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“Look at me, Princess,” King says smoothly, my eyes rolling upward, flicking between his from beneath my shuttered lashes. “It's just a power outage 'cause of the storm. That's all,” his face is bright even beneath the thickening shadows. “'Kay?”
I lick my lips, his gaze dropping to follow the movement of my tongue. I nod, trying to find my words, praying they don't laugh at me. Don't ask me what's wrong with me. A bolt of fear races up my spine, dangerous spears of fresh panic light up through my skull.
Rex digs his chin into my shoulder a little harder, his lips pressing lightly to my throat, breath like a cool breeze ghosting across my overheated skin.
“You need a light on, Princess?” King asks me without mocking, and the usual shame accompanying my fear of such is absent.
King's fingers hook beneath my chin, forcing me to lift my gaze once more, Lynx's thumb strokes softly over my rapidly hammering pulse.
“Yes, please,” I reply quietly, swallowing again.
Before I can think about it further, King releases my chin, reaches into his pocket, drawing out his phone, it lights up as he touches his thumb to it. Illuminating his features with the cast of blue light from the screen. His bone structure shadows his features, the slight hollowness to his cheeks, his strong chin, razorcut jaw. Then the torchlight flares bright, the screen dying back to black and his free hand covers one of mine, still planted on his chest, nails cutting in. I gasp as I realise, but he just smothers his smile, plucking my fingers one by one from his flesh.
“Here,” he murmurs, placing the phone in my hand, torch aimed at the floor. “We need to check the breakers,” he says over my shoulder, looking at Rex who's nodding against me where he's resting in the crook of my neck. “You stay with Poppy,” he says next, flicking his gaze onto the man on my left. “We'll be right back,” he tells me, tapping his curled finger beneath the point of my chin.
His phone in my hand, I squeeze it tighter, watching as he and Rex make their way through the crowd. Screams and laughter grow in volume, and I drop my gaze back to my feet as Lynx takes King's place at my front. His black trainers, the cuffs of his jeans, the only thing I can see.
“I'm sorry,” I say quietly, wincing at the weakness in my voice. “I should have stayed, to thank you,” I wince again. “Because I am. Grateful, thankful, that is. For what you did.” Wondering if I sound as pathetic out loud as I do inside my head, I open my mouth to apologise for my shitty apology.
“It's fine,” Lynx says, interrupting my runaway train of thoughts. “I, urr,” he clears his throat, drawing my attention, he reaches up, squeezing the back of his neck, his gaze flicking up, my eyes connecting with his pretty red-brown ones. “I actually understand better than you might think.”
My gaze flickers over his face, his strong jaw dusted with light stubble. A little dimple in his chin, freckle beneath his right eye, another, lower down on the same cheekbone. He drops his hand from his nape, licks over his peach-coloured lips, making them glisten with the shadows from my torchlight, angled now so I can see with it, but making sure it's not blinding him nor I.
“I'm not,” I swallow again, feeling like it might be my tongue cutting me off rather than the dry, anxiousness of my words. “I'm not like that everyday,” I shamefully whisper, feeling like I need to defend myself, make sure he doesn't think badly of me like everyone else I know.
He shrugs, but he doesn't look away. Like he knows I'm not really telling the full truth, but isn't going to call me out on it.
My face heats further, as I realise his hand is still on the side of my throat, over my racing pulse. I didn't need to tell him I'm a liar, he can feel it all for himself. I drop my chin, gritting my teeth.
“Poppy, it's okay,” he tells me, and it's comforting, but he's lying too.
I shake my head, still staring down at my boots, but I don't say anything to call him out on it, in the same way he didn't call out mine. He steps in closer, his trainers on either side of my feet, his chest against mine, his hand squeezes lightly on my neck, the other snaking around my lower back.
“I haven't told them about the room situation,” Lynx reveals in a hush, his face so, so close to mine, it's heady, his scent, decadent red berries and cedar.
“Why?” I find myself asking.
Regardless of the fact that I am absolutely going to the administration building in the morning and asking for a room change. I'm still curious as to why.
His attention, fixed on me, dark eyes more red than brown, boring into my own. I feel hot, like I want to strip layers I'm not currently wearing, and I like feeling his skin on mine. Forearm scorching the bare skin of my lower back where it's firmly wrapped around me. All corded muscle and tight, warm, tanned skin.
Lynx steps into me, his hips finding mine like they were made to meld together.
“I don't want them to know about the nights,” he smiles, dropping his gaze.
“The nights?” I ask, my brow creasing.
“The nights I'll get you all to myself, Treasure,” he rasps deeply, tilting his chin, moving his mouth so it slants directly over mine, untouching, teasing, staring into my eyes. “You see,” he licks his lips, catching me with the tip of his tongue, making me sway into him. “We always share. Always have. Since we were little kids.” Glancing down, he eyes my mouth, my lip wet from the flick of his tongue before dragging his attention back tomy eyes. “We made a pact, actually, all of us. Promising to never let a girl come between us.”
I shake my head on autopilot, about to interject that I would never, but I don't get a chance.
“So, after tonight,” his lips curling into some semblance of a wicked smile, “when we share you.” He lifts a brow, watching for my reaction, “Press you between us,” he says lowly, running his thick fingers across my back. “Feast on you,” he breathes over my mouth, lips parted with short, fast breaths. “Fuckyou.” He presses a light kiss to the corner of my mouth and I want to moan at how good he feels, soft and warm. “Then I'll get to have you again,” it's an assumption, the whole thing is an assumption I'll fall at their feet and let them take me however they want, but I don't object as he continues talking. “Every night. All week. In our tiny little room that no one else knows about.” His eyes flicker over mine, and he smiles wider at what he sees, wicked in its intent. “Just you and I. My captured little treasure.”
His lips brush mine, swallowing my muted gasp, and I bow forward. Arching my spine, pressing my front to his, leaning into every hard, carved inch of his body.
“You want me to kiss you, Treasure?” he whispers over my mouth, “To thank me?”
My entire body is vibrating with need for it, for him. The darkness surrounding us long forgotten, even as I squeeze King's phone, the torch still bright on our feet, in my hand. Lynx leans in, his teeth sinking into my thick bottom lip in quick, carnal violence. I moan into his mouth, against his teeth as the tip of his tongue brushes just the very tip of mine, swallowing the thick sound from my throat.
