by Heather Long
His frown was fierce, but he answered anyway. “I was always the reasonable one. The one that kept them in line. Tarus had a little too much fun with his grace, and Zhan was obsessed with humanity.”
As soon as it had started, the headache began to fade. I giggled and mentally sighed in relief when it didn’t hurt. “That’s such a lame explanation. Zhan.” I looked to my sexy angel on the floor. “What were you guys like back then?”
He smirked and teased his fingertips under the edges of my shorts. “Seth is exactly the same. He was a frigid stick in the ass, even back then.”
Seth huffed.
“Don’t you mean stick in the mud?” I laughed.
“No, he was literally a stick in the ass. I believe you call it a pain in the ass today, only I like my saying better because he was also stiff and no fun at all.” That pulled a laugh from everyone, even a reluctant chuckle from Seth. “Then Tarus was wild, lived on adrenaline rushes. Yours truly was too curious about humans to stay away. So I found myself in markets and arenas, watching and studying what made them tick. They had always seemed so lively for such fragile creatures. It fascinated me that so little fire could burn so bright before it was extinguished.”
I’d thought Zhan was the more sensitive of the three, but this cemented it. This little bit of insight confirmed what I’d already assumed.
Then I addressed Tarus. “And what did you guys do for fun back then?”
He laid his arms along the back of the couch, stretching his soft cotton T-shirt across his chest and abdomen. These guys really knew how to play up their best features, and I couldn’t even hate them for it. I was actually on the flip side of that, because I enjoyed their displays way too much.
“There wasn’t a lot to do back then like there is now. We’d spend our time together cooking and eating meals together, flying out to our favorite spots, or going to watch gladiator fights. Typical things for the time.”
Tarus made it sound so domesticated. These three were strong, virile men, with a lot of passion. I was sure it wasn’t anything like he described it to be. But it at least gave me a starting point, because even if they didn’t admit it, they were all enjoying the walk down memory lane.
“Yeah, Seth,” Zhan chimed in. “Remember that time we were on the island of Crete? When you thought you could beat Tarus at bull leaping? That was a rookie mistake you should have never tried.” He shook his head in mock sympathy.
“Okay, I have to know this story, because it sounds so un-Seth-like.”
“It was Tarus’ fault. He made it seem too easy.” Seth met my gaze and adjusted me right over his hardening cock. Oh boy.
“Brother, you have to keep your wings tucked in, or better yet, use your human form when you flip over the bull’s head.” Tarus winked at me when I glanced his way. “Seth was just a sore loser.”
Laughing, I pushed my way up from Seth’s lap, careful not to step on Zhan. “I have to run to the bathroom, I’ll be right back.”
Spots riddled my vision after my first step, and my entire body felt off, almost less. By my third step, everything went black.
17
‘The road to hell is paved with good intentions.’ The problem with intentions? They aren’t the best surface material and crumble under pressure. Potholes. Disintegrating bricks. Bumpy rides. Sharp jagged edges under your feet. Besides, what if I don’t want to go where the road does? Haven’t you ever heard of taking a short cut across the field? - Dahlia
Seth
She hadn’t moved for more than a couple of hours. The absolute stillness took him back to the first time—only time—he’d bedded her. His brothers had stayed to allow him and Dahlia to be together, but Seth had resisted the lure. He didn’t want to share her with them. More, he didn’t want to endanger her again, yet here she lay. If Zhan hadn’t moved as swiftly as he had, she would have hit the table on her way down.
Tarus and he had been a split-second behind him, though once Zhan held her, he wouldn’t relinquish her, even when he settled on the bed with her in his arms. Nothing they had done woke her. Not Tarus calling her with a brush of his knuckles to her cheek. Not Zhan cradling her as he pressed his lips to her forehead. Nor Seth holding her hands in his.
Cool.
Still.
She would go until she just stopped.
It was too soon. They should have weeks left.
The silence in the room dragged out between them. None had withdrawn. As much as Seth might resent Zhan for holding her, he was grateful that his brothers were there.
