Page 30 of Angel Lost (Fates Academy #3)

Chapter Thirty: Lorelei

I lower my head to the table with a thunk . This is impossible. Another whole week and nothing on Lottie. I loll my head sideways and watch Chano argue with Raff and Alairik as they’re hunched over a laptop. Without tuning in I know the conversation. He’s sure they’re missing something. Sure there’s a back door into his sister’s plans, a way to retrieve whatever she and her friends wiped from their computers. And Raff and Alairik are just as sure they’ve tried everything. And they all blame his tios for looking the other way, letting her leave.

Above them a giant picture of roaring dragons hangs in a gilded frame. The monstrosity takes up a whole wall in Farrell and Kai’s living area. Two years ago, there is no way in all the hells Chano would be here using Farrell’s rooms as headquarters. Even a year ago it wouldn’t have happened.

I sit up, my elbow knocking Kai’s tattoo kit, the boxes piled haphazardly over this end of the table. Farrell, sitting opposite me, twitches. A whole-body shudder. Like the untidy clutter is physically hurting him. Pressing my lips together, I pretend not to notice.

The front door creaks and we all look over. Hewie. Not Zephyr. I close my eyes for a beat, pinching the bridge of my nose. Not Zephyr. He’s avoiding me. Zephyr is avoiding me.

I glance at the ancient grandfather clock. I don’t want to go back to the Gifted Academy without speaking to him. And yet, at least there I’ve something to do, something productive. Here, we’re just rehashing old ground. I’ve looked at the same surveillance footage twenty times. At least. And I’ve still no idea where Lottie and her dumb friends went.

I’m itching to do a deep dive at the Gifted Academy. There’s something wrong. Something needling my gut. It’s turning me into a kooky conspiracy theorist. I draw my brows together, observing Kai out of the corner of my eye. He’s never mentioned there’s something wrong at the Gifted Academy. He peers into the giant mirror above the hearth, pulling a face. If there was something evil going on, he’d tell me, right? Not that he even told me he underwent correction therapy. He mutters into the mirror, glaring at his reflection, hands firmly in his back pockets. His reflection scowls back, flicking him the V. I shake my head. His hands are in his pockets…Oh, hell no. I’m way too tired. Not enough sleep. Kai leans forward and headbutts the glass, a giant crack splintering it into two huge shards. Farrell roars his anger, but Kai? Kai looks serene. Blood runs down his face and drips slowly onto the floor.

Maybe I shouldn’t base any decisions on Kai.

My gaze strays to the clock again.

“He won’t be back tonight. You may as well go,” Kai mutters, gliding past. “He’s got a new…plaything. Angel boy is too distracted to deal with the likes of us.”

Drumming my fingers on the table, it hits me. I was right. He’s off screwing some professor, or student. Annoyance prickles at me. He should be here with me. Supporting Chano.

Farrell’s hand clamps down on my fingers, and the contact sends a jolt of heat up my arm—a fire that has nothing to do with forgiveness. I barely have time to swallow the shock before he lifts me, depositing me in Chano’s lap with clinical precision. I search his face for a hint of absolution, but his unreadable expression says nothing.

“Nothing will change if you two take five minutes. Lottie isn’t going to get more lost, and the Gifted Academy will still be there,” he declares, herding the rest out of his dorm. His tone is flat, yet his eyes linger on me. Kai protests all the way down the corridor as they leave.

I squirm in Chano’s lap, glancing back into his face. We’ve not really been intimate. Not in a long time. Maybe he isn’t in the mood? Maybe…His dick pulses under my butt. Strong fingers knead my shoulders, and I lean back with a sigh. His breath hot on my neck sends shivers racing across my skin.

“We don’t have to take it all the way, chica.”

I nod. But the tight burning in my pussy says we do. He drops kisses slowly down my shoulder, down my arm. Then he palms my neck, tugging on my hair. My back arches and I gasp. Chano stands, letting me slip to the floor. One hand in the small of my back, he directs me to Farrell’s room, to Farrell’s bed, a glint in his eye that I haven’t seen in too long. He pushes me almost roughly onto the bed.

