7. Max

7

MAX

M y head hurt. I could feel and hear the blood rushing through my veins. It didn't even feel like I was living inside of my body. My skin was tight, itchy, like I didn't quite fit into it the way I usually did.

I knew why, knew that my secret was eating me alive. I needed to tell them the truth, but I had no idea where to start.

‘Hey guys, just so you know, I'm going to die,' just seemed like a ridiculous thing to blurt out in the middle of the cabin's living room.

But now that I knew my brain was randomly broadcasting announcements to them, the pressure was worse. The last thing I wanted was for them to find out that way.

"Fuck," I muttered, pacing back and forth in the small bedroom Declan had been occupying.

I spent most of my nights with Atlas, not really talking much—or doing anything more physical than that—just lying together, soaking up the silence and the warmth of each other. He never directly said so, but I knew that my presence helped soften some of the fear and sadness still tormenting him .

I knew from my own experience that sometimes, when you were sinking, the quiet presence of someone close by helped open your chest, your throat, enough to pull in a desperately needed gulp of air. I'd be that for him for as long as it took.

He didn't say much, but I didn't push for much more than that either.

Being near him had been helpful for me too though, after all of the time we'd spent apart, the time we'd spent denying the connection between us. We both had fresh wounds that needed to heal.

But between nights with Atlas and my attempts at healing in the medical building, I didn't have much alone time. I didn't even have my own room, now that I thought about it. After Atlas returned, Rowan moved out of our cabin and in with Arnell and the rest of Ten. He spent most of his time running training camps and exercises. Even with him gone, the cabin was still cramped and short a room.

Which meant that when I wanted to escape for a few minutes, there was no space to decompress and get my shit together. No place that really felt like mine, anyway.

Maybe that was why I kept finding myself out by the lake in the middle of the night.

"Max?" Declan's voice was soft, quiet as she pulled the door closed behind her, the gentle snap enough to make me jump.

The deep black of her hair and shirt made the gentle concern in her glistening green eyes impossible to avoid. It was a look I was growing more and more familiar with.

Dec liked to project a chilly demeanor to the world, but she was the core of the group—the most in tune with each of our needs, the first one to notice when one of us wasn't quite right.

At least she was that way with me. I swore she could read me like a goddamned book she'd memorized years ago and recited daily .

I took a deep breath, tried to pull my fear and anxiety back inside of myself, swallowed the lingering thoughts about my conversation with Evelyn, pulled the cyclical repetitions of Lucifer's ritual back before they burned her.

Her eyes narrowed as she moved towards me, hesitant and slow like she was afraid of scaring off a timid animal.

"Are you okay?" She exhaled sharpy, shaking her head. "I mean, okay probably isn't the word I'm looking for. Of course you're not okay. Shit's been abso-fucking-lutely wild lately. I'd be almost more concerned if you were okay. But—" she paused, searching for the right word, "You've just seemed a bit more off than usual the last few days. Distant, maybe? I know that what happened at Headquarters was a lot. I just want you to know that I'm here, okay? I love you. If you want to talk about any of it?—"

I opened my mouth to respond, but I had no words to give her.

Tell her. Just fucking tell her goddamn it.

It was so fucking easy.

Dec, you're right. I've been distant because I love you too—I love all of you—and I'm terrified of letting myself get even a little bit closer because I'm going to die and the damage and pain my death will cause will only increase the closer I let you all in .

I wanted to let the words fall from my lips, but I couldn't.

Worse, even, I wasn't sure I could do it—that I could willingly leave them when the time came, knowing how much it would hurt them. Now that I intimately knew that kind of loss—felt the absence of Cy like a near-constant stab wound to the chest—being the cause of that kind of pain was my biggest fear. Even bigger than feeling it again myself.

What if I couldn't do it? What if I damned the world because I wasn't strong enough? What if, after everything, I'd let love become my greatest weakness instead of my greatest strength ?

