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“No.” Jesse pinched the bridge of his nose. “Definitely not.”
“Ye should, because you’re gonna need a whole fecking bag of balls.”
Seriously with the balls talk? I was straddled on Jesse’s lap, surrounded by a rippling landscape of bare-chested muscles. Show a girl some mercy. “Why does Jesse need a bag of balls?”
Roark cocked his head. “To work himself up to a man-sized apology for being such a squirrel-faced cunt.”
“Squirrel-faced?” That was a new one. I searched the brutal angles of Jesse’s very un-squirrel-like features.
“Aye.” Roark rolled a shoulder. “His nuts are currently lodged in the vicinity of his cheeks.”
I couldn’t stifle my grin as I glanced between Jesse’s scowl and Roark’s wide smile. “Jesse doesn’t do apologies.”
It was a Lakota thing. If a mistake was made, they simply said Wanunhecun. Loosely translated: Oops.
But Jesse didn’t utter that word. Instead, he studied me with a strikingly raw expression, his lips parted, and his copper eyes burning bright, communicating so much in that single look. Then he punctuated it with his hands in my hair, his mouth locked onto mine, and his tongue pushing past my lips.
I grabbed his shoulders and clenched my thighs around his waist, knocked off balance and instantly aroused. He apologized with the roll of his tongue and the slide of his lips, his kiss so thorough and intense I felt it in every inch of my body, breaking me apart and making me whole again.
His skin slipped hot and smooth beneath my fingers, his body hard as stone between my legs. I was fully aware Roark was right there, watching, but the urge to rock against Jesse’s pelvis, to forgive him completely and passionately, outweighed my inhibition. Besides, Roark said he liked to watch, and knowing that only turned me on more.
Roark climbed to his feet. “When you’re done apologizing to her tonsils, help me catch some fish, will ye? I’m about to gnaw me own fecking arm off here.”
Jesse smiled against my mouth, breaking the kiss. “That guy…” He shook his head.
Yeah. That guy. Roark towered over us, regarding our embrace with something like contentment glimmering in his eyes. I wasn’t sure I’d ever figure out his role in my relationships, but one thing was certain. He wanted us to be happy. The three of us, if there were such a thing. Or the four of us, if I were willing to stab myself with the slowly deteriorating, rusted prong of hope.
I unfolded my limbs and stood, making my way back to Shea. Halfway there, a sudden charge of energy slammed into my stomach. I buckled over, breathing through it, and angled my head to make sure Shea and Darwin were still in the stream.
“Don’t leave the water,” I shouted, my mind coiling around the invisible threads, counting them. “Fifteen aphids. East side.”
Without hesitation, Shea raised the bow, seated an arrow, and moved into anchor position.
I watched her carefully for a moment, studying her expression for discomfort. “Do you feel them? The aphids?”
She shook her head, her attention on the treed shoreline. It was unfortunate she hadn’t picked up the internal aphid sensory from me. It would’ve been an extraordinary defense mechanism to pass along to cured women.
Jesse handed me my bow and pecked a kiss on my temple. “You can do this, darlin’.”
He waded upstream to stand beside Shea. Darwin was already on point, his ear pinned back against his head, his back and shoulders barely breaching the rolling water.
Our packs lined the shore on the west side, my carbine and handgun there, just a useless pile of metal without ammo. If we needed to run, at least we could grab our food.
Roark arched a brow at me, and I raised mine in challenge. Oh sure, I could do this without bullets. Ha! Worst case, I could hug the closest guy and telepathically command the aphids into the stream and let the water kill them.
A few minutes later, the four of us stood in a line, three anchored arrows and one raised sword.
The breeze brushed past my nose, carrying with it the scent of rot. Beside me, Darwin raised his hackles, his body silent and still in the water. Not even a growl. He’d learned over the years not to announce his location.
Now if only he would stay put when the aphids arrived.
I delivered my command for him to stay with a stern whisper. “Bleib.”
Then we waited. It felt like an eternity as we watched for movement in the trees, listening for the rustle of foliage and the hissing snarls of wet mouths. I could sense their approach like claws scraping the lining of my stomach, but when they finally emerged, it wasn’t with a monstrous explosion from the forest.
Fifteen aphids slipped silently and lightning fast along the shoreline. A terrifying sight if we had been standing anywhere else but in the water.
