by Angel Lawson
“Exactly.” He grins and it’s almost heart-stopping. “I’m not here as a betrayal to Demetria, although she would probably see it that way. Increasingly her delusions seem bigger—deeper. I’m worried about her. The gala was totally out of control. Using her powers like that in public?”
“She had the Pixie Dust to protect her.”
“And a lot of public relations damage control. It gave Kincade a chance to slip in with the Mayor. I don’t know what will happen if he wins those properties.”
“She’ll lose her freaking mind, won’t she? You know, relatively speaking.”
“Yep. She and Kincade are already playing with fire. Literally. More people will get hurt.” He looks at her intently. “You could get hurt.”
“What do we need to do?” she asks. “Have it called off? Alert the Mayor? The police?”
“I think we let it go on as planned and just give Demetria what she needs for tomorrow. She needs a day to shine. She loves this city so much and this is a good thing.”
“You just want us to pander to her.”
“I want you to let her have her day and we’ll use it to shut down Kincade—the legal way.”
“Do you have a plan for that?” Because she sure as hell doesn’t. Not without placing them all in trouble.
“Yeah, I think I do.”
Astrid studies him for a moment, eager to hear his plan, but there’s something she has to ask first.
“I know she’s into this Lost Boy thing, but does she treat you okay? Because you know there are other options out there. You’re not alone.”
His crystal blue eyes burn into hers. “She’s intense. Demanding and often on the edge. She saved me from a very lonely, desperate place. I owe her, and I appreciate her. I want to help her.”
Astrid squeezes his hand. “She was my friend, too. I want to help her as well. But I won’t back down if she forces my hand.”
“I don’t want you to. Why do you think I set all this up?”
His smile is genuine and the emotions that roll off of him are hard to handle. He’s pure. His motives true. It’s a lot for Astrid to deal with but it’s also easy. There are no shades with Draco. Just honesty.
He squeezes her hand back and says, “Let’s figure out how to turn this situation around, because if we leave it up to her, all hell is going to break loose.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Owen
Astrid may be stubborn, a terrible eater, and a filthy slob, but she’s not stupid.
She may have gone out alone that night to check on the kid from the fire, but she turned on her mask and com. Instead of playing video games, the men watched as she crept through Crescent Homes and watched as she realized Draco was following her.
“I knew it,” Quinn mutters later. They’d left the Lair once she was safely on her way back home. She and Casper were in contact. And they’d decided to head up to the apartment to check on Luby before she left. “I knew there was more to him when I fought him.”
“She did too, I guess. Which is why she read him at the party.”
Owen stretches out on the couch. It’s been a long day. A long week. Tomorrow is going to be insane. So many things could go wrong with their plan. Both Kincade and Demetria were wild cards. “Do you think he’s legit?”
“I think Astrid trusts him,” Quinn says. He sits on the opposite end.
“Yeah,” he agrees. “It looks that way.”
Quinn turns on the TV, flipping through the channels. He passes two news reports about the parade. Casper will record them to go over tomorrow before the event. To Owen’s surprise, he stops on a cartoon.
“Really?” he asks as a talking unicorn comes on screen.
“Shit. Sorry. I was trying to avoid the news.”
Down the hall, the door opens and Astrid’s footsteps carry down the hall. She speaks in a quiet voice which is followed by Harry meowing back. Owen rolls his eyes and Quinn laughs.
“Hey,” she says, standing in the doorway. She’s in a white, tight, V-neck Elite T-shirt and red shorts. Her thin gloves cover her hands. “You watch the feed?”
“Yeah,” Owen says, patting the cushion next to him. “You okay with it all?”
She nods. “Can we talk about it tomorrow?”
“Sure,” Quinn says, watching her walk past him to the kitchen where they can hear the sound of crinkling snack bags and the hiss of soda. She comes back in the room, chugging the bottle of Mountain Dew, and stands before them. Harry winds between her legs, tail flipping.
