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“What? No. I love your hair.”
“You wouldn’t love it more with red highlights?”
I might possibly love it more with red highlights. I do love seeing that russet gleam when the sun catches it.
“Dark red?”
“Whatever my fashion consultant dictates,” Gabe says easily, pulling me out of Darwin’s hold and swinging me around.
“Okay, dark red highlights would be lush, mate.”
We break apart, framing Darwin and linking arms with him. I grab Charlie’s hand before Gabe can, because I haven’t had enough Charlie-time recently. We scuff through the dusting of snow that’s sticking to the path.
“How d’you know how to grow hair back anyway?” I ask Darwin. “Not exactly a usual Fire-mage skill.”
“I used to do it for my sisters. It’s a thing at my father’s court, cutting off girls’ hair as a dare. Orlaith had hair all the way down to her knees. She cried for days when some little Meadlilly prick cut it. I couldn’t stand seeing her so sad. I bribed one of the court crones to teach me the right charm. Cost me a whole year’s allowance.”
I tip my head onto his shoulder. “You’re kind of a soft touch, Princely.”
He snorts. “Her crying gave me migraines.”
“Sure. We gonna meet your sisters at Yule?”
“I-yes. I mean, are you coming to court for Yule?”
Both Gabe and Charlie look at me sharply.
“I think we have to,” I tell them. “I know Lords and Doctor Prince are workin’ hard on keeping me here, but I think Yule’s the key to fixing the timelines. I have to face Da.”
Somehow. Without killing him.
“We’ll be right beside you, bean,” Charlie says, squeezing my hand.
Darwin glances around. Seeing the certainty on our faces, he nods. “I’ll tell my father.”
Chapter29
A Dearth of D
Can you die from lack of dick?
I think you can. The boys are putting it to the test, anyway.
When we get back to our suite, Charlie smacks me on the arse. “Into the shower. I’ll join you in a tick.”
“Says you.” I shove the bag of gloves and pads I’m carrying into his chest.
“Oof.” He grabs the bag and slings it onto the dining table. “Yeah, says me. You tellin’ me no?”
Am I? I love the boys’ dominance, but I’m not sure about playing their games when there’s no hope of orgasms.
“I’ll consider it if the dick-boycott ends.”
Gabe smacks me on the arse.
“Hey!”
“That’s not how submission works,” he tells me. “You submit because you want to give up control to us. Not just when it’s easy. Not just when it’s fun. Not just when we give you the kind of sex you want.”
