly flustered by her mate’s words.

“I still can’t believe Rion is here,” Haley breaks in around a mouthful of food.

“I don’t understand why,” Tessa adds, and there’s a distinct hitch to her voice that I can’t quite place.

At Rion’s insistence, we’ve been keeping the revelation of our bond a secret.

“The world can’t know you’re my weakness,”he had said earnestly.

All they know is that Rion is negotiating peace with Kai and that Braelyn and Jenny have become friends with me.

“It’s because of a girl.” Rebecca huffs. “It’s always because of a girl.”

Haley chuckles, and Tessa’s breath hitches once again. Something about her reaction makes me uneasy. My blood simmers in my veins as a nest of snakes slithers and hisses in my stomach.

Racking my brain to change the subject, I ask, “What have you guys been up to lately?”

Tactful, no. Helpful, yes.

Immediately, the ladies regale me with stories about their weeks in the prison since we last caught up.

Haley is in the midst of telling us a story about her Incubi lover when I feel hands on my shoulders.

Startled, I drop into Rebecca’s head.

Rion stands behind me, looking as gorgeous as ever. Dark hair frames a proud and arresting face. Chiseled cheekbones, a strong jawline, and jubilant eyes complete the ensemble. There’s a beauty to him—a barbaric, untamed type of beauty—that reels me in like a fish on a hook. With his sleeves pushed up, I’m able to see the numerous tattoos coloring his tawny skin.

“Ladies,” Rion says with a wink. Haley giggles, ducking her head, and Tessa’s eyes go wide, pupils dilating. A wistful expression crosses her pretty face as she stares up at the shifter.

Braelyn and Jenny are the only two who don’t seem mesmerized by his beauty. If anything, they look annoyed at his intrusion.

Braelyn quirks a brow. “Don’t trust me?”

Rion’s grin grows as he intertwines our fingers.

“Excuse me, ladies, but can I borrow Nina? I have something I need to talk to her about.” Without waiting for their response, he tugs me out of the seat, eyes dancing with mischief. My confusion grows as he begins to drag me out of the congested cafeteria. I thought we decided to keep our relationship—if you can even call it that—a secret.

But Rion does what Rion wants. I don’t know why I expected anything different from the enticing, eccentric man.

Just before I pull out of Rebecca’s head, I catch a glimpse of Tessa’s face contorted with unbridled rage. Hurt flashes in her eyes as she stares after us. I pull myself out of Rebecca’s head, stomach churning uncomfortably.

What did I do wrong? Is it because Rion showed interest in me? Is it because I left them?

As my mind races, so does my heart—anger, hurt, and frustration vying for attention.

Rion pulls me out of my thoughts with his next words.

“I want to take you on a date,” he says abruptly, pulling me to a stop in the hallway.

“What?”

“A date,” he repeats. He places his lips to my ear, and warmth radiates through my body, accompanied by a kaleidoscope of emotion. “I want to take you on a date.”

A date. With Rion.

The thought both exhilarates and terrifies me. I imagine a date with Rion would be just as crazy as him. He’s an enigma, someone I can’t quite understand but yearn to know more about. One moment, he’s silly and teasing, and the next, he’s a stone-cold killer. I still remember his voice when he threatened Braelyn.

Who exactly is Rion?

“Earth to Buttercup.” Rion snaps his fingers in front of my face. “Do I need to get a space shuttle? Learn to moonwalk? I tried moonwalking once, but I tripped over a plant and broke my wrist. And ass. Did you know you can break an ass? I didn’t. Apparently, it’s a real fucking thing. And when I say ‘fucking’ thing, I mean it literally. It can happen when someone fucks you in the asshole real hard.” He pauses, breathing unevenly, before continuing. I wonder if he can even help himself. “I’m not propositioning you for anal. Don’t worry about that. I am, however, asking you on a date. A real date. Not a fake date. I was going to take you to one of those classes where you can get drunk and paint pictures, but the last time I tried crafting, I glued my hand to my face. Ten out of ten, would not recommend.”

“Rion,” I cut in, gripping his face between both my hands. Though I can’t see him, I picture his tawny skin framed by thick black hair. God, I wish I could see him. Actually see him and not just rely on others” perceptions. You never know whose vision of the world is skewed. “You want to take me on a date?”

“Either that or sleep,” he confesses. “It’s the cat in me. Actually, if you have yarn, I can play with that. Shit. No. Abort. Abort. Abort. Playing with yarn on a date is not what the lady wants, is it? Don’t answer that! I can use my mate-mind-reading capabilities to tell you the answer would be no. Just kidding. I don’t have any mate-mind-reading capabilities.” His body shakes beneath my hands as he practically bounces with excitement.

I think he’s wrong about being an extension of his animal. Rion is a puppy personified.

