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Tamson loved me.
And I loved him.
It wasn’t the same type of love I felt for Calax and Ryder, but I was beginning to believe love was fluid. There was no set definition for it. Love was purposefully vague, designed to conform to each person’s own interpretation.
I loved Calax and Ryder and Tamson.
And Fallon, Asher, Ronan, and Declan.
I loved them all so much I thought my heart could explode. Break. These men had the potential to break my heart just because I loved them.
“You’re okay,” I whispered. I tried to sit up, but Tam raced towards my bedside and put a restraining hand on my shoulder.
“Rest.” His eyes roamed over my body, no doubt analyzing every injury. They stopped once they reached the protruding, jagged mark on my stomach. A forlorn expression darkened his features, there and gone too quickly for me to comment on. That was replaced by a certain reverence, a certain tenderness, that made tears well in my eyes.
I grabbed his hand in my weak one, stunned to feel it shake and tremble beneath my grip. His whole body quivered as if he had been shot through with electric currents. One look into his eyes and I could see decades of grief and pain from the few days - weeks? - I had been unconscious.
With a sudden burst of courage, I reached a hand out and gently pulled him down to my awaiting lips. I didn’t care that I had been unconscious for days and that I haven’t brushed my teeth during that time. I didn’t care that I probably was a disgusting mess. No, all I cared about was the man above me. The man who had somehow stolen and kept a piece of my heart.
It was a slow kiss, almost as if he was mapping out my lips. He met me stroke for stroke but never tried to deepen it. It was the kiss I would expect from ancient lovers. A kiss that had no reason to be rushed. A kiss that promised thousands of others.
I didn’t hear the door open and close until a shadow loomed over us ominously.
“You're awake,” Calax said softly. I broke free from Tamson, face burning, only to see nothing but relief in the giant’s face. Ryder stood behind him, a similar expression on his own.
No jealousy.
No pain.
No betrayal.
Only relief and an immense happiness that I was alive. Acceptance. Love. I knew I shouldn’t have expected anything else, but the confirmation was very nearly my undoing.
Calax reached me first, eyes tracing my features as if he meant to memorize them. Tears brimmed in his eyes, but his smile was radiant.
“Don’t you ever fucking do that again. I will bring you back to life just to kill you myself.” He moved to kiss my lips, but I turned my face away. When his eyes flashed with hurt, I hurried to explain.
“My breath is probably rancid. I heard that the government was thinking about using it as a weapon of mass destruction against the Ragers.”
Rolling his eyes, Calax gently turned my face back towards his and brushed his lips against my own. If he died, he only had himself to blame. What romance novels and movies failed to mention was morning/unconscious breath. It was a real, horrid thing. Trust me.
“Kitten,” Ryder said, coming to stand on the other side of the bed. Tam graciously stepped aside and moved to stand near my feet. “Don’t scare me like that. I’m an old fucking man.”
He, too, pressed his lips to mine, not seeming to mind or care that I had just kissed two of his best friends. Or that, you know, I was a disgusting, greasy mess of blood and sweat.
There was only love in his gaze.
Ronan stepped up next, expression unsure and almost shy. Timid. It wasn’t an emotion I was used to seeing on my eccentric leprechaun.
“I’m glad you’re okay, Princess,” he whispered roughly. He lowered his lips to my cheek. The chaste gesture made my stomach flutter and heart race.
God, I loved him. I loved them all.
Ronan froze, eyes widening in his handsome face. Ryder began to chuckle, a relieved, albeit terse sound. Raspy, almost, as if he hadn’t laughed in awhile. I wasn’t used to a somber Ryder, and I vowed to rectify that.
Before I could refute what I had accidentally said aloud, Ronan’s lips touched mine.
A graze of lips.