But I closed my mouth tight, swallowed the fear, my eyes welling with the unsaid words. My thoughts were clamped down. I used every ounce of focus I had—pulling on the dream-walking training I'd done with Wade and Serae, to keep those rampant anxieties from spilling into Declan's mind.

With the mate bonds taking on a life of their own, it was more difficult to hide from my feelings for her. Now that we'd acknowledged that connection, dove into the closeness—both physically and emotionally—I didn't want to go back to where things were before that.

I didn't want to pretend that her bright green eyes weren't the first thing mine fought to find every time I entered a room she might be in, that her every touch didn't make me drip with need, that the sound of her voice didn't make air lodge in my chest.

I wanted more of her, of them all, not less.

And I knew, truly knew, that the only way to achieve that was through honesty.

But not yet. I just wanted a little more time. Just a little more happiness before I changed everything again.

Didn't we deserve that? A moment of peace? Or some semblance of it at least? Even if it couldn't last?

She tilted her head, studying me, her eyes darting between mine as she took a few steps towards me. When her hand lifted and cupped the side of my face, a sob nearly broke free from my chest.

Her thumb traced my cheek bone, the pressure soothing and soft as she leaned her head in towards mine. The feather-light touch sparked through my entire body, traveling down my spine like a humming livewire.

"It's just been a tense few days," I finally managed, my eyes closed tight so that I didn't have to stare into hers while I circled the full truth I wasn't ready to tell. Instead, I offered her part of it. "And with the mate bonds solidifying—" I opened my eyes, until I found hers, my stomach clenching at the closeness of her, the smell, the realization that I could take a step closer and feel the intoxicating curves and lines of her body as they fit against mine.

Instead, I took a step back.

"Not that the bonds are a bad thing. That's not what I mean." I shook my head, tried to keep my thoughts from spilling out in a bumbling mess—something I would probably never master. "The power between us is amazing, sometimes it's all I can do not to focus on it, not to sink into you all and just sort of drown in the dizziness of it for a few days—weeks. But then I feel guilty—giving into that with so much shit going on, with the literal fate of the world at stake—it just feels wrong. And now, with you all in my head, with Eli channeling the powers—it's just a lot to process. I'm afraid of hurting someone, of hurting one of you. I just don't know how to do this—" I took another step back until the back of my legs hit the bed. I let the momentum pull me onto it, my body sagging into the mattress, the brief relief of weightlessness. I laid back, focused on the ceiling—a cobweb that hung draped over the light fixture. "I don't know how to be everything you want. Everything you all need. I don't want to fuck things up."

Dec's eyes narrowed as she studied me, processing. She tilted her head and took a step closer, until suddenly I felt naked in front of her, impossibly vulnerable under her perusal above me. "Why do we all do this?"

"Do what?"

She snorted. "Allow ourselves to be so consumed by the possibility of failure that we stop taking chances, stop letting ourselves sink into the few things that make us feel good, that make us happy?" Her eyes met mine as she hovered over me, the soft light framing her head like a halo. "Aren't you sick of it?" she shook her head, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I sure as hell am. "

I was. But saying that you wanted to not feel fear wasn't the same as not feeling it.

"The world is quite possibly ending," she pressed on, "and I don't know what's going to happen. To any of us. You're under a literal world's worth of pressure, Max. But not from us. And I won't speak for the guys, but I will say that all I want is you—however much you want to give. And I don't just mean some caricature version of you that's all sunshine and rainbows. I want your darkness as much as I want your light, your bad days as much as your good. I just want you as you are. You can't mess that up." She tilted her chin up, "You understand?"

I nodded, unable to form any sort of intelligible response.

"Sometimes it can feel wrong to be happy in light of everything. It's hard to experience joy, desire, laughter, when there's so much wrong in the world. But that's when it's most important." She ran a hand through her long hair, and my eyes hungrily traced the way a few strands fell around the curve of her neck, her chest. I wanted to do the same with my fingers, with my tongue.

