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Wicker’s stunned eyes take me in, but it’s only when he says, “Goddamn, bro, you’re still going?” that I realize his finger is still inside, feeling Pace pulsate as he pumps into me, wave after wave.

Pace releases a shuddering breath, his palm curling around my forehead to press me closer. “Get her plug,” he grunts, shoving his hips into mine. “Top drawer, on the right.”

Wicker looks flushed and lewd as he eases his finger free, twisting to wrench open the drawer of the nightstand. He returns with it, all golden and gleaming, and I can barely understand the way something in my chest eases at the mere sight of it.

“That’s right,” Pace whispers into my temple, brushing a kiss there. “Gonna let you keep it today.”

But it’s Wicker who rises, nudging my knee into my chest so he can get a good angle to watch as Pace slowly eases out of me. I feel the growing, gnawing absence, unable to help the way my body clutches at him.

“Shh,” Pace soothes, asking his brother, “Ready?” At Wicker’s nod, Pace warns, “Don’t let her lose any,” and then drags his cock away.

Whatever Wicker sees makes him spit a low curse, jerking forward. His bicep flexes as he forces it into me. “Fuck,” he breathes, fiddling with the base. “She’s really going to hold that in all day?”

Pace grabs my chin, turning my dazed eyes onto his. “Are you?”

I give a heavy blink. “If you ask me to.”

His kiss is slow and achingly sensual, a palm coming down to push against my inflated belly. The pressure makes me whimper. “All day,” he affirms.

I’m given a reprieve from the two of them when their alarms go off, signaling a morning workout. I lie back in the bed, feeling both strung out and full, the image of the two of them seared in my mind.

My goal has been to drive a wedge between them, but if what I just witnessed is the depth of their bond, there’s no way I can break it. But the way it felt between us opens up another possibility, one that's more and more inviting.

Maybe I don’t need to break them apart, but instead, figure out a way to tie us all together.

* * *

One reasonI kept asking Wicker about the seeds is because I wanted to know the best place to plant them. There was a small card on the inside of the bag, advising optimal growth conditions—medium sunlight, perennials—but for the solarium, I need more than that, like how much room does it need? How much space for the roots to dig into the soil and latch on? Would it crowd out the rhododendrons? Or creep along the ground? Putting together a garden is like snapping together the pieces of a puzzle, all the different cutouts and shapes needing to align symbiotically.

“What do you think about over here?” I ask, looking at a patch of dirt that I’ve cleared and cultivated. The soil is dark brown, and it’s ready for planting. “Or should I get closer to the begonias?”

“Just fuck me already!”

Effie’s voice—my voice—echoes off the high glass ceilings. No matter how many times I hear it, I still find it startling.

“We talked about this.” Eyes narrowing, I walk over to her cage. “If you want to stay down here with me, you have to be nice.”

She bobs her little head.“Effie’s a good girl…”

I can’t help but squirm at her version of Pace’s voice. It’s easy to imagine him saying that to her because he says it to me often enough.

That’s my good girl…

Clearing my throat, I nod. “That’s right, a good girl who isn’t going to tell her daddy I let her come down here, right?”

Since the break-in, Pace has been keeping Effie in my room. It’s almost like he feels better having us together, his two prized possessions rounded up in one place; easier to protect. His paranoia is almost visceral, and although it may sound crazy, I think his energy affects her energy. She’s been restless all day, rattling her cage and ruffling her feathers.

I’m not the only one who feels trapped and stir-crazy inside the palace walls.

Earlier, as I pulled on my gardening clothes, I found myself sympathizing with her. I’ve told Pace before that I thought it was wrong to keep her in the stuffy upstairs bedrooms while there’s a perfectly safe place for her to explore. It’s not exactly fresh air, but it’sfresherthan being cooped up in the house. The solarium keeps me sane while I’m at the palace.

And right now, she’sbaskingin it, wings extended as her head jerks around, eyes taking everything in. She hops from one perch to another, then back again, emitting sounds I’ve never heard before. Trilling, musical,happysounds.

“Pretty bird!” she exclaims in a thin imitation of Pace’s voice, hopping to her other perch. “I’ll tell you anything!” I’m not sure exactly whose voice that is, but afraid the sentiment is a plea, I frown.

“I’d let you spread your wings, but your daddy would absolutely lose his shit,” I say, sticking my finger through the bars and rubbing her head. “Maybe next time.”

I wait for her to mimic me, but she just bobs her head in agreement, fluttering wildly to the other side of the cage.