by Pam Godwin
Whatever it was hovered like a thick cloud between us, begging to be shouted.
“I don’t need skin-on-skin contact anymore, but I still need you. All three of you.” I blew out a breath, frustrated that I was the only one willing to voice what we were all thinking. “You’re going to make me spell this out, aren’t you?”
Roark crossed his arms over his chest. “I rather enjoy watching ye struggle to ask for it, love.”
The corner of Jesse’s mouth twitched, his gaze on the floor.
Michio rubbed the back of his head and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “She’s tiptoeing because she’s worried about me.” He looked directly in my eyes. “For the four months I was separated from you, I thought of nothing but them taking care of you in every way. Trust me when I say it took most of those long months to replace my resentment and jealousy with contentment. I’ve found peace in the knowledge that they were protecting you and loving you when I couldn’t.”
He looked at Jesse and Roark, and they nodded, their eyes communicating mutual respect and understanding.
I walked toward Michio and reached up to tug his face down to mine. “What happened with Elaine?”
Out of the corner of my vision, I could see the questioning looks from Jesse and Roark.
Michio gripped my hands and pulled them down. “It’s in the past. That’s where we’re leaving it.”
“Ye told Link she was compromised.” Roark narrowed his eyes at Michio. “She’s still alive, out there somewhere. Is she a threat? Wha’s her involvement with ye?”
“She’s not a threat. It’s done.” Michio glared at the door, like he was a twitch away from running through it. “I’m moving on.”
Jesse and Roark shared a look.
Ruthless venom simmered through my blood. “She raped you.”
“Evie, dammit.” Michio turned toward the door and flipped the deadbolt.
“You don’t move on from that without talking through it.” I touched his arm. “Every time I think about it, my stomach knots up. I’m fucking vibrating with the need to kill her.”
He swung back toward me, aggression rippling through his voice. “When I see her again, I will kill her.” He pulled in a breath and schooled his expression. “Right now, I want you to eat and rest. I’m going to do a full exam on you tomorrow. Run some tests. Your health is my only concern. Are we clear?”
“Yeah.” I felt like I might choke on the air, but at least the starting points of future conversations were out in the open now.
With a cursory glance at Jesse and Roark, he led us out of the bathroom.
Somberness rode on the curls of steam that followed us out of the bathroom. But the air became easier to breathe the moment I saw Shea and Paul waiting in the corridor.
They sat against the wall, heads bowed together in quiet conversation, with Darwin sprawled between their outstretched legs.
Darwin’s single ear perked up. Then he came running, jumping around my feet and rubbing his wet nose against my palm. I gave him the head scratches he wanted, and he scrambled away to pester Jesse for more of the same.
Paul rose and pulled Shea to her feet, as they smiled at one another affectionately. When she scanned my guardians’ faces, her expression faltered. Given their pale complexions, dark circles under their eyes, and arms hanging at their sides, she didn’t have to ask if we’d discussed my pregnancy.
“Your room is ready.” Sympathy creased her eyes as she searched my face. “Are you okay?”
I nodded. “We will be.”
A few minutes and a couple tunnels later, we stood in a large utilitarian room. Empty shelves lined the concrete walls. Two queen mattresses and box springs had been shoved together to make a massive bed in the center. Mounds of blankets and pillows lay on top, round and accommodating like the curvy form of a pregnant woman.
Beside the bed stood a folding table, covered with bowls of steaming food. Darwin circled it, his muzzle huffing at the scents of roasted meat, seasoned noodles, and mixed vegetables.
“It’s not a fancy dinner.” Shea strode to the boxes that sat by the door. “But Eddie can do wonders with canned food and his concoction of spices.”
My mouth watered. “We’re grateful. Please pass along our thanks.”
“I will.” She dug through the first box and removed a bottle of whiskey, offering it to Roark. “Merry Christmas.”
Her reminder of the day staggered me. The last time I’d celebrated Christmas, I was sitting in Joel’s lap in our Missouri home, watching Annie and Aaron open their presents.
