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The pleasure builds beyond anything I can control, so intense it borders on pain. My whole body shakes with it, and when it breaks, I cry out against Elias’s shoulder, my voice shattered. Nate doesn’t let up until I’m limp and trembling between them, breath coming in ragged pulls.

“Christ, Sugar…” Jace breathes from across the room. “That was fucking insane to watch.”

Nate rises slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before removing the toy and setting it aside. He leans in, his kiss slow and deep, tasting of me and him and something like possession.

“Remember this, Sola. We take care of each other. Everything you give, you get back tenfold.”

Elias’s arms are still around me, solid and sure. The words settle not in my mind but deeper—in my bones, in the aftershocks still humming under my skin.

The terrifying part isn’t what they just did to me.

It’s that I believe him.

twenty-one

Breach of Protocol

Sloane’s finally still.

Her breaths rise and fall softly against my chest, lips parted just enough for a faint hum to slip out. She’s curled into me without realizing it, anchoring herself to me even in sleep.

I don’t move. Not because I’m scared of waking her; God knows she needs the rest, but because I want this moment seared into me.

It's rare to see her without the armor. No sharp words, no measured smiles, no spine locked straight like she's bracing for impact. Just Sloane, comfortable enough to let her guard down.

That should scare me more than it does.

For years, it was only the three of us; Nate’s structure, Jace’s fire, my quiet. We built something solid and swore it was enough.

Then she walked in and found the empty space none of us knew was there.

I lower my mouth to the crown of her head and hold her tighter.

Whatever this becomes, I already know one thing: I won’t let anyone make her afraid of herself again.

Once I’m sure she’s completely out, I ease my arm from under her. She stirs once, and drifts again as I pull the blanket higher, tucking it around her shoulders before slipping out of the room.

The penthouse feels almost eerie after what just happened in the study. My body still hums with it, with her. Every nerve remembers the taste of her, the way she writhed in my lap, the way she trusted us enough to break.

I find them in the living room.

Jace is draped over the sofa like a discarded rag doll. His eyes are closed, but the set of his jaw tells me he’s not asleep.

Nate sits next to him, and he looks relaxed, like after our play sessions with Jace. Bastard could always compartmentalize like nobody’s business.

He registers me with a flick of the eyes. “She asleep?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. She’ll need it.” He’s holding a glass of his expensive bourbon, swirling it like he just solved the world’s problems with physics and brute force.

“Course she needed it.” Jace’s jaw flexes. “You two just wore her the fuck out.”

His voice carries a sharp edge I know too well. It’s the sound of something he doesn’t want to admit. I lean against the doorway, arms crossed.

“You good?”

“Peachy,” he bites back, eyes still closed.