Page 127

I went with an easy question. “Who cut your hair?”

Jesse gestured between them, and Roark stared at the floor, a smile pulling at his lips.

Cutting hair involved touching, fingers trailing over scalps, showing one another attention. Maybe even affection. They had taken care of each other, and I’d missed the pleasure in witnessing that. “What other bonding moments did I miss? Any more kissing?”

Roark crawled up the bed, carrying a grin tucked in the corner of his mouth, and stretched out on my other side. “Why do ye think I shaved?” He rubbed his hairless chin over my cheek and pointed that grin at Jesse. “He prefers me smooth.”

I expected a fist to come flying at his face, but Jesse simply reclined against the headboard and folded his hands on his chest, smiling and shaking his head. Roark might’ve been taunting him, but there was definitely an easy comfort between them. Fuck, I loved that.

And of course, I couldn’t let it drop. “Two weeks together…” When Jesse met my eyes, I nudged his leg with mine. “You thought about that kiss.”

He didn’t move, didn’t let go of his smile as he watched me from beneath heavy eyelids. “I thought about kissing you, and you weren’t in a position to stop me.”

Like I would ever stop him. “I really don’t know how you resisted between all the seizures and bloody vomit.”

His smile fell, and he rolled against me, burying his face in my neck. “Damn, it’s fucking good to have you back, darlin’.”

I held him to my chest, combing my fingers through his hair. Roark curled against my other side, and I wrapped my arm behind his shoulders, hugging both of them to me, as my mind drifted with the steady beats of their hearts. Here, in the complacency of fresh sheets and haircuts, without the aroma of body odor, the sight of weapons, or the hungry buzz of aphids gnawing at my stomach, it was easy to imagine the plague had never happened.

Outside the windows, the sky faded down into darkness, yet we easily saw one another beneath the light of a bulb. I wanted to believe that bulb meant something, that it symbolized a turning point in our struggle, that life would get easier, that a bright and shiny future was already in motion.

But we wouldn’t have had electric light without the aid of a generator. And if I checked the mattress, the packs on the floor, and the clothes they wore, I’d find an arsenal of weapons. Shea, Paul, and Eddie weren’t sitting downstairs watching reruns and eating ice cream. They were holding their blades and arrows close, tense in their vigilance, guarding the house.

“I’m glad I’m here, with both of you, but I wish here was ten years from now.” I drew a breath, my chest rising beneath Jesse’s weight. “I wish here included Michio.”

Roark parted his lips to say something, but instead, he grabbed hold of my face, pulled me from Jesse’s embrace, and buried his tongue in my mouth. My senses flooded with an incredible taste of oak, chocolate, and whiskey, the eclectic medley exuding a sharpness and vitality that worked so well together, combined with the comforting scent of his skin. These tastes and smells were the signatures of my priest.

As he stretched my mouth open with his, I expected urgency and heat and weeks of pent-up need to come barreling down on me, but he didn't give me that.

He slowed down, drawing his tongue over my lips, not to arouse but to soothe. The velvety skin of his hairless face slid against mine, warming my nerve-endings, and his hands on my jaw didn’t force. They supported.

The gentle glide of his mouth told me he missed me, that he’d been worried, and the parting bite of his teeth punctuated his words. “I’ve died a million deaths since I’ve met ye, but all it takes is your kiss to remind me why I’m still breathing.”

I reached for his face only to be guided away by the grip of Jesse’s hand on my neck. He gave me a burning flash of copper eyes right before he kissed me, the press of his mouth rougher than Roark’s, more intense in its message. His tongue lashed and whipped, scolding me for scaring him, warning me not to do it again.

He pushed my back against the mattress as he forced himself deeper inside my mouth, his groin grinding against my thigh, ensuring I felt the hard length of him as he sucked and ate at my mouth.

I wrestled with the sudden swell of arousal, the desperation inside me throbbing to be stroked and filled. But my body was weak, and their cocks wouldn’t magically mend me.

Jesse knew this, too, but he was reluctant to pull away, his groan vibrating through me as he tore his mouth from mine. He leaned back, breathing heavily, his eyes on Roark. They exchanged a look, a shared mélange of misery and relief, and turned their gazes back to me.