Her eyes sparked, like she felt that stray thought, even if she didn't hear it out right. "Sometimes happiness can be its own form of resistance." She grinned, brow arching. "At the very least, it gives us the stamina for the long run. A reason to keep going. This task we face is a marathon, not a sprint, Max. Don't be afraid to lighten your load every once in a while—the rest of us will take turns carrying it."

Her words ricocheted in my chest, carving their way in, making a home—completely impervious to my resistance.

"I have an idea." A small grin curved the corner of her mouth. "Stay here, okay?"

I nodded, but otherwise didn't move. As I watched the dust particles float above me, I heard the door open, the brief juggling of clanks in the small kitchenette, heard someone— maybe Eli—mumble something to her, before she responded with a soft "night mate," closing the bedroom door behind her.

The light above me switched off, bathing the room in a dark gray haze, my vision blurring and adjusting to the sudden shift.

I heard Dec rustling through a drawer in the bedside table and sat up.

"What are you—" she pressed a finger to my lips, stopping the question before I could ask it.

Her eyes found mine and I could see a flash of excitement there.

She didn't pull her finger from my mouth, and something about the silent darkness, her closeness, the image of her leaning over me, sent a wave of desire flaring through my body.

My tongue instinctively parted to lick my lips, and I tasted her finger.

She exhaled, her breath minty and cool as it swept over me. As if emerging from a trance, she cleared her throat and pulled her finger away.

"No questions," she said, her voice filled with authority even in the soft whisper. The scratchy sound of a match striking turned into a sizzle as the soft glow of fire flared at her fingertips. "We're going to get you out of that head of yours for a few minutes, push you back into your body."

She set a small candle on the table, lighting it until the air around us was bathed in a soft glow. With a flick of her hand, the match went out, the soft smokey char curling in my nose. "Borrowed this from Mer. From a secret resource cabinet she showed me a few days ago—told me she keeps these stocked during the cold winter months." A seductive grin curled her lips. "It's body safe."

"Wha—"

She lifted a black bandana between us, folded it over a few times, then pressed it to my eyes. My heart started to race as she tied it carefully at the back of my head, gentle but firm .

The coconut scent of the candle was so much stronger as my vision blurred to black.

I shivered as her hands swept my hair back behind my shoulders.

I bit my lip, but her thumb gently released it, the touch pulling a breathy shudder from me.

"Your only job right now is to relax," she said, the soft sultry sound of her voice enough to make me clench my legs together. "We're going to work on embracing some of that happiness I was talking about. See if we can't pull you out of that doom spiral, okay? All of the bullshit, all of the challenges we face—those are tomorrow's problems. Tonight it's just us, just this. Do you trust me?"

I licked my lips and nodded, unable to find my voice.

"That's my girl," she whispered against my lips before hers ghosted briefly over mine in a soft kiss that sent a wave of flutters low in my belly. "If you want to stop at any time, just tell me. But until then, I only want you to focus on your body, on every sensation—on nothing else but that, okay?" She paused, waiting for me to respond, so I nodded again. "Just try to relax and just— be —okay?"

I nodded again. My nipples were already hard, my senses hyper alert, aware of her closeness and wanting it closer.

My heart beat like a rabid hummingbird in my chest—whether from nerves, excitement, or desire I couldn't quite tell. Could she hear it in the heavy silence of the room? Even my breathing seemed desperately loud.

Slowly, her fingers found the hem of my shirt, and she lifted it up. I raised my arms above my head, allowing her to peel it off of me, the fabric grazing my skin in featherlight kisses. The soft strawberry scent of her favorite shampoo clouded my senses as she leaned over me. Gods, I didn't think I'd ever tire of the smell of her—the way the soft scent blended with her natural sweetness .

The memory of the way she tasted had me salivating. It was like she'd been crafted from my deepest desires—desires I didn't even know myself well enough to ask for—and then offered up to me.