“It’s too soon,” he finally said when the third hour ticked past with no reaction from her.
“She’s asleep,” Tarus stated. “She’ll wake up again.”
Seth craved the absolute certainty resonating in his voice. “We haven’t taken any more from her. We haven’t touched her.” As much as he hated to admit it.
“We’re aware,” Zhan said with a glare in his direction. “You’ve managed to turn cockblocking into an artform.”
He waved his hand at the accusation. “I told you when we agreed to this, I was not prepared to share her with you yet. I don’t trust either of you, and you don’t trust me.”
“Yet, we’ve all managed to inhabit the same space for several days without killing each other.” The dry observation was so Tarus.
“On that point, I will agree.” He would have folded his arms, but that would mean letting go of her hands and he couldn’t do that. “Still, the last time it was the pleasure and the power, it was too much. So why now when we haven’t touched her?”
The silence ballooned for a moment as Seth locked gazes with Zhan. They’d woken to the empty domicile, Tarus and Dahlia missing. The note had only said he’d taken her flying, but…
As one, they looked at him.
“What did you do?” Zhan demanded.
Tarus’ slow, almost lazy smile infuriated Seth. “I didn’t do anything she didn’t enjoy.”
“You touched her?”
With a sigh, Punishment glared at him suddenly. “The punishment we were giving her in denial was not one she deserved. So I gave her that which she craved and distracted her from the melancholy of her impending end. We promised her more, and all we’ve done is dance around each other. She’s right, we are fighting over her like a bone and, for your information, she is the reason I left the note.”
Seth was still back at the point he’d touched her. “This is why she collapsed. You flooded her with power.”
“No,” Tarus denied. “I took nothing from her, and I didn’t fill her, no matter how much I would have enjoyed it. I only gave her pleasure, took her mind from her troubles, and set her free. Then when she was loose and relaxed, I took her flying.” He dragged his gaze from Seth’s to rest on her face again. “I made her laugh and talked to her. I liked talking to her.”
Seth liked talking to her, too. He wanted to talk to her right now. But if Tarus hadn’t… “Then why is she unconscious?”
“Asleep,” Zhan told him in an almost soothing voice. “Look, she’s dreaming.” He nodded his head to her, and Seth leaned forward. Her eyelids shifted, albeit minutely, but they were moving. Relief crashed in on him.
“Brother,” Tarus said almost as gently as Zhan. “We may tease you, but we have no desire to lose her either.”
“If you’d done your damn jobs, she wouldn’t be like this.” Anger swelled in him. “It was one thing that you abandoned me, but to abandon her? And now you want to claim you care?”
While Tarus stiffened, it was Zhan who answered him. “We left because I cared too much. It was killing me, Seth.”
“What?” He jerked his gaze up to meet Zhan’s. No deception filled his voice, and his expression was open and raw.
“You heard me. I was dying. Every time I rendered justice, every time I saved someone, it didn’t matter. More died anyway. Sometimes I had to choose between the lesser of two evils, and how is that ever a choice? Humanity is capable of so much destruction desp
ite their beauty.” Then his brother sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Justice had to be served. Even if the person in question would have been justified in their actions. Shouldn’t it matter when someone kills to defend themselves? Or when someone commits a crime to feed another?”
“Laws change,” Seth reminded him. “Morality shifts. Ethics don’t.”
“Yeah, Justice didn’t care. A wrong was a wrong.” Zhan glanced down at Dahlia. “She’s here because as much as I wanted to act, I couldn’t.” Real regret inhabited his voice. “You were right, I could have saved her. This is my fault.”
“No,” Tarus said before Seth could respond. “It’s mine. I stopped you. I felt the pull every bit as much as you did, but I couldn’t bear to see you spiral again, and I thought, what did one life matter?”
It was Dahlia’s life. She mattered.
“If I had more courage,” Zhan argued. “I didn’t have to listen. I took her at Sinner’s without letting you dissuade me.” A heavy sigh escaped him.
