Page 29 of Inextricably Tied

They do have a massive stack of casefiles. “What if they don’t want to talk to us?”

“I wouldn’t blame them. But if we explain we don’t work for the OID, maybe it’ll be easier. Our goal is finding their children. If they don’t want our help, then…” Weight settles into Flint’s eyes as he shrugs. “That’s completely up to them.”

Harbinger’s mind spits out a thought that she immediately strangles.

You could always go to the C-

No. Fuck no. That’s a last resort.

The bed frame creaks as Flint adjusts his position, breathing past the pain in his ribs. “And to think, this was supposed to be a risk-free job.”

Harbinger worries the inside of her lip enough to draw blood. “We can stop.” Bandages cover Flint’s feet, swollen skin and ragged blisters draped in gauze. Because they took this job. Because she insisted. “We can take the money we have, and we can leave.”

She can’t look at Agony and the heat of his eyes on her skin. Watching. Waiting. Flint can’t hide the temptation as he considers it, tilting his face up to the ceiling before his eyes slip shut.

“No. We’ll keep going.” He returns his gaze to Harbinger, some unknown nostalgia tugging at him. “We’ve made it this far, right?” He tries for an easy smile, but everything about Flint has gravity. Weight. Weariness. “What’s the likelihood we get burned alive again?”

She doesn’t want to consider it. To jinx it. To put those words into the universe when she knows better than anyone what forces are at play between their physical world and elsewhere.

Like the feeling of Agony probing her thoughts. His attention is a spotlight so bright she can’t see past it, can’t reach past it to read him. Nothing like Flint, whose emotions are straightforward even when they’re dampened. Flint is clear, undisturbed water with the barest of ripples. But Agony’s a dark, murky lake, stretching further than she can see. No telling where it ends, how deep it is, if it’s connected to someplace else.

Or someone else.

The abyss stares back into her, as if their connection goes both ways. Like he can feel her, delve into her, run his fingers over her thoughts until she shudders. It’s eerie, being tied to someone and still so out of tune with what they’re thinking. Being on the receiving end of her abilities is disconcerting. And giving Agony a look into her feels somehow more dangerous than anything else she’s done.

With a twitch of her head, she jerks away from the straining connection and turns back to Flint reclined against the headboard. Flint, who’s safe. Flint, who she understands.

“Can we…”

There’s too much space between them. Too many bandages, too much skin, too much loss thrumming from her thoughts, from the house, from everywhere they still have to go.

She needs something more.

There’s no shame when she slots her thighs on either side of Flint’s hips. He stiffens, so aware of another presence in the room. Agony, the person Flint has to build a wall against. Or maybe Flint’s building a wall around Harbinger to keep her away, hidden, protected…trapped.

Since the day Flint touched her, she’s been spoiled. After so many years without another person’s touch, she felt disconnected from her body, adjusting to the lack of intimacy. It couldn’t be a part of her life. She accepted it, knew she could never have that comfort again. Someone’s arms wrapped around her, finding her mouth with the heat of theirs, holding on too tightly to let go.

Flint’s touch was an accident. Overwhelming and powerful, her head pounding and stomach rolling for days, but she can’t bring herself to regret it. Not when she can touch Flint so easily now, the slightest brush of his skin easing the frantic pace of her heart. Little moments swell with emotion when he brushes fingers over her hair, his thighs pillowing her when she sprawls across him.

Even now, he cradles her cheek in the palm of his hand, tracing claws across her scalp like he knows where every hair falls into place. “What do you need?”

It’s too much. Feelings well up inside her until they muffle every other connection, every worry, everything between them that they can’t solve. All she can focus on is desire. “I need to be close to you.”

Now Flint moves without thought, pulling her to his bandaged chest, barely flinching when she settles against him. She closes her eyes. Breathes. Presses her cheek against the thud of his heart. “Not just like this.”

Confusion twists through him when she pulls back enough to meet his eyes. Then she takes his hand, guiding the claws out of her hair, tracing down around the curve of her breasts and scraping her nipple through the fabric until it stiffens. Until Flint groans. Until she gasps. “I want you to touch me.”

Flint sucks in a breath the same time Agony does. Both their eyes jerk toward him.

“Don’t stop on my account.” But the humor in Agony’s voice is heavier, dipped in something darker, burning through the pit of Harbinger’s stomach.

Flint hesitates, brushing hair back from her face. “I need to keep an eye on him.”

So worried about keeping her safe when she’s asking, begging for the connection she needs. He’s focused on Agony. Keeping Agony at bay. Ensuring Agony doesn’t get close to her, when she would take that risk if it meant getting close to Flint.

“I don’t care if he sees.” Her fingers dust down the line of Flint’s jaw until his eyes fall shut. “Because you’re the one who gets to touch me.”

A battle rages behind Flint’s eyes…before he wraps his hand around hers to guide it away. Rejection sinks into her stomach, splashing like a rock until all the heat between her thighs fizzles out.