Page 166 of Zenith Court

A kitchen fire had been lit somewhere below us. The smell of bread climbed the stairwell and slipped beneath the door, warm yeast and browned crust in a building long given over to water, lamp oil, and stone.

I could have risen. There were freed prisoners still searching for names, records to sort, rooms to open, and a witness circle no one yet knew how to seat. None of it had followed us through the door. For once, the morning belonged only to the four people in the bed.

I covered Caspian’s hand at my ankle. Kieran’s breathing changed behind me. Jonah opened his eyes.

“I want this morning,” I said. “Slow. Nobody watching the door. Nobody hurrying because something worse is coming.”

Kieran lifted his head. Sleep had pressed a red line along his cheek. “Yes.”

Jonah turned onto his side to face me. “Tell me what you want.”

Caspian met my eyes from the foot of the bed. “Yes.”

I drew Caspian toward me by the hand resting at my ankle. He came the length of the mattress and kissed me, one palm braced beside my shoulder while the other stayed open against my ribs.

His mouth was careful until I held his jaw and kissed him harder. Then he stopped being careful. When he drew back, his breath was rougher than mine.

Caspian moved beside me as Jonah knelt between my knees. Jonah rested his hands on the mattress rather than on me and waited.

I opened my knees. “There.”

His hands settled beneath my thighs. Kieran laced his fingers through mine and raised our joined hands above my head, pausing when my injured shoulder pulled.

“Lower,” I said.

He brought our hands down to the pillow and kissed the place where my neck met my shoulder. “Better?”

“Yes.”

Jonah bent his mouth to me.

The first stroke of his tongue drew my hips from the mattress. His forearm held firm beneath my thigh, the burnt-copper lines bright against his skin. Kieran’s mouth moved slowly along my throat while Caspian traced the scar at my ankle and then the inside of my calf, each pass climbing higher.

“Easy,” Kieran murmured against my temple.

Jonah kept the pressure steady. The pleasure built slowly enough that I felt every change: Caspian’s thumb reaching the tender hollow behind my knee, Kieran’s fingers tightening around mine, Jonah’s mouth softening just before he pressed harder. When I came, it ran through me in one long pull. My back lifted. Kieran kissed me through it, and Caspian’s hand closed around my calf.

Jonah stayed where he was until my shaking eased. Then he kissed the inside of my thigh and looked up.

“Still here,” I said.

He smiled.

I lay still until my breathing eased. Caspian’s hand remained around my calf, Kieran’s fingers stayed linked with mine, and Jonah rested his cheek against my thigh.

I reached behind me and caught his wrist. “Behind me. I want you there.”

Caspian went still for one beat. Then he settled against the headboard, and I turned and climbed into his lap with my back to his chest. His bandaged palms found my hips and waited while I settled myself against him.

He entered me slowly from beneath. The stretch stopped me halfway. He waited with his breath warm against the back of my neck until I pressed down for more. His hands tightened and then loosened again.

Kieran came onto his knees in front of me and bent his mouth to my breast. Jonah lay beside us. I caught his wrist and brought his hand between my thighs. His thumb found the rhythm that made Caspian’s hips break their careful pace.

Caspian’s rhythm broke first. His forehead dropped between my shoulder blades, breath breaking against my skin as he held me through the last uneven thrusts. The sound he made when he came was low enough that I felt it more than heard it.

My own release followed under Jonah’s hand and Kieran’s mouth. It struck harder than the first, folding me back against Caspian while the three lines brightened beneath my skin and then eased with me.

“Good,” Caspian said into my shoulder.