When my shirt brushed against my sensitive lips, I gasped, as if she'd kissed me. My sports bra followed suit, my skin pebbling with every touch of the cool air.

As if aware of my sensitivity, she playfully licked the peak of my left nipple and then blew a soft breath, cooling it.

My back arched against the bed, my body loudly begging for more, but she denied the request.

And of course, that only made the ache deeper.

I sensed her smug grin, even if I couldn't see it. Right now, I desperately wanted to taste it.

She peeled my pants off next, the maneuvering a little more clunky than my top as I leaned back into the bed to allow her a better angle.

Gently, she shifted me so that I was lying on my stomach, my head resting to the side on the pillow.

It was such a vulnerable position, not being able to see anything as I was splayed out before her, like a willing—and, let's be honest, fucking eager —sacrifice.

My stomach muscles tightened as the bed sank softly to my right, waiting with anticipation for whatever touch she was willing to bestow.

But the next sensation didn't come from her touch.

Liquid heat pooled on my lower back.

I inhaled a sharp hiss of surprise as the strength of the heat dimmed. The hot wax carved a small stream down my spine, dripping in branches along my side.

Her hands kneaded the oil into my muscles, and I couldn't even be bothered to suppress the low moan.

I felt some of the knots and tension fight against her fingertips, her knuckles, sighing in relief as each one gratefully lost that battle. She poured more of the candle along my upper back—the first hit of the heat, both unexpected and exciting. Then, with careful strength, she rubbed it into my shoulders, my neck.

I relaxed beneath her touch, savoring every massage, every featherlight touch of her hair as it tickled my arms, my back, the smell of strawberries mixing delectably with the coconut candle.

It shouldn't have been surprising—that Dec somehow seemed to know, to understand my body better than I did. Like she could anticipate and identify points of pleasure, of tension that I hadn't noticed. My skin sparked with waves of tingles, my toes curling each time she relieved a new ache.

When she dripped wax along my ass, my thighs, I jerked up slightly in surprise as the oil slipped between my legs, joining another liquid heat already soaking me from her touch. Her fingers dug into the back of my right thigh, starting closer to the back of my knee and growing closer and closer to an entirely different sort of ache—one I knew she wouldn't relieve. Not yet, anyway. And somehow waiting for that relief just made me all the more desperate for it.

I fisted my fingers into the bed sheets as her hand slipped between my legs—so very close to where my body was begging her touch—just to keep from grinding into her.

Every inch of me was alive and sparking with a pleasure that I couldn't contain.

"Fucking hell," I moaned as her thumbs traced either of side of my spine—starting at my neck and then ending at the apex of my thighs.

Need pulsed through me and I wondered, briefly, if it was possible to come from a massage—without her even once touching me between my legs.

"Flip over," she whispered into my ear, punctuating the request with a soft nip of my earlobe that drew a pathetic-sounding mewl from my lips.

I did as she asked, lying on my back as I felt her eyes rove over me as if they were her fingers.

My nipples were hard peaks, and there was no denying that the wetness between my legs was more than hot oil. I could hear my breaths coming out in fast, heavy pants, with every moment of anticipation.

Not knowing what she was going to do next made every sound louder, every breath of air against my skin sharper.

The muscles in my abdomen tensed as she poured another small stream of oil along it. She rubbed it into my skin, her hands and fingers molding to the curves of my sides, my stomach—going lower, lower, lower with each stroke, but never quite reaching where my body was silently screaming for her to go.

The tops of my thighs felt hot and tight as she massaged into them, and I groaned in frustration when her thumb grazed over my pubic bone, denying again the release I was desperate for.

"Please," I muttered finally, the word a breathless prayer on my lips as my hand sought hers.