I no longer had wrapping paper and ornaments and homemade desserts, but I’d been given the priceless gift of togetherness with my guardians and the new life blooming in my womb.
“Bushmills?” Roark placed his hands on Shea’s face and smacked a kiss on her lips. “On de ball, young lady.”
He accepted the amber bottle and set it on the table.
“It’s the only Bushmills I found in Hunter’s stash, so enjoy it.” She tilted her head. “Though, I have to ask. Why Bushmills? I mean, isn’t it Protestant? I thought Jameson was the Catholic whiskey?”
I grinned. I’d asked him this once, too, and had been thoroughly schooled on Irish whiskeys.
“Ach. That was an American myth.” He gripped my hips and steered me toward the table as he answered Shea’s question. “The master distiller at Bushmills was Catholic, even though it was located in predominately Protestant Northern Ireland. And John Jameson himself was Protestant…and Scottish.”
He said the last word as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. Oh, my very proud Irishman. But I knew the real reason he clung to that particular brand was because it reminded him of his life before the plague. It was a drink he loved during a time he missed. It was his way of coping with this new life.
Shea laughed, softly. “Well, consider me educated.” She reached into another box and removed a cell phone and attached charger. “These things don’t have much use unless you can find one with music storage.”
She turned toward Jesse, who stood nearest to her, and dropped it in his hands.
Excitement fluttered through my veins. “It works?”
She nodded, her smile beaming. “Hunter’s been collecting them. This one had the most variety of music. No Christmas songs though.” She shrugged. “Merry Christmas, you guys.”
Paul’s mocha skin softened around his eyes as he stared down at her, his love evident in the way his whole body seemed to gravitate toward her. She had that effect on people, her goodness and selfless energy a pillar of infectious strength. She was going to be a wonderful mother.
After we said our thank you’s and good-night’s, she patted her leg. “Come on, Darwin. Eddie made you dinner, too.”
With his tail swishing behind him, Darwin followed Shea and Paul into the hall.
Jesse shut the door and plugged the phone into the wall outlet near the table. As he swiped at the screen, Roark, Michio, and I dug into the hearty meal. There were no extra dishes, so we ate directly from the bowls with a mismatched collection of utensils.
A moment later, a familiar low-key riff of guitar chords strummed through the phone’s speaker. Wordlessly, the four of us sat on the bed, passing the bowls between us and listening to Nirvana’s “Come As You Are.”
How long had it been since I’d heard music? Five…six months? I’d left my music player and solar charger with the Lakota in the mountains, but it had been before that, long before the plague even, since I’d heard this song.
The grungy instrumentals vibrated through me, conjuring memories of my rebellious youth, when my biggest fear in life was my dad catching the scent of weed on my clothes.
My guardians appeared to be lost in their own memories. The dim glow of the overhead light illuminated their naked chests. Jesse and Michio wore sweatpants, their abdominal muscles rippling with the rise and fall of their breaths. Roark’s powerful calves were exposed beneath his athletic shorts, his legs stretche
d out beside me. As he reached for a forkful of meat from the bowl next to Jesse, his narrow waistline creased, accentuating the ridges of his eight-pack.
I swallowed down my arousal with a flavorful bite of lemon-peppered noodles. “This song makes me think of high school.”
Roark lay on his back and tucked a hand beneath his head, staring at the ceiling. “Same here.”
Made sense. He was thirty-five, like me.
I looked at Jesse, the youngest of my guardians at age thirty-one. “You were in elementary school when this song came out, right?”
“Yeah.” Jesse sat on the far end of the bed with his back against the wall, his leg bent, and an arm draped over his raised knee. “I was still on the Lakota reservation. My parents didn’t divorce until I was in high school.”
Which was when he left the reservation to move to Texas with his dad.
And now, there were no more Native American reservations. No more cultural prejudices for that matter. Some religions might have perpetuated, but there were so few people left, most faiths would likely be gone within a generation or two. Especially if Aiman’s programming succeeded in exterminating free will.