His enthusiasm is infectious and brings a smile to my lips. If I could, I would bottle up Rion’s essence and inhale it deeply. There are very few people who can make me smile like he can.

“Wolf Man already had his turn,” Rion continues, and I can almost picture his luscious lips pushing out in a pout. “It’s time for Cat Man to show you a purr-fect evening. Wait. Don’t quote me. That sounded ten times better in my head.”

“Yes,” I cut in before he can continue rambling. He’s a verbal freight train barreling straight towards a brick wall. But, for some reason, I find it endearing. “I would love to go on a date with you.”

“Thank fuck, or this would’ve been super awkward. Come on! I already have it set up.” He recaptures my hand and leads me down the musty-smelling halls. A moment later, he pushes open a door and guides me through.

I slide into his head to realize we’re in the throne room. A single easel sits in the center of the room, a barrage of paint on a table beside it. In front of Kai’s throne, Abel rests on a sofa cushion, naked, with a blanket covering his groin.

“Um…?” My cheeks blaze as I take in his expansive, golden chest, blond hair, and muscular thighs. An easygoing smile dons his face.

I haven’t talked to Abel and Cain about what I saw in Abel’s mind. His encounter with Lionel feels personal. They’ve been more reserved since they returned, lost in thought more often than not. I know that I wouldn’t want someone sifting through my mind without permission. I did tell the twins, however, about my abilities, both of which they took as well as I expected. Needless to say, not that well.

I can’t forget the flicker of pain that crossed both their faces at my confession. The betrayal. The hurt. Despite their grim smiles, I know I’d hurt them immensely by omitting the truth.

It’s been a week, and Cain has yet to talk to me.

“I lied earlier!” Rion’s vision shakes as he jumps up and down. “We’re totally painting and drinking wine.”

“Errr…”

“You’ll paint Abel first while I focus on him for you, and then I’ll paint you. It’ll be super fun!”

“I’ve been sitting like this for two fucking hours,” Abel gripes. “Do you know how awkward it is to have my brother walk through the door and see me in all my glory? I think I traumatized the poor bastard, despite the fact we have identical fucking bodies—even our cocks.”

Cocks.

My cheeks turn even redder as all my blood flows there.

“Don’t worry.” Rion presses his lips to my temple. “We won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with. If you want to do something else, we can. If you want Abel to leave, he will. You’re in charge, Buttercup. Always.”

My stomach twists as I stare at Abel through Rion’s eyes. He really is a work of art. Though he isn’t as muscular as Bronson or even Kai, defined muscles make up his arms and stomach. There’s a spattering of golden hair trailing beneath the blanket.

And the blanket…

As my breath hitches, my mind utterly enraptured, the blanket begins to tent with Abel’s arousal.

“Fuck, Bambi. You can’t look at me like that. I don’t want to blow a load with Rion’s eyes on me. I’m into a lot of kinky shit, but that’s next level.”

Rion snorts, guiding me towards the easel. I honestly don’t understand how they expect me to paint Abel with no vision.

“You should be honored,” Rion huffs at Abel. “My eyes have been known to give multiple people orgasms. They don’t call it an eye-fuck for nothing.”

Placing his hands on my shoulders, Rion positions me how he wants me. This angle allows him to see the top of my head, the easel, the paint, and Abel still languidly propped up on the floor.

“I’ll probably paint you looking like a cactus or something by mistake,” I admit with a blush, grabbing the paintbrush from the table and dipping it into the yellow paint.

“You don’t have to be good, Bambi. I’ll love and cherish it, even if it sucks ass,” Abel calls. He moves to get himself into a more comfortable position, his hand resting on his hip as the blanket slides down even lower, revealing dark pubic hair.

Heat throbs through me, settling in my lower region. I press my thighs together tightly, hoping the pain will abate.

“While you paint, I’m going to ask you some questions,” Rion says, gaze momentarily flicking down towards me before he corrects himself. “I want to get to know my beautiful, perfect mate.”

“I’m not perfect,” I protest meekly, using the yellow to paint Abel’s hair. It doesn’t quite encapsulate the hues of gold scattered throughout, darkening the strands, but it’s the best I can do with the limited supplies I have. “How did you even get the paint?”

“Damien knows a guy,” Rion replies dismissively. “Now, we’ll start easy. Have you ever painted before?”

“No,” I answer instantly, dipping my brush in a cup of water. Using Rion’s vision for guidance, I blend some white and brown paint together. “Never. I don’t think I’ve really doodled before, either.”

I think Rion is going to ask me to elaborate, but graciously, he changes the subject. “Grey’s Anatomy or The Vampire Diaries?”

“Huh?” I pause mid-stroke to quirk a brow at him.

“You never watched Grey’s?” he asks in horror.

“Team McDreamy,” Abel calls.

“We’ll have to change that straight away,” Rion agrees. “Do you remember the cell I first brought you to? I have a television there that I might be able to connect to Netflix. You know, because I’m awesome and all that.”

