Finally, as the meal begins to wind down, Lord Ferngull signals the end of the evening. “It has been an absolute pleasure sharing this evening with you all,” he says, rising from his seat with a gracious smile. “But the hour grows late. My servants will ensure you have everything you require.”
We thank him politely, though the gratitude feels a bit hollow.
As we make our way to my room, the storm outside seems to rage harder, lightning illuminating the hall in brief, startling flashes that draw gasps from us all. The guys form a protective circle around me, their footsteps firm against the marble floor.
When we reach my door, Oberon steps ahead, his hand hovering over the handle, a guardian in every sense. “Wait here,” he says, his voice firm, and the authority in his tone brooks no argument. He pushes the door open, scanning the room carefully before stepping aside to let me in.
The room is just as warm as it was the night before, the fire already lit, casting a soft golden glow across the space.Somehow, even though this room is in the labyrinth, it’s starting to feel safe here. Almost homey.
Oberon nods once, satisfied, though the tension in him doesn’t fully ease. “We won’t be gone long.”
I blink. “What?”
Cassius glances at me, expression calm. “We’ll change and return. As always, keeping one of us to guard your door at all times.”
Ashton’s mouth curves slightly, softer than usual. “Wouldn’t want to ruin the atmosphere by sleeping in formal clothes.”
Something about the way he says it makes warmth creep up my neck.
“We’ll be back,” Sylvian adds, his tone gentler.
Then they’re gone.
The door closes behind them, and suddenly the room feels too quiet. I stand there, staring at the space they just occupied, before forcing myself to move.Right. Change.
I cross to the wardrobe, pulling out the nightgown and robe inside. The fabric is soft, lighter than the dress, easier to breathe in. I change quickly, though my fingers fumble more than once, my thoughts refusing to settle.
By the time I tie the robe closed, my heart is already racing again. I sit on the edge of the bed, staring at the fire. Trying not to think. Failing completely.
Last night, I hadn’t slept right away. Not with all of them there. Not with the sound of their breathing surrounding me, steady and… distracting. I’d laid there, staring at the ceiling, listening to them shift, to the quiet rise and fall of their chests, acutely aware of how close they were.
Too aware.
And there had been moments, small ones, when it felt like they were just as aware ofme. Like the space between thefloor and the bed wasn’t quite enough. Like they were holding something back.
My pulse stutters.Like they wanted me.
I draw my knees up slightly, wrapping my arms around them as my thoughts drift somewhere dangerous again.Would anything happen tonight?The question lands harder than I expect.Is there any reason why something shouldn’t happen?
I should be focused on surviving. On the labyrinth. On everything waiting for us when the storm finally ends. Instead, I’m wondering what it would feel like if they didn’t stop touching me. If one of them crossed the space that’s been between us and just… made me feel alive.
Or ifallof them did.
Heat floods through me, and I press my lips together, shaking my head slightly. I’ve never even been with one man. And now I’m sitting here, thinking about being with four.Gods.
My face burns. This is insane. All of it.And yet…
A quiet, traitorous thought slips in anyway.This opportunity may not be here forever. What if they change their minds about loving me? What if what they said was just because of the way the labyrinth is making them feel?
They’ll return home and realize it was a mistake. That they don’t actually don’t love me.
A hollow ache opens deep inside me. I don’t want that. I don’t want them to take it back. But if they do…
I go still, breath stalling in my chest.Would I regret not being with them? Not touching them? Not having them inside me?
I stop the thought there, my heart pounding.Even one night…The idea lingers, soft but insistent.
I exhale slowly, pressing my hands to my face. I don’t even know how I’d handle it. Where I’d start. What I’d do. But the thought doesn’t scare me as much as I think it should.