The moment he crossed a line, they were there. Surrounding me. Shielding me. Claiming the space around me like it was instinct, like it wasn’t even a choice. Like I mattered.
Something inside me pulls tight at the thought.
Lady Migina’s words drift back to me, unwelcome and sharp. A reminder that if they ever looked in my direction it was supposed to be something else entirely. That they were supposed to use me. That I was supposed to be… temporary. Convenient.
But that’s not what this is. I know it. Ifeelit.
The way they treat me doesn’t feel like use. It feels like something else. Something real.
I feel safe with them. Safe.
I can’t remember the last time I felt that way. Not truly. Not without looking over my shoulder, waiting for something to go wrong.
Not since my father died. And maybe even not then. Maybe the last time I saw safety in my world was before my mother died.
Which is so sad it could make me cry.
My throat tightens, and I stare down at the water, watching the ripples distort the firelight. With them… I don’t feel like I’m waiting for the next blow. I feel protected. Valued. Wanted. Eventhough there’s danger all around us, there’s never danger in our relationship. Never fear.
I don’t think they could hurt me even if they tried. Which is saying a lot about the hugely powerful fae kings. It has to be a conscious decision for them to be gentle around me at all times. Yet, it never seems hard for them. Just natural.
And somewhere along the way… I started caring about them just as much. The thought of leaving them behind after all of this feels wrong in a way I can’t explain. I don’t want that. I don’t want to lose this. To lose them. But I don’t know what this means. I’m human. They’re fae kings. Even if we survive this, even if we reach the end… what then? I think they said fae kings had shared a woman before, but that hadn’t gone well, right?
The questions don’t have answers. So I let them go, focusing on cleaning myself with the sweet scented soaps. Because right now… the future doesn’t matter. What matters is this. This strange, dangerous, impossible bond that’s formed between us. Even if it ends… I know I’ll carry it with me. I’ll carry them. Always.
The thought brings a quiet warmth that has nothing to do with the bath.
I close my eyes, letting it settle. Letting myself accept it.I think I love them. I think I want to be with them, all of them, even if it’s only for a little while.
When I finally step out of the bath and slip into the clothes laid out for me, I feel a strange mix of comfort and unease. The fabric is soft, warm, far too luxurious for the labyrinth. It clings in a way that makes me feel… different. Almost delicate.
I glance toward the door, my pulse picking up slightly.They’ll be here soon. All of them.
The memory of the hallway flashes through my mind. Of Sylvian’s gentle kiss, Ashton’s reckless one, the way Oberoncouldn’t quite find the words, the way Cassius touched my face like I mattered.
A nervous heat spreads through me, strange and new, unexpected and unfamiliar. I’m nervous. But not afraid. Not really. If anything… there’s something else there too. Something softer. Something curious.
What would it be like to be with them when their kisses and touches light me on fire? Would it be too much for me? I heard it hurts, but I can’t imagine them hurting me.
I sit on the edge of the bed, fingers twisting lightly in the fabric at my knees, my thoughts drifting despite myself. If something happens. If things change between us.
My heart stutters at the thought. I don’t know what it would mean. I don’t know what comes after. But I do know this… there isn’t a version of that where I regret it.
Not with them.
Not like this.
A slow breath leaves me as I glance toward the door again, waiting. Whatever tonight becomes… I have a feeling I’ll never forget it.
8
Ashton
The fabric is too soft. That’s the first thing I notice. Not in a bad way. Just noticing how wrong it feels. After so long with tight leather clothes, damp air, blood, dirt, and whatever the hell else the labyrinth decided to throw at us, this feels like stepping into someone else’s life. Someone who hasn’t fought for every breath lately.
Which is ironic, considering this used to be my life.
Before the labyrinth, luxury was normal. Silk sheets. Warm rooms. Perfect meals handed to me without a second thought. I spent centuries surrounded by comfort so constant I stopped seeing it. But now? Now every polished surface feels strange. Every soft thing feels borrowed. Like the labyrinth peeled something out of me and left behind someone sharper than the man who entered it.