She pulled back, pressed my hand back to my side. She leaned over me, hair grazing my chest, as she whispered, a sultry, "Don't make me tie you up," as her teeth bit into my bottom lip, tugging lightly. I groaned as raging need shot straight to my core. "Because I will. Happily."

I grabbed the bedding, my grip so tight that I wouldn't be surprised if it tore.

"Good fucking girl," she said, clearly pleased with my hard-fought restraint. Her oily hands caressed my clavicle, my breasts, pinching my nipples lightly in reward. I could hear the coy grin in her voice, husky and low, and I desperately wanted to press my lips to the smug curve of her lips that I knew was there, even if I couldn't see it. I wanted to taste her smile, to devour it. Mine. All of her. Mine. "And good girls get rewarded."

The mattress shifted as her weight left, and I suddenly felt even more bare, more vulnerable without the softness of her thigh against me.

There was a soft clink as she reached for something on the side of the bed, like the sound of rocks against ceramic.

And then a sharp hiss tore from me when a wet chill circled my right nipple—the sensation made more extreme in contrast to the hot oil.

Ice.

My tongue wet my bottom lip as I bit down, a poor attempt to stifle my moan as she carved an icy path from my right nipple to the left, the cool stream left behind by the cube pooling along my sternum.

But when the weight shifted on the bed and she leaned over me, blowing a cool breath on my already-stiff peaks, I gasped.

The gasp turned into a low groan that I couldn't contain no matter how badly I tried as her lips closed around my nipple, warming the icy breeze with the heat of her tongue.

"Fucking hell," I whimpered, my fingers digging into the side of my thighs now, the bedsheets not solid enough to keep me from clawing at her.

The pain of my nails digging into my thighs helped center me, but the sharp pain only amplified the pleasure as her tongue traced the icy path to my other nipple.

My breathy gasps sounded pathetic and needy to my ears, but I hardly cared. I was putty in her hands, eagerly and greedily chasing every touch, every kiss that she let me.

She nipped and licked at my neck, my jaw, my earlobe as her hand slid the cube of ice down my stomach—and then lower, lower, lower, until it edged just above, and then over my clit, before it slid between my legs and dissolved completely, devoured by my heat—until it was just the light pressure of her finger against me.

I bucked, chasing more friction, my chest heaving with needy breaths as I bit down hard on my lip.

"Relax," she whispered, pulling her hand away. My skin pebbled as her breath caressed it. "Just focus on the competing sensations," she circled a new ice cube over my nipple, leaving it pressed against me and then moving it away in intervals I couldn't predict, "the way your body reacts," she moved the cube, keeping it flush against me, drawing down my stomach again, "the way it tries to chase the feeling." My thighs clenched as she kissed my ear, my neck, "Let yourself sink into it."

She dipped the ice between my legs again, and I nearly cried out with the pleasure of it—the heat of her fingers mingling with mine, both competing against the ice.

Her body lined against mine as she circled over my clit and when she moaned, the heat of her breath caressed my neck, echoing my own desire.

"Fucking hell, I want you," I gasped, my head turning towards her but all of my willpower focused on not chasing her mouth with mine.

Her breaths were hot, frequent against my cheek and I knew that this was no easy game for her either. I could feel her own desire lapping against my skin, as strong and demanding as my own.

She shifted away from me again, and I resisted the small whimper as I heard her shuffling around.

When her weight sank down on the mattress again, I felt her smooth skin against mine as she straddled me.

Her clothes were gone.

Fucking finally.

More of that. More of her skin, more of her.

I wanted to be completely engulfed by her—her touch, her taste, her scent .

"You have me," she whispered. "You have no idea how much you have me." And then she grabbed my hand and lifted it, pressing my fingers between her legs. Her thong was soaked, drenched with her own desire. "I don't think I've had a dry set of knickers since the day that I met you, Max." Our fingers twined and, together, we pulled her thong off. She pressed a kiss to my lips as she leaned over me. "You have no idea how badly I want you. What every kiss, every touch, every look does to me."