This was what he’d wanted her to show them and now…
Seth sat heavily on the bed. “You’re both here because I sent her to punish you. I saved her because I had to, but I sent her to punish you both for abandoning your duty.”
“Kind of figured that out, brother,” Tarus told him wryly.
“Yes,” Zhan agreed. “You weren’t exactly subtle.”
Scrubbing a hand over his face, Seth tugged at his beard. “She matters as more than punishment.”
They didn’t say anything. There wasn’t anything to say. Except…
“When she goes, it’s going to hurt.” He didn’t know if he would survive that. Judgment had stood alone for a millennia. A few days with her light, and the world would be so much darker without her in it.
He should have acted before that last blow. But Judgment couldn’t have intervened before he’d made it a conscious act to kill her. The assault was severe, but she could have survived it until that last blow.
His grace damned her in one breath and saved her in the next. His grace…
“What if I give her more?” He glanced at his brothers, and Tarus shook his head.
“Seth, have you looked at yourself? Really looked?”
“Why would I look at myself?”
“Your aura, brother,” Zhan told him gently. “You have changed. You’re in danger of falling.”
“No, Zhan, he’s already fallen.” The comment from Tarus made him frown.
“I don’t care.” For once that was true. Judgment unfolded in him. Saving Dahlia was worth it. When he would have reached for her, Tarus covered his hands over Seth’s where he held hers. The connection sparked through his system, an acknowledgment of his brother. The strength they’d once shared.
“Brother, think. Humans can only take so much grace. You’ve already illuminated her. If you give her more, you might speed the process. She will burn too brightly. And the truth is, we don’t know what would happen. Are you willing to take the risk?”
“Don’t rob us of what time we have left.”
Tarus’ logic made him ache, but Zhan’s plea twisted him. “I don’t want to lose her.”
“Losing her is inevitable,” Tarus told him, the depth of loss echoing in his words. “Even if we had saved her before, she would still die. That is the doom of caring for them.”
And what he didn’t say echoed into the quiet around them. Why they fought so hard against their duty, against caring.
Judgment had stood aside, keeping his distance and doing his work. He’d done their work, too. Though he lacked their gifts and his own grace restrained him until after the acts had been committed.
“I don’t care,” he said it again. “I won’t trade even an hour with her.”
“Then love her, brother,” Tarus said. “But stop holding yourself aloof from her and don’t drive us away.”
He snorted. “You both want to just take her.”
“But we’re not,” Zhan countered. “We’re here. Do I want her? Yes. Every single minute. But I haven’t stolen her because I said I wouldn’t.”
“And I can’t say it hasn’t occurred to me,” Tarus admitted. “But she needs more than you standing between us and holding yourself back. It’s not just the pleasure, it’s the experience. I took her to the cliffs today. Her face when she looked over all of it…”
Seth could imagine. “There are so many things I want to show her.”
“Then we do that,” Zhan decided. “We give her the opportunities she should have had.”
“And share her?” Seth eyed him. He hadn’t missed their admissions.
“Would that really be so bad?”
Though Tarus asked the question, it was Zhan Seth focused on. How he held her. The way he had her braced against his chest, and how he made no secret of rubbing his cheek to her hair as though constantly reassuring himself she was there.
Tarus still covered Seth’s hands on Dahlia’s. They both studied Zhan, waiting, and their brother finally looked from her to them, then back to her. His expression shifted, a wild array of emotions playing across his features. He’d always been too open with his heart, too passionate about his convictions—part of that was Justice, but a lot of that was Zhan. Judgment had not always been good at protecting him.
“Would it, Zhan?” Tarus pressed. “Would it be so bad for all of us to share her?”
Zhan, who kept saying she gave herself to him, but it was to Seth she’d wanted to return. To Seth whose bed she’d chosen. Seth would never forget what kissing her each time had been like, every single one an imprint on his memory. The feistiness in her arguments, and the delightful laughter that would emerge almost unbidden.