Sitting cross-legged beside me, Michio set his fork down, his gaze inwardly focused. Youthfulness etched his profile, from his wrinkle-free olive complexion and thick black hair to the symmetrical bone structure of his face and the hairless skin around his full lips. I wasn’t sure he could grow facial hair, which made him appear even younger. He could easily pass as twenty-something, yet he was the oldest of us at age thirty-nine.
I nudged his shoulder with mine. “A kiss for your thoughts?”
The corner of his mouth twitched, despite the pink rimming his soft brown eyes.
He leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to my lips. “I was thinking of Isabella. She loved this band.”
I gave him a gentle smile. Isabella had been his girlfriend through med school and years after…until the plague hit. He’d told me one night in the mountains that he’d been too focused on his work to marry her.
Reaching for his hand, I interlaced our fingers. “You look sad.”
He traced the skin between my knuckles. “I should’ve set her free to marry another before… It doesn’t matter now.”
I wished I would’ve told Joel I loved him more often. I wished I would’ve spent less time in the office and more time with Annie and Aaron. We all had regrets. It was easy to second guess every action with the clarity of hindsight.
Roark reached around Jesse and snatched the phone. He flipped through the screens, his thumb pausing and his eyebrows crawling up his forehead. “Dropkick Murphys? Now that’s the shot.”
As we finished eating and moved the empty bowls and water bottles to the table, the cacophony of upbeat drums, guitar, and bagpipes pounded through the room. Roark sang along, his gruff vocal melody a blend of punk, old Irish lilt, and sexy swagger.
I loved his accented voice and how his jade eyes glimmered when he sang. I loved the way his shorts stretched over his groin, the thin material highlighting the line of his long cock. I loved how hard his muscular thighs were, remembering the flex and press of them as they spread me open. A spasm clenched in my pussy, intensifying an endless ache.
Jesse and Michio moved the table near the door, and I sprawled on the bed beside Roark. He opened the Bushmills, drinking directly from the bottle as I scrolled through the music selection.
Social Distortion, My Chemical Romance, Pixies, The Cure… Wow, my finger hovered excitedly, unsure what to choose next. I paused on a cover song by Guns N’ Roses.
“Live and Let Die” was poignant, classic, and man oh man, I could sing my heart out to it. But would the lyrics be too much reality so soon after our discussions of fate and prophecy?
Screw it. I tapped play.
The sonic trill of the vocals warbled through the speaker, and a shudder shimmied over me. Ahhh, I really loved this song.
Roark jerked his head toward me. “You’re fecking morbid.” He set the bottle of whiskey on the floor and reached for the phone. “Give me that.”
I rolled to my stomach and buried it beneath me, unintentionally muffling the music in the blankets. “It’s a great song. I’ll sing it for you.”
A hand closed around my ankle, and I glanced over my shoulder as Jesse yanked me down the bed. I tightened my grip on the phone and belted the chorus, laughing.
“You’re acting the maggot, ye dirty cow.” Roark rolled me over and tried to pry the device from my hands. “And ye sing worse than Axl Rose.”
“Hey! I love Axl’s voice.” I sang louder and fought off his grabby hands, grinning defiantly.
Jesse crawled up my body and buried his face between my legs, his hot exhale soaking through the cotton of my shorts.
“Ohhh fuck.” My inner muscles clamped down and spread a burst of pleasure outward, quivering down my legs and shivering across my skin.
Out of the corner of my eye, Michio leaned against the wall, watching us from beneath hooded brows.
Roark plucked the phone from my hands, and the song switched back to Dropkick Murphys.
Jesse propped his chin on my mound, his expression full of satisfaction. “You’re too easy.”
I blew a lock of hair out of my face. “You play dirty.” Holding his gaze, I rolled my hips. “But since you’re down there…”
The phone landed somewhere above my head, and Roark’s mouth crashed down over mine. The plunge of his tongue sparked a pulsing fire between my legs. I bit at his lips, meeting his lashing kiss with the same urgency, my arms twining around his shoulders.