Gods, now that I could feel that she was naked, could feel the desire dripping from her, it seemed suddenly cruel that I couldn't see her. That I couldn't see the lust shine from her mesmerizing eyes, couldn't trace every quivering muscle with my stare.

"More," I whispered, because my brain couldn't fully form thoughts anymore. I just wanted more. More of her. All of her. It would never be enough.

She grinned against my lips. "Open."

I did as she asked, and she shoved the fabric in my mouth, the cotton wet and flavored with the salt of her. I groaned, taking in her taste, letting it float over me as she pulled back.

My breath caught as more hot oil spilled over me, coating my chest, my nipples. My gasps were muffled by the cloth as the path of oil spilled lower and lower, until it glazed over my clit, the brief flash of heady pain quickly morphing into a sharp bolt of pleasure that made me dizzy.

Her fingers massaged over me, the pad of her thumb circling around my clit, teasing—until, slowly, slowly, she pressed it against me.

I felt every throb pulse through my entire body, like a banging drum in my ear as my tongue soaked in the taste of her.

She slid two fingers inside of me, teasing and slow until she found a spot that had me arching off the bed, head leaning back into the pillow, moaning for more.

"Fuck," I whimpered, the word lost around the shape of her thong as I tilted my hip, seeking more friction.

Declan's breathy chuckle held less control than she'd had up until this point, but she still had enough left to pull herself back, to pin my hips back down to the bed with her hands.

I felt her indecision in the pressure of her fingers as they dug into me, until, as if she didn't have the composure to continue holding herself back, she pulled the thong from my tongue and replaced it with her own.

This.

Yes.

So much this.

My tongue greedily slid against hers. The edible candle wax made her taste even sweeter than usual. Her thigh slipped between mine as she ground her hips into me, both of us a tangle of oil, limbs.

"Fucking hell you feel good," she whispered, like a prayer, her breathing as uneven as my own, my leg already slick with her desire.

Her lips found the side of my jaw, my neck, as she licked and teased me with her teeth.

My fingers dug into her hips, her back. When I slid my hand between us, my finger gliding through her slickness and slipping inside of her, I couldn't wait any longer. I wanted to look into her eyes when she came.

I shoved the blindfold off and over my head.

For a moment, I thought she was going to argue, but the fight died on her lips when she registered the pure hunger in mine. Her eyes were wild and blown wide with lust, holding mine as I slid down her body and dipped between her knees.

"I need to taste you." I hardly recognized the sultry tenor of my own voice—it was pure need, pure lust. "Properly. "

She opened her mouth, ready to argue, trying to maintain her careful control of the scenario, but the second my lips closed around her, all potential fight dissolved on her tongue as mine slid over her, lapping at her soaked core, my tongue circling, then running over her clit.

"Oh," was the only sound she managed to make as I licked and sucked her like she was the only good taste left in the world—because right now, she was.

All I could see was her, all I could feel, all I could think. Fucking hell.

Her back arched as I slid two fingers into her—and then, I froze.

I could feel her pleasure rolling through me, as if it were my own. Every tingling sensation reverberating through me. She was on the edge—and I knew that with a vivid certainty because I was too.

Our orgasms were building and amplifying each other's.

More so than I'd ever experienced with my succubus powers before. Every lick, every touch, every sensation echoed and pulsed through us both.

Taking advantage of my surprise, she gripped me by the hair at the nape of my neck and pulled me roughly to her. Her lips found mine as our hands warred for real estate over each other's bodies. I traced her neck, her side, her chest, her ass, her thighs. Neither of us could get enough.

"Why does this feel so good?" She moaned into my mouth as her fingers slid over my clit, "gods I can feel your every pulse of pleasure."

I moaned, unable to form any words. Like me, I could tell she wanted all of me at once, every sensation elevated and demanding, our skin on fire as we melted together. It was like a fever dream, everything heightened. We were drugged with it.