Her shirt is ridiculously tight—two sizes too small. She probably likes the way it feels, the tight compression against her skin, but all it does is accentuate the dark circles of her nipples, and the raised peaks where they rub against the fabric.
Owen’s eyes skim down her legs at the tight shorts covering her ass. She’s oblivious. Maybe. He knows she can sense everything about them. Their heart rates. Their scent. She can probably hear the blood rushing to their balls. Yeah, their. Because there is no way Quinn’s not feeling it too.
She reaches down and pets her cat, giving them a wide view of her cleavage. “Well, I’m headed to bed, see you in the morning.” Her next move is to step over the cat to give Quinn a kiss on the cheek. Her hand lingers on his shoulder. His cheeks flush and his eyes are glued to her chest, and when she turns to the do the same to Owen he snaps, grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her on the couch.
She looks up at him with raised eyebrows and a small smirk.
“I don’t know what game you’re playing, Astrid, but I do think it’s dangerous.”
“You don’t know?” she bats her eyelashes and glances between the two men. “Really?”
He doesn’t blink. He doesn’t hesitate. He just kisses her, right there on the couch, right there next to Quinn. And when her hand reaches over to the other man he kisses her harder, encouraging her, because that is where she wants this to go and he’s known for weeks. Now he’s willing to take whatever journey she plans on leading him on.
She pulls away from Owen and faces Quinn. “You okay with this?” she asks, which is interesting that she didn’t ask Owen. But maybe enough has transpired between them for that to be clear.
“I am,” Quinn says quietly, eyes glued to hers. She licks her lips and brings him in for a kiss; it’s gentle and her hand that is intertwined with Owen’s releases, dropping to his lap. He’s already hard, turned on by the entire scene. He’s not sure how far this will go tonight, but he wants to make one thing certain: this is about Astrid. Not them.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Quinn
When Quinn finally comes up for air, Owen makes a quick move, dragging Astrid back against his chest. His friend exhales when her backside presses against his crotch, a signal of slight relief but more frustration. Quinn has never understood a man’s motivation as much as he has in this moment. He doesn’t need Astrid’s empathic abilities to know what Owen is feeling. He’s consumed by it too, intense want. Overwhelming desire.
She leans back into Owen, grinding against him, and he presses his lips to her neck. Quinn isn’t sure where to go from here. This is definitely new to him—surely, new to her, but Astrid is brave—exciting. And this has been building for days, if not weeks.
“Hey,” she says, calling him over with a bent finger, “come here.”
He scoots closer, acutely aware of the hardening of his cock, the way it bulges in his shorts. Her eyes dart downward, probably sensing his thoughts, and she touches his face and her hands travel down his cheeks to his chest.
Her eyes brighten, dilating and constricting with every beat of his heart. Owen’s hands move to her breasts, kneading them with his hands, tugging at the hem of her shirt and revealing her flat stomach.
Quinn moves to his knees and bends over her, kissing the smooth flesh of her belly. Her stomach dips, her legs spread. Owen’s hand slides down her side, thumb trailing over her nipple, and he pushes his fingers beneath the waist of her pants.
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Astrid shudders and grabs Quinn by the neck, pulling his mouth to hers. Her kiss is breathless, hungry, and her hands reach between his legs. He sees Owen’s teeth flash, biting down on her shoulder before yanking her shirt over her head. Her breasts are exposed--mercy, they’re perfect--and Quinn doesn’t hesitate to press his face between them. He licks the supple skin, toys with her nipples. Her hand moves along the shaft of Quinn’s cock, building a rhythm, and her body shifts in time, lifted by strong hands seeking their own relief.
They move like this, her hands on him, Owen’s fingers pleasuring her, her ass providing friction for him. He’s got her bouncing on his cock, which makes for a glorious sight for Quinn. Her tits bounce in rhythm. All three are shirtless but clothed below. It’s a barrier that none seem ready to cross. But they need this. He sees it in her eyes. Tastes it on her tongue. A release before tomorrow. A bonding to cement their trust.