Jesse yanked my shorts off and pressed my knees to my shoulders, spreading my thighs and exposing me to his gaze. The cool air chilled the wetness of my arousal, but in the next pounding heartbeat, his hot mouth replaced the chill, his tongue laving at me hungrily.
The combined sensations of Roark’s tongue in my mouth and Jesse’s tongue in my pussy surged through me, consuming me. I slid my mouth away from Roark and reached my arm out, searching for Michio. But he was already there, his warm breaths coating my neck as his palm slid beneath my t-shirt.
My nipples hardened, and my hands wandered frantically, stroking heated muscle and grabbing hold of soft hair. I closed my eyes, marveling at how well I could differentiate them. Some of the variances were bold, like the whiskey taste of Roark’s mouth and the velvety-soft feel of Michio’s hairless face. But I could also identify the coarser texture of Jesse’s hair, the callouses on Roark’s fingers from the sword, and the exotic fragrance of Michio’s skin.
With my knees held against my shoulders by Roark and Michio, Roark caressed his mouth down my body, shoving my shirt to my neck as he went. Michio’s lips moved in, his kiss gentler, more cautious, one hand holding my knee near my face, the other framing my cheek.
I licked at his lips and sucked on his tongue, encouraging him. But he seemed to be holding back, suggesting his uncertainty about our foursome and all the shit from the past month lingered too close to his mind. I tried to keep his focus right here with us, moving my hands to the angular lines of his face and kissing him with every shred of love and desire I felt for him.
The path of Roark’s mouth momentarily distracted me as he bit at my breasts, nibbled down my belly, and joined Jesse at my opening.
My body sank into the mattress as need roughened my kisses and weighed down my limbs like a heady drug.
Michio pulled back and stared down my body, his heavy-lidded eyes taking in the view of Jesse and Roark fucking me with their mouths, their tongues sliding together and tangling inside me.
They dipped in and out, dragging soft, warm lips through my folds, their stubble abrading my inner thighs. I cried out, grinding against their mouths, my whole body reaching for them and my pussy constricting around their tongues, overstimulated and seeping with desire. It was unlike anything I'd ever felt.
I clutched at Michio’s strong neck and guided his lips back to mine. I needed to come. Fuck
, I was dying to release on their tongues. I rocked my hips while inhaling Michio’s breaths, tasting his mouth. Roark’s grunts and Jesse’s nibbling teeth made me hotter, wetter, more needful, and I whimpered against Michio’s mouth. Dammit, if one of them didn’t sink into me soon, I’d go crazy.
Michio pulled away. His rigid length tented his sweatpants, but the arousal I used to see so clearly in his eyes struggled to peek through the mounting clouds on his face.
Jesse licked and nuzzled, following my seam downward, toward my ass.
I held back the urge to bow my back, my attention on Michio. “What’s wrong?”
Roark pressed kisses over my mound and glanced up at Michio though his lashes. “Too much, lad? Too soon?”
I reached down and stroked Roark’s whiskered jaw, silently thanking him for his compassion.
Jesse moved his mouth to the back of my spread thigh, pressing a kiss there as he waited for Michio’s response.
Michio regarded them intently for a long moment. “Are you two…?” The sharp slash of his cheekbones were stark with discomfort. “I don’t care what you do. I’m just trying to understand your relationship.”
I didn’t fully understand it either, but I was hopeful. With my fate hovering over me, I wanted my guardians to love one another so much they would satisfy each other in every way. Because a bond between them was more likely to pull them through my death than one they might find in a fragilely new relationship with another woman.
Eventually, I would start planting seeds about the future, assuring them of my acceptance of them moving on with another woman or women or with each other in the same way Joel had done for me in the letter he’d left me. But right now, it was too early, the news of my pregnancy too raw. Right now, I simply wanted to show them how much I loved them.
Lifting up on an elbow, Jesse met Michio’s gaze with a challenging one. “We’re still trying to figure it out.”