I slid myself against her, grinding slow and teasing as we met. Our lips parted on a gasp and we swallowed each other's moans. But the teasing only lasted a moment—my vision blurred when she let out a whimper, both of us overcome by an urgency that had been steadily growing until it outpaced our patience, our tenuous game of control.

Her hips moved in time with mine, both of us slick and hot and filled with a need that was unlike any pleasure or lust I'd ever experienced before. Just from fucking rubbing ourselves on each other's thighs. As one, we went over the edge, our limbs and hair coiled together as the orgasm rippled through us, a livewire of feedback braiding us as one. She shuddered against me, in time with the blood pulsing through me, until we both collapsed, unmoving.

After a moment, when we'd both finally almost caught our breath, she dipped her hand gently between us, fingers circling slowly around the sensitive skin. She hardly even touched my clit before another orgasm followed the first, striking us both, leaving us both panting and dizzy.

Holy hell.

Holy hell is right. Only she didn't speak the words, they filtered through her thoughts into mine, loud and clear as day. The bond connection between us was blown wide, every thought, every feeling echoing and amplifying between us.

She arched a brow, a mischievous smirk on her face as her hand grazed along my side until she found my nipple. Her thumb teased the peak before she pinched.

Both of us clenched our thighs around each other as a bolt of need rolled through us.

Doesn't do much for longevity, and I don't know how many times I can come before passing out, but I am very willing to test those limits , she thought, before she ground herself against me, entangled and seeking more friction as another climax pulled from us both.

This one was different, even stronger than before, and it echoed between us, amplified by whatever final shields in the bond were temporarily abandoned.

My vision blurred, my lips finding hers as we rode the waves in whimpers and screams. And like a magnet, my palm pressed against her. I slid two fingers inside of her, stroking the spot I knew would make her melt—like her body was a map only I could read.

Because it made me melt too.

"Oh," she said, both of us groaning as we slipped into another orgasm. Only this time, warm liquid rushed from us both as my vision blurred from the intensity of it.

Too much, it was almost too much. But fucking hell, I never wanted to stop this feeling.

Fuck.

Yes.

Fucking hell.

Oh my god.

Thoughts and sensations that couldn't be made into words flooded my mind but I could no longer tell which belonged to whom.

My bones were jelly and we remained in a puddle of each other's limbs until the intensity of the feeling faded into a soft echo—still not entirely gone, but quiet enough that I had control of my limbs and was able to form words again.

"That was—" I huffed, searching for some way to describe it other than the most mind-blowing sex—hell, experience—I'd ever had. Maybe I wasn't actually able to form words yet.

"Yeah," she exhaled, her lips tilted into an intoxicated grin. "That…was."

I cuddled into her, mesmerized by the feel of her body against mine, the way that we seemed to fit together, effortlessly. My skin cooled from the liquid coating us—a mix of oil, sweat, and the product of our lust. It felt like a badge, a monument to all we'd just experienced .

"I've never done that before."

I knew that she meant the squirting even though there was a lot about the last few minutes I'd never done before.

I grinned into her neck. "Same."

My lips pressed into the spot where her neck met her shoulder and my tongue peeked out, already missing the taste of her.

"Mmm," she hummed, leaning into the feel. "Next time you squirt, I want my head between your thighs."

Fucking hell, just the visual of her beneath me, lapping me up, the simple promise of it, sent another pulse of need through me as I dug my fingers into her hips.

My mind was as jelly-like as my body, and I realized suddenly that she'd accomplished her goal. All I could focus on was this moment, on her, on the sensations flooding my system—every touch, every taste.

Hell, I was even greedily collecting every tiny whimper, moan, word, breath that she made like it was gospel.

And I was relaxed.

Happy.

Her own joy met mine in a crash and washed over us both.

She was right. Tomorrow. We'd deal with everything in the morning, but we needed moments like this, to feel connected—to remember what we were fighting for in the first place.

