Page 94 of Blood and Trouble

I remembered wanting to do it, and wanting Lycan to be there, and wanting Lycan to see for reasons I couldn’t fully understand.

He dragged his knuckles down one of my cheeks. “Shh. Poe told me.”

“What did you do to him?”

Before Lycan could answer, Poe walked into the room and froze, his gaze darting between the two of us. I focused on the fresh bite mark on his neck, still swollen and angry, and a hot streak of jealousy roared through me. I looked at Lycan, his crimson lips, the flush in his cheeks.

Oh.

It all fell together like tumblers in a safe. Lycan had seen my bite mark, gotten pissed, and bit Poe as retaliation. Suddenly, I didn’t know whether I was upset that Lycan had marked Poe or that he hadn’t marked me.

A sharp pang rattled under my ribs, and the thought that I might lose them both made me catch my breath. Lycan had chosen Poe. Wasn’t that what I wanted? Wasn’t that the whole point? Hadn’t I been trying to get them back together, knowing I would fade into the background, merely a footnote in their reconciliation arc?

Poe stiffened and stepped back, preparing himself to be thrown out of the room.

“No,” I said, holding up my free palm. “Come here. Please.”

I couldn’t deal with his absence, not again, and I wouldn’t have him thinking I didn’t want him. Maybe I’d marked him in the heat of the moment, but the choice had been made long before I understood what it meant.

Poe crossed the room and sat on the other side of the bed to wrap his fingers around mine.

“We need to talk about this,” I said.

“Trouble,” Lycan cut in. “You need to rest.”

“I’m fine,” I said. Yes, my ribs were killing me, and yes, the faint trace of silver still circulating in my blood made my muscles hurt, but the healer had done a good job, and the bond to Poe resonated in those aching places. This was important. We needed to clear the air, to find out where each of us stood. I let go of Poe’s hand and touched the fresh bite mark on his neck.

He winced and turned his head into my hand before closing his eyes and sighing.

“What does this mean?” I asked, shifting my attention to Lycan. “Is Poe your mate?”

The answers came at the same time—a clipped “No” from Poe and a stern “Yes” from Lycan. Poe pursed his lips and directed a hard look at my husband, who inhaled through his nose and raised an eyebrow in the distinctly disapproving way that meant he was about two seconds from yanking Poe across his lap and spanking his ass with his belt.

“I’ve never heard of two shifters biting the same person,” Poe said. “My wolf could reject one.”

“He won’t,” Lycan said, his eyes starting to glow.

“And you fucking know everything, do you?” Poe spat. “The center of the universe. Takes what he wants and fuck everyone else. You didn’t even want to be mated.”

“Enough,” I cut in. “There’s something between us. The three of us. I feel it. I know you both do, too.”

Poe squared his jaw and shifted his attention to the bed. Lycan smirked and moved to sit beside me against the headboard, his shoulder brushing mine, his bonding scent so heavy it almost intoxicated me. I leaned my head against him and nuzzled into his arm.

“I don’t know of any shifter with two bite marks, no,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean it can’t happen.”

Poe looked between us. “Fuck, I should have just stayed in Montana. None of this would have happened.”

“Well, tough,” I said. “You’re here, and I’m thankful for it. Now, let’s figure this out.”

Poe shifted his weight so he was on my other side, the heat from his body radiating into my side. My wolf hummed in the back of my mind, now surrounded by her two favorite people. She felt safe. Protected. Adored. Yes, it was a mess, and yes, the emotional stakes were high, but how could this not be perfect? Poe’s pheromones mixed with Lycan’s in a delicate blend of woods and leather and male, complementing each other so perfectly, I almost moaned.

“How do you feel, Poe?” I asked.

He swallowed and looked up at the ceiling, opening his mouth while he searched for the right words. “Okay, I guess.”

“You have to give me more than that,” I said. Even though I sensed his contentment and frustration through our bond, I wanted him to say the words out loud. I wanted him to admit it to himself, to all of us.

“It’s…itchy,” he said. “In my soul. Like something’s half complete. Like I need to finish the job.”