Page 136 of Blood and Trouble

My instructions.

“Oh, pet,” I said, walking beside her. “You’ve done so well.”

“I don’t know if he’ll like it,” she said in my mind. “I’m not good at that sort of thing.”

“He’ll love it,” I replied.

Poe narrowed his eyes. “What is it?”

“Keep unwrapping,” I told him.

He took his time undoing the eyelets in the center of her corset, exposing her breasts first, then her stomach. She pulled in a breath, held it. Finally, he pushed the lace off her skin and stepped back. I moved in next to him so that I could read it, too. The poem sprawled against her skin, filthy and incandescent.

I’m no good at this, but I am a good girl.

So take me together. Eat me whole.

Fill me. Own me. Ruin me raw.

My cunt. My heart. My breath. My soul.

It went on, cascading down her stomach and onto her legs, but I looked at Poe, whose eyes tracked over every word, every line, opening his mouth in awe. No, Ava wasn’t a poet, but it wasn’t meant to be worthy of Rumi. It was her heart on her skin, her devotion to him, to me, to us. The handwriting was messy. She clearly must have written while facing the mirror, but that didn’t matter.

Her cheeks flushed as he studied her work, her fingers balling into fists. Boiling mortification rolled through the bond, followed closely by the most precious bashfulness. This was a vulnerable thing for her to show us, and Poe hadn’t said anything since he’d stripped her down.

“You hate it,” she said, raising her arms to cross them over her chest.

I interrupted her with a quick, “Uh, uh, uh. Don’t you dare. Let him finish.”

“Baby, this is…” Poe cleared his throat and stepped closer, cupping her jaw so he could press his forehead to hers. “This is beautiful. Thank you.”

“I’m not as good as you,” she said. “I tried.”

“You’re amazing,” he said and kissed her. “I love it. I love you.”

Warmth beamed from my chest and shimmied into my fingertips and toes. Watching them together, knowing she’d done this for him because I asked her to, brought me an innate sense of peace. I wanted them to be happy. I wanted us to be happy. And possessive, sentimental shit that I was, I’d do anything to get it.

“You told her to do this?” Poe asked, glancing at me with big eyes the color of stained wood.

“I know you think she and I have something singular because we’re married,” I said. “I wanted you to have something on your mating night just for you.”

“I belong to both of you,” Ava said. “You both belong to me.”

Poe grabbed the back of my neck and crashed my lips to his, biting and claiming, sending devotion down the bond. It landed in my gut and nearly buckled me with its sincerity.

“Now,” I said, pulling back. “I believe our mate gave you instructions.” I nodded toward the naked woman in front of the bed. “Better get to it.”

I looked around at the brothers in the meeting room, all in various states of frustration and anger, as I recounted what happened after Evelyn took me to her House of Horrors. Some growled and raised their hackles. Some sat stoic, letting their frustration fester under the surface.

The officers were at the rectangular table: Serpent to my left, Moose to my right. Ruby, the second pack enforcer, sat across from me, on Orion’s other side. Next to her was Ren, followed by our treasurer, Talon. Kodiak sat at the head, the epicenter of our cosmos.

“She had the witch pry into my mind,” I explained, rubbing my tongue over my canine. “She searched the pack bonds. I tried to keep her out, but I was too fucked up. She found Poe before I could stop her.”

“Bridge?” Kodiak turned to the witch.

She stood at the edge of the Bastards, her warrior on her left, a pinched confusion between her brows.

“I don’t know,” she said. “If she had a witch searching the pack bonds to make sure the sacrifice would still work, it leads me to believe the mating bond must have been important. We know the witch at the royal reception mentioned a half-formed bond, but I didn’t put the two together.”