Astrid’s breathing becomes uneven, her kisses sloppy. She whines against Owen’s fingers, whatever it is he’s doing under the cotton of her shorts is something Quinn must learn. Right now, his brain is turning foggy with every stroke of her hand. Even over his shorts it feels fantastic. She feels fantastic and he’s stunned at what she does next.
At the height of it all, when they’re about to fall like dominoes, she whispers, “Take the gloves off and take my hands.”
He’s never known such fear.
And although he’s avoided it so far, he and Owen lock eyes, knowing this is the moment. It’s pass or fail. If she doesn’t find her truth here, then they’re over.
Completely, fucking, destroyed.
Trust.
It’s a terrifying thing.
He nods at Owen, the slightest of moves, and at the same time, amid heavy breathing, pounding hearts and throbbing heat, they pull the satin that protects Astrid from the world. From them.
She returns her hand to his cock and rests her other on her belly and says, “I’m ready.”
Owen’s hand slides down her arm until it comes to rest on her hand. Quinn does the same, enveloping her small hand in his large one, wrapping both around his cock.
Astrid gasps and a shiver runs through them. All three. She feels them and they definitely feel her and when enough heartbeats have passed to prove they are true, she exhales and once again they begin to move.
The feelings can’t be normal, because before, it felt good, even through fabric, but what comes next is almost more than Quinn can handle.
He doesn’t just have an orgasm. He has an experience. It’s one full of love, light, and trust. Euphoria. Sheer pleasure. The release comes hard, almost violent, and he can’t help but crush his mouth to hers, the sensation so overwhelming. She bites down on his lip and cries against his tongue.
He’s not the only one. Owen’s eyes close and he grips Astrid on the hip, pulling her close as he groans into her neck. A string of curses tumble over his lips and his cheeks turn red.
“Christ,” he breathes, forcing his trembling hand to stay steady. Astrid writhes on top of him, almost curling in on herself as she tumbles over the edge of her own orgasm.
“Oh god,” she cries. It sounds like pain, and the men look at one another, panicked.
“Is it too much?” Quinn asks, knowing the intensity of his own feelings. It must be quadrupled for her. She bucks against Owen’s hand.
“Do I stop?” he asks.
“No,” she pants. “Please no. Touch me. More. Anywhere. Everywhere.”
They do as she demands. Hands, mouths, fingers, teeth. She wants it hard, crying out in pleasure the further they pinch, push, and twist. She’s now sprawled on the couch with both men cradling her, feeling her—loving her.
She finally shatters, the orgasm cresting over her like a wave, with a chest-rattling moan.
“Damn,” Owen says, kissing her gently across the face and neck. “Damn, damn, damn.”
She gazes at the two of them with a grin that matches her emotions. Feelings linger under Quinn’s skin. Feelings he won’t be able to shake for a long, long time.
If ever.
As her breathing settles, a feeling of peace also settles over the three of them, but Quinn’s mind doesn’t stop. He can’t stop thinking about the woman next to him—the one he’s still touching. This wasn’t their first time. He’s fucked her before. High on adrenaline, horny from too many years alone. But this was something different. He finally understands her fear—the way her power takes over. It’s the first time he does because it’s not a controlled setting. It’s not training or testing for the field.
What they just experienced was real. From the heart. A connecting of the souls. All layers were stripped away and none of them will ever go back to how they were before.
It’s impossible.
She showed them euphoria. The place beyond lust, and may god be with them when they finally make love without the barriers. This was nothing—just a taste of what’s out there.
That is, if they make it past tomorrow.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Astrid
“I have something for you,” Casper says into her com.
She’s in the changing room. Alone. The boys are in the other room going over the parade route one more time. She’s not sure why. They’ve gone over it a dozen times and Casper has programmed all of it into their systems.
Even so, she doesn’t mind a minute alone to get ready. After their encounter the night before, things have been tense.
Not in a bad way, but in a things-have-changed-and-where-do-we-go-from-here-kind of way.
