"We can do that," Asher says, voice tight with restraint. "But only if you're absolutely sure—"
"I am. And I don't want you to ask again."
"Well then," he says, gaze locked on mine, "we'll give you exactly what you need."
"And not being gentle?" Kayden's voice is rough in my ear. "You're speaking my language, sunshine."
Asher watches me closely. "Both of us?"
I nod.
His jaw flexes. "Then we need ground rules before we start. No guessing. Clear communication. What's off-limits?"
"No biting," I say quickly.
Kayden groans. "Tease."
"I mean blood biting. No vampire stuff tonight."
"Got it," Asher says. "We can touch you however we want? The usual? Oral? Anal?"
I breathe, then nod. "Yes. Oral, yes. Anal… not off the table, just maybe not tonight."
Asher's voice lowers. "We don't have toys here, so nothing specific in that direction. That's for another time."
I nod again.
"And because this won't be gentle," he continues, "you need a word. Something to stop it if it gets too much."
A word forms on my lips without hesitation. "Marigold."
He nods once, serious. "Then that's our line."
"Now let us show you what it means to beours," Kayden whispers behind me.
Asher closes his eyes for a beat.
When they open again, the amber is molten—bright with purpose, layered with command. The Colonel. Not gentle, nor soft. In control.
"I think Sage needs to relax," he says, tone calm, almost clinical, except for the way his gaze burns into mine. "After that dream."
Kayden's answering grin is all wicked promise. "I can take care of that."
He moves closer, fingers sliding under the knot of the robe. With deliberate ease, he undoes it, letting the soft fabric fall open. My skin meets the cool air, and I feel his gaze crawling over me like a touch. It's hungry, appreciative, and possessive.
He slides the robe off my shoulders, letting it pool behind me. I'm left in my panties, breath catching.
"Beautiful," Kayden murmurs. He looks like he wants to devour me, but waits, his restraint evident.
Asher hasn't moved much, staying beside me. He slides his hand up my arm, knuckles brushing my skin in a way that's both grounding and electric.
Then his hand cups the side of my throat. Not tight, just there. A reminder.
His voice dips low. "Eyes on me."
A command.
I obey instantly, gaze locking with his. There's something about that look, like he could unravel me without laying a single finger. Like I could fall into that calm and be remade.