In some ways, she was the most complicated and simplest joy he’d ever experienced. Seth couldn’t let her go, but the last few days had proven he could share. If it meant more time with her, if it meant she was happy.
Could Zhan?
With a sigh, Zhan relaxed his shoulders, then pressed a kiss to her hair before he said, “She’s ours.” The admission riveted Tarus, and Seth lifted his chin. Loosening his grip on her, Zhan reached forward and covered Tarus’ hands so they were all bound. “She’s all of ours.”
“Agreed,” Tarus exhaled, then looked at Seth. “Yes?”
Seth stared at her slumbering face. “Yes, brothers, she’s ours.”
It cost him. But not as much as he expected.
Not as much as he might have feared.
“Ours,” he repeated. “Wake up, our Dahlia. See what you have done.”
She’d brought his brothers back. Whether they would stay or not…he would face that later. Right now, all he wanted to see was her.
“Come back to us, Beauty,” Tarus whispered. “See the miracle you have wrought.”
Zhan chuckled. “You should hurry before the stick in Seth’s ass regrows.”
A snicker escaped Tarus, and Seth sighed. It wasn’t funny.
Though the corners of his mouth began to twitch. “Maybe I have removed it,” Seth conceded. “All the better to beat you both with.”
Silence greeted him, and Seth glanced up to find both brothers gaping at him.
“Was that a joke?” Tarus asked.
“Who are you, and what have you done with our brother?” Zhan dared.
“Haha,” Seth returned in a flat tone, right as his stomach rumbled with fury.
“Guess that means we’ve missed a few meals.” Zhan sighed, cradling Dahlia closer. “Who’s venturing out to get food?”
Tarus picked up a pillow and cocked back like he was going to throw it, then set it down. It was probably a reflex before he realized Dahlia would be in the line of fire. “And I guess from your question and the way you’re holding Dahlia like your prized stuffy, that means that you aren’t an option.”
“Hell no.” Zhan grinned.
“Fine, then I’ll go.” He let go of the pillow and slid off the end of the bed. “Make nice while I’m gone. I don’t want to come back to a
war zone,” Tarus tossed over his shoulder.
This time, Seth did throw a pillow, hitting Tarus right in the back of the head. “We’re past that stage now, and I believe you were present. Two minutes ago.”
A laugh echoed down the hallway before the quiet settled around the brothers and Dahlia. Until she woke up, and they assured themselves she was okay, reality was going to crash back in like the tide every few minutes.
“Hey, Seth,” Zhan called, drawing his attention away from a slumbering Dahlia.
“Yeah, Zhan?” How long had it been since they’d had such an easy conversation? Definitely not when they were in cake competitions, and not any time in millennia. It freed something inside of him that he hadn’t realized he had locked away.
Taking a deep breath, Zhan continued, “I’ve shared women with Tarus more than I’ve had a woman to myself since we fell. But this feels different. Everything in me rebels at the idea of sharing Dahlia, even though there’s no one I would rather have her back than you and Tarus. Why do you think that is?”
What an odd question. He knew they had shared, it had started well before they separated from him, but it wasn’t as frequent. Seth supposed it was odd that someone so used to sharing would balk at the very idea with a woman he hardly knew.
“I think, brother,” Zhan closed his eyes on hearing that word fall from Seth’s lips, as if he’d never thought he’d hear it again, “that Dahlia’s spirit was so bright, so pure, it shines on you in a way that makes you feel worthy. At least, that’s how I feel when I’m around her. And it isn’t unfathomable that you would want to keep that all to yourself. The fact that the more we get to know Dahlia, the more we grow to care for her, doesn’t make the idea of sharing her any easier. But look at me. I’m the perfect example of how it can work. I’m watching you hold her in your arms without ripping said limbs from your body.” A small smile tipped up one side of his mouth, and he pulled his braid over his shoulder.
“Yeah, I think you’re right.”
They went back to observing Dahlia, comfortable in their silence. At the first sign of Dahlia waking up, Seth wanted to be the first person she saw. If not the first, because he highly doubted Zhan would relinquish her, then the second.