“Echo?”
“What?”
“Did you hear me?”
She’s glad he can’t see her blush, because it keeps happening after thinking about last night. “Yes, you have something for me. What is it?”
“I was going through some of Atticus’s notes last night. Ones about the suit and tools. There’s something on your belt that I didn’t realize before.”
She tugs up her gloves and pretends hearing his name doesn’t bother her right now. “What is it?”
“It looks like it was just a prototype, like a lot of the things we have, but you see those two rings hanging from the sides?”
She’s noticed them before. They seemed decorative or like a spot to hang a weapon. She touches them. “Yeah.”
“If I’m reading the material right, those are handcuffs.”
She pulls them off the belt and holds them up. “For what? An elf?”
“Pull them.”
She slips her fingers into the loops and tugs. The metal gives, expanding into wrist-sized bracelets. There’s a hum and a slight vibration between them.
“You feel that?” Quinn asks in the other room.
“It’s me,” she calls out. “Just messing with some stuff.”
She shuts them together and the current stops.
“What do they do?” she asks.
“Looks like they’re magnetic—heavy duty—if you put them on someone, they’ll hold. There’s no getting out of them.”
“So just handcuffs?”
“No,” he says. “They also can do a few other things. The biggest one is they can shut down a Super’s powers.”
She looks at them again. “You’re kidding?”
“Nope.” He pauses. “I think Atticus gave this to you and only you for a reason. To use against a Super if they go off the rails. Demetria may be there soon.”
“Blaze already is.”
“Exactly.”
She returns the cuffs to her belt. “Thanks for showing me. I have a feeling they’ll come in handy.”
“Don’t be afraid to use them, Astrid. On friend or enemy.”
She stops. “You think there’s a problem?”
“I think the field is getting crowded. Not everyone is a friend.”
“I know that. I just said Blaze is a problem. We’re going to deal with him.”
“He may not be the only one.”
She sighs.
“Who are you talking about, Cas?”
“No one in particular. Just be careful. People are not always what they seem.”
“Like you’re not really a ghost?” She snaps back, then laughs. “Just kidding. We all know you’re a pasty kid hiding in the basement. Basically, a ghost.”
“Good luck, babe,” he says, offering his most annoying term of endearment. This time she had it coming.
“I don’t need luck,” she says, adjusting her mask. “I have you watching over my shoulder.”
*
The team agreed to be on the float with Demetria, and although they’re in their suits, that is not their costume.
Yes, costume.
Even before dusk, lanterns light up the streets, bringing a glow to the warring zone between two neighborhoods.
“Damn. I always knew you were a smoking hot babe, but this takes it to a new level.”
“Casper. Shut up.”
“I can’t. You look like every dream, fantasy, and nightmare of mine all rolled up in one. Promise me, when we finally meet, you’ll wear that, okay?”
“I don’t know what’s hotter,” Owen adds, “Seeing Echo in that fairy get-up or knowing she’s got more firepower under her skirts than any of the police out here tonight.”
“You too?” she asks him. He nods and doesn’t hide his appreciation of her in the ridiculous outfit. “And is that firepower thing an innuendo?”
He raises his eyebrows.
“Well, I may be wearing this stupid, glittery abomination but she didn’t get very creative with you, did she?”
Owen gets to wear his suit—only slightly modified. He wears a jaunty cap and carries a quiver full of arrows on his back. His mask is off, just like all of theirs, so he looks less menacing. There’s no doubt about it. Demetria dressed him up like Peter Pan.
The whole float, to her absolute unsurprise, is an homage to Neverland. And sure enough, Astrid is Tinkerbelle.
Built on a flatbed truck, there’s no doubt who the star of the night will be. Demetria wants all eyes on her and her magical playground. In the front is a giant tree with a house tucked into the branches. Animals and butterflies flutter about. The back portion is a ship, Captain Hook’s, and although James is long dead, she’s made a new captain, with a perfect smile and a gleaming hook.
