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“It’s okay, Devil Prince, I’m here now,” she murmurs when we come up for air, and she’s so fucking beautiful, even pale and hurting—maybe more so—that I can’t fucking breathe for a second. Instead, I just stand there, holding her face in my hands and drinking her in. “Help me out?”
Taking her arm, I help her out of the van; her hissed breaths making anger flare hot in my veins.
“Dove? Are you okay?” Aeron says, suddenly in front of us, his eyes tracing over every part of her, lingering on the arm that’s in a sling, and I can see his beast howl at the fact that she’s injured.
“Better now,” she answers, giving my arm a squeeze and then stepping into him, wrapping her good arm around his waist and laying her cheek on his chest. His arms go around her, careful of her wounded shoulder, and I see his eyes glisten as he looks down at her.
“Fuck, Dove, I was so fucking worried about you. I thought we’d lost you, I—” His words choke off and his shoulders shake as he buries his head into her hair. It’s with a start that I realize he’s crying, and I can count on one hand the few times that my brother has cried.
“It’s okay, Devil Man, I’m here now,” she coos, her voice soft and like a balm that we didn’t know we needed.
After a time, his relief subsides, and he straightens up, taking one arm from around her and using his hand to tilt her chin upwards, his cheeks glistening in the starlight. “I would never have stopped looking, Dove,” he tells her, his voice thick yet firm. “I wouldn’t have given up, my love.”
Watching my brother kiss my soulmate fills me with an almost painful joy, knowing that they both bring each other a happiness that can’t be replicated makes my heart want to burst inside my chest. And who the fuck cares if our love and relationship isn’t considered normal. Fuck society and their bullshit rules and normality.
Knox walks over, barely waiting until Aeron has finished before he spins her around, a growl sounding in Aeron’s chest when she cries out as Knox jostles her shoulder.
“Fuck you, Aeron,” Knox snarls, wasting no time in claiming her mouth with a hunger that makes my mouth salivate and my cock pulse. She gives in to him, so fucking pliable in his arms as he devours her, Aeron at her back.
“I’m glad you boys found someone who clearly loves you all as much as you do her,” Pops comments from beside me, and I cut a glance to see him look away from Knox and Lark, his cheeks a little darker than usual. A smile pulls my lips up at his blush. “You should talk to him, son.” My brows shoot up and he just chuckles, clapping me on the back. “I’ve known about your relationship for years, boy. You’re not exactly a subtle person, Jude.”
“True,” I reply with a laugh. “I’m mad at him, Pops. He left us to die without even a goodbye.” My throat almost closes as the words tumble from my mouth, and it takes a moment before I make the connection between what Tarl did and what happened to my sister eight years ago. I didn’t get to say goodbye to her either.
“He made a mistake, thinking that he had to do this alone,” Pops says gently, squeezing my shoulder. “But look at him, Jude. He feels like shit about it. Especially as his actions caused Lark to be hurt. There’s a reason he didn’t fight back.”
He uses his grip to turn me so that I can see Tarl leaning against the horse box, staring at Lark, Aeron, and Knox like a starving man looking in the window of a bakery. I blow out a puff of air, stepping away from my Pops and walking over to my lover. His gaze snaps up to mine, and I can see all the pain and anguish swirling like a maelstrom in his eyes, the different colors clear even in the moonlight.
“I don’t fucking forgive you,” I state, stepping right into his body, pressing our hard chests together as I look him dead in the eyes. “But I still fucking love you, Tarl.”
Grabbing a fistful of his soft hair, I close the distance between us, slamming my lips to his in a brutal kiss of punishment and relief. He doesn’t kiss me back for a moment, and then with a growl, his hand closes around the front of my throat and he takes charge of the kiss, his lips and tongue all the apology I need.
“I’m sorry, Brat,” he murmurs against my swollen lips what feels like an eternity later. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“You never leave me again, you hear?” I demand, tears once again falling down my cheeks. He kisses each one, lapping them up, and my hard cock strains in my pants—fucking plain black in order to better blend in, or so Aeron said. You only wear black pants when bad things happen, so I’m going to fucking burn them when we get home and never wear black pants again. Nothing bad will happen then, problem solved.
“I swear, Jude. I’ll always be by your side,JigarTalâ,” he whispers back, and a sob sounds from my throat at the endearment. I knew it was his thing with Nightingale, but I didn’t realize that I craved hearing him say it to me.
“We need to make a move,” Aeron’s voice sounds behind me, and I turn, Tarl’s hand falling from my throat but grasping my hand.
“Looks like it’s you and me in the hay,JigarTalâ,” Lark jokes, biting her lips at her own pun, which is just too fucking adorable.
“No fair, I want to join in,” I whine, hearing Tarl’s deep chuckle which sends shivers straight to my straining cock.
“We’re both injured—” Tarl warns, cutting off when I whirl around and frantically look at him, only now remembering what Nightingale said in the van.
“Where?” My heart races, the blood rushing past my ears in a torrent as I note the bruise on his cheek and the blood from his split lip that I know Knox gave him. He holds up his left hand, and my eyes widen when I see the bandage wrapped around it.
“Luckily, I stopped using my fingers to count when I was a boy, as I’d only have nine now,” he shrugs, and I grip his wrist, seeing the part where his little finger should be is much flatter than you’d expect.
“First, there is fuck all wrong with counting on your fingers,” I tell him, fucking bastard for calling me out like that. “And second, well, fuck. Guess I’m lucky it wasn’t that beautiful dick of yours they chopped off.”
“Did not need to know that, son.” Pops sighs, and like a dam has broken, we all laugh until tears flow down our cheeks, the beautiful, Iranian night sky twinkling above us.
Lark
“Unconditional” by Freya Ridings
“I am not fucking crawling into that for fourteen fucking hours!” I stand there, one hand on my hip—the other being in a bloody sling—as I look at the metal horse box that Tarl and I will spend the next fourteen hours in. “What if I need a piss?”
