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For a long moment, all I can do is try to catch my breath and listen to my mates do the same. There’s plenty more work to be done today, but just for right now, I want to enjoy this moment.
I still can’t believe this life is mine. That these men are mine.
And that I get to keep them. Forever.
8
Sable
The four of us doze for a little while, not really sleeping but too lazy to get up.
As I lie tangled up with my men on the bed, gazing languidly around the room, I realize we left the curtains open. Luckily, Archer’s cabin sits at the end of a cul-de-sac with a bit more privacy than most, so I don’t think we gave the rest of the neighborhood a show.
But I love the way the sunlight reflects through the glass and casts diamonds of glittering light on the ceiling and walls. The large oak tree in Archer’s side yard breaks up the display with its thick branches, and the breeze outside makes the shadows of the branches dance on the walls.
This might be paradise.
There’s that whole cliche that “if I died now, I’d die happy,” which always seemed like such a morbid declaration to me. Now I think I kind of understand it. I’m sated, content, and the only thing missing right now is Ridge. Otherwise, this is my own personal version of heaven.
Not to mention, this is the first moment since the battle with the witches that I’ve felt almost normal. It feels like a glimpse into our possible future together, and all I see is golden sunlight and warmth.
I want it. I want this to be our everyday. And I’ll fight like hell to make that happen.
“Dude, I saw them before you kicked them under the bed,” Trystan’s saying to Archer. “They had little red hearts on them.”
“You saw nothing,” Archer replies, his eyes still closed and a grin flashing across his handsome face. His arm is under my cheek, and Trystan’s head is resting on his other shoulder comfortably, like two bros propped against the headboard. I can see Trystan’s profile across the muscles of Archer’s chest.
Dare’s curled against my back, his hand idly rubbing my bare hip. His voice rumbles through me as he says, “I saw it, too. Black. Red hearts. Some Valentine's Day shit or something.”
Archer’s grin widens. “You guys are hallucinating. Too much testosterone.”
I laugh. “Why does it matter if Archer has hearts on his boxer shorts?”
“You know, we could easily solve this.” Trystan sat up and leaned over the edge of the bed, reaching beneath to where Archer’s boxers had supposedly disappeared in the heat of the moment.
Archer laughs, jostling me off his arm as he lunges after Trystan to head him off before discovery. Dare chuckles behind me, his strong arms pulling me away from the now-grappling duo. With amusement, I catch a glimpse of decidedly black-and-heartsy boxer shorts between their hands.
And then my head explodes with pain.
I’m flying through pitch blackness without any control over my body. The barrier I’ve so carefully erected against Cleo is decimated, nothing but broken bits of magic that evaporate even as my spirit barrels through the connection between us. I can’t fight her grip. She’s ripped me right out of my own head and into the place between us without me ever knowing it was coming.
I come to a sudden halt and stumble over slick stones, almost losing my balance in the process. But I manage to straighten and face Cleo with as much dignity as I can muster, even as I feel like my metaphysical heart is going to stop beating out of sheer terror.
At least I’m not naked in my own head. I’m wearing jeans and a t-shirt, though I’m still barefoot. Small mercies, I guess.
Cleo wrinkles her nose. “Even in your own mind, you stink of wolf.”
I cross my arms, trying to hide my fear behind anger. “What the hell do you want, you bitch?”
The coven leader is just as terrifying as I remember her. She’s got startling good looks—midnight black hair that hangs with perfect symmetry around her face and over her shoulders, a face as beautiful and perfect as a cover girl, and angular features. I know this is all happening outside of the physical realm, like a spirit projection, but somehow I know this is the real Cleo. This is what she looks like in life.
I have to buy time. I knew this day was coming. I knew Cleo would be back, and this time, she’ll kill me if given half the chance. So I have to get my mental barriers back into place before she turns her claws on me, and I have to break free of our connection to escape.
Otherwise, I’m dead.
“What does any girl want?” Cleo purrs, answering my prior question with a syrupy sweet smile. “A good friend and a glass of wine. Maybe a side of shifter extinction as an appetizer.”
My heart aches, and it strikes me how real my body feels here, even though I know it’s not real at all. I’m digging inside my mind, searching for the barriers so I can get them back up and hoping Cleo can’t sense it.