“And so incredibly modest.” I giggle, focusing on the painting once more. Unfortunately, Abel’s body resembles more of a blob than any human anatomy I’ve ever seen before. “Do you have two cells? The one we visited on the shifter side of the prison is in a different location than the other one.”

Cheeks crimson, I begin working on Abel’s nether region with a dollop of red paint. I draw the “blanket” over his thighs and just below his belly button.

“I have two cells,” Rion admits. “One is with the other shifters, and the other—the one I took you to—is in an entirely separate hallway, not a part of either gang. It’s a place I can be myself without worrying about the pressures—and why does Abel look like he’s taking a mean shit?” Rion’s vision cants to the side as he tilts his head, focusing on my painting.

“It does not!” I protest immediately, though now that he’s mentioned it, I can see the resemblance.

And this is even before I started working on Abel’s facial features.

“Don’t worry, Bambi,” Abel says easily, playing with the golden hairs on his chest. “I’ll take a shit every day of my life if it means being with you.” He winks at me, face glowing with mirth.

“I’m sure that was supposed to be romantic, but it came across as a little weird,” Rion muses. “Now, I can’t stop picturing you kneeling over Nina and shitting in her?—”

“Stop!” I squeal, placing my hands over my ears. I barely resist singing “la, la, la” until they stop talking.

“So, you don’t have a poop fetish, Buttercup?” Rion queries with amusement.

“No! Stop it! Ew!” I whack him with the brush, paint splattering. Still, I can stop the giggles from shaking my body.

Out of all the guys, Abel and Rion are the most lighthearted. It’s very, very rare that I see cracks in their jubilant masks. They embody a warmth and light that seep into my very soul, setting me aflame.

“My turn!” Rion cheers suddenly, grabbing my shoulders and spinning me around. I place my hands on his waist to steady myself, and his muscles contract under my touch. His attentive gaze causes heat to bloom across my body, unfurling like a flower in spring.

“Your turn…?” My question is answered when Rion grabs the paintbrush out of my hands and trails it down my cheek. My jaw slackens, eyes widening, at the cold liquid.

“Rion!” I squeak, pulling out of his head and dancing away.

“I’m right behind you, Bambi. I’m not going to hurt you,” Abel says softly—a warning. A moment later, his strong arms wrap around my chest, holding me steady. For the first time, this position doesn’t trigger a flashback. I know that it’s Abel who has me, and I know he’ll never intentionally hurt me.

I laugh, the sound utterly carefree and joyous, as Rion’s footsteps get closer and closer. His hot breath wafts across my lips.

“I told you I was going to paint you,” he purrs, brushing paint down my other cheek and to my neck.

“You’ll ruin my clothes,” I protest, breathless from laughter. Abel’s teeth clamp down on my earlobe, and my laughter quickly dissipates. My breathing, however, remains ragged.

“Then, perhaps we’ll have to take them off of you,” Abel whispers seductively. My heart ricochets around my rib cage.

“I’ve never felt this way before,” Rion adds, taking another step closer. At this point, there is only a sliver of space between my lips and his. “You hold me in such a way that I don’t feel broken.”

I’m panting now, consumed by an insatiable need I have only ever felt with first Bronson and then Kai. Rion steps back, and I suddenly miss his warmth.

Abel presses languid kisses down my neck and to my shoulder, pushing down the strap of my gown. “Do you want me to stop?” he whispers against my skin.

“No.” My answer takes even me by surprise as he slips the other strap off my shoulder.

My dress pools around my feet, leaving me in only a lace bra and tiny panties. Heart hammering, I push myself into Rion’s mind once more.

The sight before me is erotic and sends my lust skyrocketing.

The gauzy material of my bra does very little to conceal my cleavage. My beaded nipples are noticeable through the fabric. Lower, I see that my panties are visibly soaked through.

Abel stands directly behind me, kissing my neck and shoulders. He’s still naked, but this time, he doesn’t have a blanket obscuring his cock from view. He holds his body a bit away from mine—no doubt, not wanting to scare me—but through Rion’s eyes, I can see the long, erect length of his cock.

I pull myself out of my shifter’s eyes once more, content to experience this moment in my customary darkness. I don’t understand a lot of things, but the dark? I understand it intimately. I embrace it like you would an old friend.

Without sight, I can focus on my other senses. Abel’s lips feathering kisses across my skin. His hands on the waistband of my underwear. The smoothness of his face as he nuzzles my neck.

“Rion,” I whisper, wanting him. Needing him.

Abel’s hand travels to the clasp of my bra, expertly undoing it and pushing it off my shoulders. “Isn’t she beautiful?” he asks, kneading my heavy globes. His thumbs and fingers twist my nipples, eliciting a hiss of pleasure from my lips.