My thoughts started to feel more like mine again, and when I focused on the connection, I worked to close it—not completely shut it off, but shove a curtain over it. We couldn't lay in a cycle of orgasms forever. No matter how pleasant that sounded.

A heavy knock sounded against the door and I stifled my groan of frustration. I wanted to sit in this bubble of bliss for as long as I possibly could.

"Ignore it," Declan mumbled, her eyelids closing as she nuzzled into the pillow, her arm clinging around mine .

For a moment, I considered it.

But the knock came again, harder this time.

I took a deep breath before hauling myself up. "Hang on."

A gray towel hung on the back of the door, so I grabbed it and wiped myself off before handing it to her to do the same.

I pulled a shirt over my head and started fishing for my pants.

With the battle lost, Declan groaned and followed suit, heading to a pile of clean clothes for a pair of dry underwear—her soaked thong a lost cause she clearly had no intention of reviving.

I waited for a moment, my hand on the doorknob, making sure she was dressed and decent before I swung it open. "Wha?—"

I swallowed my question at the dazed look on Eli's face.

His arms were spread on either side of the door frame, like he was physically restraining himself from barging in.

Declan shifted behind me, gasping as her eyes locked onto him.

I followed her stare to Eli's dick.

There was a stark, very obvious wet spot on his light gray sweatpants.

Eli made no move to cover it up, and if he was at all embarrassed, there was no trace of the emotion etched into his face. His eyes were all heat as he watched my realization unfold.

"Fanghole took the shower before I could," he shook his head, then turned to Dec briefly with a bemused, teasing glance before he looked down at his crotch. "First orgasm took me by surprise, clearly. But yeah, I take it back. Our immediate priority should be us getting a better grasp on this whole connection thing. ASAP."

Oh.

Apparently mine and Dec's connection wasn't the only one that had been blown wide open .

He took a step towards me, eyes tracing me from head to toe and back again—a scan that I could feel like a caress. I tried to ignore the flutter low in my belly as I clenched my thighs together. Sandwiched between them both, a flare of desire started to reignite.

I wasn't sure if it was the succubus, the bonds, or some combination of both—but my libido was fucking insatiable tonight.

"That," he said, his eyes darkening as he took another step closer, hovering over me until my chest brushed against his, "or the rest of us need to clear the cabin when you get laid from now on." His focus held on my lips that I'd unconsciously just licked. He shook his head with a grunt before biting his own. "Unless we're all cool with dissolving into a group-wide fuckfest each time."

The sight of him there, that look in his eyes nearly had me undone all over again.

"Because fucking hell, it took every last inch of self-control I had not to come in here and join in." He nodded towards the other room without taking his eyes away from mine. "If you'd have been in anyone's room but Dec's, I would have. The guys seem okay with simultaneously sharing sexy fun time with you, but I know Dec maintains a strict no-dick policy in the vicinity of her sexcapades."

"Sexcapades? Sexy fun time?" she snorted, face contorted in mock-disgust, "you sound like an adult film star from the eighties." She tilted her head, lips twisting in surprise as she studied Eli, while I did everything I could to swallow my laughter, "and a slimy one, who isn't exactly inspiring at his craft." She sniffed, "But other than forever lodging that undesirable series of images in my head, thank you for respecting a very specific boundary of mine, I guess."

"Wade nearly ripped the front door off the hinges in his haste to create some distance. I think his powers are even more sensitive to this particular element of the—connection." He shrugged, focus still centered on me, his arms straining like he still wasn't in complete control. "And I heard a loud crack from Atlas's room. Pretty sure he punched a hole in his wall trying to keep himself from coming in here. So, not that we paid a deposit on this cabin in the first place, as far as I'm aware, but—" that playful smirk of his made an appearance and I clenched my fingers into a fist at my side to keep from tracing it with my thumb, "if we did, something tells me that by the end of our stay, we won't be getting it back."