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“I don’t think anywhere with us could be considered heaven,” Elias comments dryly. “We’re rather the opposite of angels.”
“Then, if this is Hell, I never want to leave.”
Elias kisses me, admirably holding back a laugh. “You’re sweet, but you should rest now.”
“Do you need anything? Water, something to eat?”
I might need some painkillers for tomorrow, but my brain still feels too sluggish to ask for that. I shake my head. Elias fetches me a glass of water anyway, for later, even if I don’t feel like drinking now.
“I apologize, dear,” Elias says again. “Perhaps we shouldn’t have played so hard.”
“I’m not that breakable,” I insist. “I can handle it. Just tired out now.”
“Clearly,” is Elias’ wry response.
I bury my face into the crook of his neck as he lays me down and joins me in bed. “I feel like you’re mocking me.”
“I would never.”
Caelan laughs, curling up behind me from the other side of the bed and pressing kisses against the back of my neck. “It’s just that we don’t see you that often. So, when we do, we can get… a little overzealous.”
I huff a laugh. “I noticed.” Not that I mind, really. “So, the solution here is obviously you need to see me and fuck me on a more regular basis, so it doesn’t get all pent up.”
“Hah. I like the way you think, doll.”
Caelan’s just joking around, teasing as always, but Elias seems to grow oddly serious about it. “Would you want to see us more often?”
“God,yes.”
“Would the appeal and the novelty not wear off?”
“Wha…” For the first time, I regret being too blissed out and exhausted to think because this seems important.Why would Elias even ask a thing like that?“I’m yours. Of course, I want to be with you.”
“We’d interfere with your life.”
“You make my lifebetter.”
Elias hesitates, seeming to weigh what he wants to say next. He cards his fingers through my hair, lightly massaging my scalp. “I think… you may make our lives better too.”
I don’t have any reply to that, but it makes me feel like glowing. My fingers drift to the collar around my throat, and I tilt my head up to kiss Elias. “I’m yours,” I murmur again.
Caelan coughs behind me.
“Yours, plural. I meant you too.”
“Damn right,” he says, making a pointed gesture of brushing his fingers over the small of my back, over the knife marks still left there, causing me to shiver a little.
I’m too exhausted to continue the conversation. Talking about seeing them again more often, I want that.How often is often?More regularly than once every three months, like this gap was since I saw them last.Every two months, one month? Weekends?Maybe it’s harder for them to find the time to join me together.Would they come and see me more often if it was individually sometimes?
I have no idea. I don’t even know the true extent of the other commitments they have to deal with.
Maybe tomorrow, in the morning, we can figure something out. Work out the next time we’ll be able to get together will be, at least.
Will they still be here in the morning?
The thought strikes me and makes my stomach twist. That first night, they’d had other business to attend to and had to leave before I woke. I don’t want to let them go like that, but I’m too exhausted to ask. I’m already dozing and can’t force myself awake enough to say the words.
I just have to trust them.
