“It’s not,” Cyrus assures her, his thumb stroking her knuckles. “At least, we hope not.”
Under the table, my free hand finds Cyrus’s without conscious thought—our lifelong connection activated in moments of vulnerability. Our fingers interlock, and I feel his pulse racing against mine.
“We don’t just want you for the year,” I say, watching her eyes widen slightly. “The Hunt contract... It’s not enough.”
Cyrus squeezes my hand, continuing where I left off. “We want you with us, Keira. Not for a year. Forever.”
“We love you,” I add, the words foreign yet perfect on my tongue. “Both of us. In ways we didn’t think possible.”
Keira’s gaze drops to where our hands are joined beneath the translucent glass top. Her teeth catch her lower lip, the gesture sending heat through my blood despite the gravity of the moment. I wonder if she’s thinking about her fantasy—if seeing us touch still affects her the way she once confessed.
“You’re the first person we’ve ever wanted to keep,” Cyrus says. “The first person who’s ever truly seen all of us and stayed.”
“I need to hear what you’re thinking,” I say, the control I pride myself on fracturing under her silence.
Her eyes lift to mine, then Cyrus’s, that mesmerizing violet-blue holding secrets I still haven’t decoded.
Keira’s eyes fill with an emotion I can’t immediately identify. Her lips part slightly, and for a terrible moment, I wonder if we’ve miscalculated.
“I want that too,” she whispers. “I’ve been afraid to hope for it.”
The tension coiled tight in my chest releases, giving way to such warm relief. Beside me, I feel Cyrus’s grip on my hand tighten beneath the table.
“We love you, Keira,” Cyrus says, the words clear and deliberate in the candlelit space between us. “Not just for what you give us or how you make us feel. We love who you are—all of you.”
“Every part,” I add, finding my voice. “The dancer. The survivor. The woman who faced her demons in that basement in Idaho. We love you in ways we never thought possible.”
A single tear escapes, tracking down her cheek. In our world, tears signal weakness, a vulnerability to exploit. But hers—hers I want to preserve, to protect.
“I love you both too,” she says, her voice steady despite the emotion shining in her eyes. “So much it terrifies me sometimes.”
Her gaze drops to where our hands remain joined beneath the table, then lifts again. “I’ve never belonged anywhere. To anyone. Not really. But with you two...”
“With us?” I prompt, needing to hear her complete the thought.
“With you, I’m home,” she says. “I love you both. So much.”
Keira rises from her chair and comes to me first, her hands framing my face as she leans down. Her lips find mine, soft and searching, then more insistent. I taste wine on her tongue as she deepens the kiss, threading her fingers through my hair with a gentle pull that makes my blood rush south.
She breaks away, her eyes holding mine for a moment before she turns to Cyrus. I watch as she claims his mouth with equal fervor, her body angling toward his as he pulls her onto his lap. His large hands span her waist, guiding her movements as she grinds against him.
I love watching them together. She is ours. We are hers. The boundaries between us three continue to blur with every passing day.
“I want you,” she breathes against Cyrus’s mouth. “Both of you.”
The dinner table is forgotten as I stand, pulling Keira from Cyrus’s lap. We move as one toward the living room, not bothering with the bedroom—it’s too far. My hands find the zipper of her dress, sliding it down while Cyrus’s mouth traces her newly exposed skin.
Her dress pools at her feet, leaving her in nothing but black lace underwear. I pull her back against my chest, my hands cupping her breasts as Cyrus kneels before her. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of her panties, dragging them down her thighs with deliberate slowness.
Keira turns in my arms, her fingers working deftly at my belt buckle while Cyrus’s mouth disappears between her cheeks. Herbreath hitches against my neck, her movements faltering as his tongue makes contact.
“Don’t stop,” I command, guiding her hands back to my zipper.
She withdraws my cock, sinking to her knees before me while Cyrus adjusts position to continue his ministrations from behind. The sight of her looking up at me—pupils blown wide with desire, lips parted—nearly undoes me.
When her mouth envelops me, hot and wet and perfect, I groan. Cyrus meets my gaze, his eyes dark with shared hunger as his tongue works between her thighs. Keira moans around my length.
We love her.