“Clothes off, chica. Now.” The low growl in his tone has my lower belly clenching, but when I look up, he’s finishing a text. With a feral grin he tosses the phone down, his shirt following it, then his pants.

“Too slow,” he says, his fingers playing over the buttons on my shirt. Quick as lightning, he rips my shirt open. Cool air hits my skin, and my nipples pebble. Chano maneuvers me onto the bed, climbing in beside me, pulling me into his chest.

The bedroom door clicks, and I freeze. Citrus. Pine.

Farrell.

Is he really going to…

Chano holds me tight against him, not allowing me to turn around, to look. The bed dips and Farrell slips in, spooning me, his dick hard against my inner thigh. I chew my lip, reaching for Chano, my fingers brushing his sculpted abs.

“Is this okay?” Farrell asks, his breath tickling the hairs on my neck. I nod, mute. His arms wrap around me, holding me against him, his heart beating wildly against my back .

My hand drifts lower on Chano’s chest, toying with the elastic on his boxers. He takes a sharp breath in, his stomach moving against my hand, then shifts, pressing a kiss to the crook of my neck, nipping the skin there.

My thoughts flounder. I should stop. I should think about this. We’re barely talking.

Farrell moves behind me again, and I arch into him, pushing back against his dick, need pooling between my legs. Farrell grunts, the sound muffled as he buries his face in the pillow. I trace my fingers under Chano’s boxers, down his cock.

“I can’t.” They both still. “I mean, I want to but…”

Farrell starts to move, to leave the bed, and I reach back, clamping a hand on his thigh. “Can we explore but not…I mean…no actual sex.”

Farrell relaxes under my grip. “We can pleasure you all night, princess.”

I nod, stroking Chano’s cock with more confidence, the hot skin smooth under my palm. He groans, putting his hands behind his head, leaning back. After a moment’s hesitation, Farrell palms the curve of my butt, my thigh, teases the edge of my panties. I stroke Chano harder. He’s holding back, letting Farrell touch me. The thought sets my heart beating faster. I reach out, tugging Chano’s wrist to my mouth, biting down. Iron-rich blood explodes in my mouth, and my body lights up. Chano groans, his cock pulsing. I rock against Farrell’s fingers, needing more than the teasing graze. He lifts my leg, resting it on his, leaving me open to him.

“Please.”

My body is on fire as he strokes my clit, dipping a finger inside me. Hell. Farrell kisses my neck between groans of his own. His fingers slide in and out of me and with each withdrawal I shiver. His thumb circles my clit, softly at first, then harder, hitting it just right. I can’t…It’s too much; the sensations, my clit, Farrell’s body behind me, Chano’s cock in my hand. I cry out, shaking with the climax.

My fingers loosen on Chano, and he covers my hand with his. We stroke together, his dick hardening, thickening. Behind me, Farrell shifts, his fingers sheathing my clit, picking up pace again. I reach behind with my other hand, tracing the tip of his dick, slick with precum. He shudders almost to a halt, barely touching me. I grip both men more firmly, catching the rhythm, working them together. Chano’s mouth finds mine, hot, needy, his tongue slipping inside, demanding. My pussy clenches, Farrell’s rhythmic pressure against my clit restarts, and my head swims with the sensations. His movements become stiff, his breaths short, and his dick pulses under my hand. A warmth sprays against my back. Something about him coming, fingers inside me, is too much. I tip my head back.

“Does it feel good, chica?” Chano says into my mouth. “Tell us it feels good.”

“It…” I gasp. “It feels good. Too good. Oh…fuck.”

Farrell plays with my G-spot, and my fingers reflexively tighten on Chano. The world explodes between my legs. I can’t think, I can’t breathe. Chano groans deep in his throat, hot cum splattering out onto my belly.

“You’re right, princess,” Farrell murmurs in my ear. “That was good.”

We fall asleep like that, in the middle of Farrell’s ridiculous dragon-size bed. It’s not until the small hours that we drag ourselves out of the covers to clean up, then snuggle down again. Curled around one another, limbs everywhere. Safe.