“I need to paint her,” Rion replies in a soft voice.

As Abel pushes down my underwear, his cock brushing my wet entrance, Rion moves closer to me once more. The brush, which I know to still be slick with red paint, travels down the valley of my heaving breasts. The combined stimulations are nearly overwhelming—Abel’s hands on my thighs and the whiskers of the brush against my chest.

Rion paints a circle around one nipple and then the other before lowering.

“Rion,” I groan, placing my hands on his shoulders.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes. “A work of art. My muse.”

When the brush reaches the inside of my thighs, I can’t stop the desperate mewl that leaves my parted lips. I want him to touch me, but at the same time…

“I don’t want paint in my vagina,” I whisper, resting my head on Abel’s shoulder. My words bring a spurt of laughter out of first Abel and then Rion.

“Don’t worry, my love.” Rion’s voice sounds from farther below, as if he has dropped to his knees. “I’ll put something else in there instead.” The next moment, his tongue licks my slit, tasting me. I jolt into Abel, gasping and reaching out to grab the top of Rion’s head to hold him to me. He pulls back with a groan. “Fuck, you taste good.”

He brings his lips back to my mound as his fingers press at the bundle of nerves. Abel turns my face towards his, kissing me fiercely as his hands drop to my breasts. Kneading the skin, he moans against my lips, muttering indecipherable praises.

“I want to feel you,” I say breathily. Despite my encounters with Bronson and Kai, I haven’t ever felt a cock in my hand. I’ve never felt the need to pleasure a man like that before this moment.

“Yes,” Abel agrees, guiding my hand to his cock. The hardness belies how soft it actually feels beneath my palms, the skin and muscles contradicting one another. It’s smooth velvet over steel. I run my fingers over the tip, my hand coming away wet and sticky.

As Rion continues to pleasure me from below, my body lighting up in pleasure, I work on memorizing the feel and shape of Abel’s cock. I want him to feel the lust and desire that I’m feeling. I want him to unravel completely with me, one string at a time. When I reach his balls, Abel releases a hiss of air, his cock jumping in my other hand.

“Sorry!” I say instantly, pulling my hand away. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Fucking hell, woman, don’t stop,” Abel breathes, pulling my hands back to his throbbing member. I begin to stroke him base to tip, reveling in every sharp intake of breath and grunt he makes. “Faster. Fuck, faster.”

Rion pulls his lips away from me abruptly, and I cry out at the loss of contact. Before I can protest, Rion pulls me into a desperate, feverish kiss. I taste myself on his lips, and my arousal ratchets up ten notches at the erotic flavor.

“I want to be inside of you,” he pleads.

“God, yes,” I cry, reaching for him with my free hand. He stealthily steps away, and I hear the sound of clothes being ripped off. A moment later, he stands in front of me once more, his cock inches from my dripping channel.

“Are you sure?” Rion asks, hands cupping my breasts, despite the paint he placed on them.

“Yes,” I moan, stroking Abel faster. The trickster demon’s breath hitches as he turns my face to kiss my lips once more. His kiss is possessive and needy, claiming me as thoroughly as I claim him. Our tongues tangle together in a story of passion and lust.

Rion enters me slowly, lifting one of my legs to hold me steady, and allows me to adjust to his girth. He’s thicker than Kai, his cock filling me so completely, I can barely breathe.

“Are you okay?” he asks, freezing.

“Move,” I beg, wrenching my lips away from Abel’s. He starts moving inside of me with slow, measured thrusts. I cup his cheek with the hand not pleasuring Abel. “Rion…”

“God, you’re beautiful. Isn’t she beautiful, Abe?”

“Fuck, yes,” Abel pants as my hand moves faster and faster. He claims my lips once more, as if they have always been his, as if they belong to him. As if I belong to him.

Rion’s strokes become harder and faster as his fingers find my clit. I am halfway delirious with pleasure and lust.

Abel pulls his mouth away from mine to flutter kisses along my neck and shoulders. His breathing is just as uneven as mine.

My body pulsates with desire, my inner walls clenching around Rion’s hardened length. Rough grunts leave him, and my own moans mingle with his growls.

I sink my nails into the skin of his broad shoulders as my pleasure rises and rises, reaching an inescapable clifftop. Any second now, I’m going to fall straight over the edge.

“God, you’re perfect,” Rion whispers as my walls clamp down on his cock. His teeth sink into my neck hard enough to draw blood as I finally stumble headfirst over the edge. He follows me as my core tightens and clenches around him, milking him for all he’s worth. Abel is quick to follow, exploding in my hand with a roar. “Mate,” Rion asserts in a dark, possessive voice against my neck. “My mate.” I’m too lost in my own pleasure to really hear and understand his words.

“Ours,” Abel counters, sucking on my skin where Rion bit me.

“Yours,” I agree as we collapse to the ground. “Always yours.”