Page 26

VIOLET

I had no idea what the surprise could be. Mei had assured me what was waiting for me was a sex marathon, and while I’d considered the idea for a moment, I doubted it would really be that. We hadn’t done anything ever since the motel.

Following them through the halls of the Coven’s dorms, I looked at them, searching for hints that could reveal what I was getting myself into. While I trusted them with my life, I wasn’t exactly known for my patience when it came to things being deliberately kept from me.

I’d tried prying information out of them, but all I got in return were cryptic responses and barely concealed amusement.

Quinn had simply offered me one of his knowing smiles and murmured, “Patience, love.”

Nicholas had scowled, unimpressed by my pestering, and shoved his hands in his pockets before grunting, "Just shut up and take the damn surprise."

And Kenji hadn’t said a word, only gave me a glance so unreadable it made my stomach twist.

"Okay, seriously" I said, coming to a halt just outside the door of their living unit. "Are you planning to murder me? Because this is feeling very much like a setup."

Quinn let out an exaggerated gasp, clutching his chest like I had wounded him. "Oh, love. How hurtful . After everything we’ve done for you—”

But before he could finish the sentence, Nicholas huffed, shoved the door open…

And suddenly, the world was filled with color.

Confetti rained from up above, catching the dim glow of the overhead lights, fluttering in slow, chaotic spirals to the floor. A massive, hand-painted banner stretched across the far wall, the words YOU ACTUALLY DID IT! bold and uneven, as if they had argued over who had the steadiest hand while making it. A small cake sat on the center of the coffee table, surrounded by a sea of snacks and drinks.

I blinked, my brain struggling to catch up with what my eyes were seeing.

“What,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, “the hell is this?”

Kenji stepped past me, slow and deliberate, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. His face was composed as ever, but there was something else beneath the stillness, something that reminded me of smugness.

“A celebration” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Isn’t that obvious? Should we have your sight checked?”

Asshole. I kept it to myself just because I was still in awe.

Nicholas propped himself against the couch's armrest, tilting his head at me, his scowl softer than usual. "You defended yourself" he stated simply, as if that was all the explanation I needed. "Without our help."

I felt my breath catch in my throat, fingers curling into my palms as the reality of what they were saying started to settle in.

Quinn flashed me that familiar, devastatingly charming smile, one that carried something deeper this time—something proud, fond. “And that, love, is worth celebrating.”

I didn’t move. I didn’t speak.

I’d forgotten how.

I had never been celebrated for any of my accomplishments.

Not for surviving my childhood, not for clawing my way out of the wreckage of my past, not for enduring years of silence and fear and suffering without breaking apart completely.

And certainly not for fighting back.

Something inside me cracked wide open, and for a long moment, I couldn’t breathe.

“I—” My voice wobbled, so I swallowed hard, but it did nothing to steady the overwhelming wave of emotion threatening to overthrow me. “I don’t—”

Nicholas rolled his eyes and pushed himself off the armrest. “Just say thank you and take the fucking cake.”

Quinn pressed a glass into my trembling hands, his fingers brushing against mine for just a second longer than necessary, grounding me, tethering me back to reality. “Or don’t say anything at all” he murmured, his voice quieter now. “Just enjoy it.”

I looked down at the drink in my hands, then at the mess of confetti at my feet, at the banner hanging crookedly across the room, at them.

My boys.

My infuriating, overprotective, impossible boys.

I let out a slow, uneven breath, and with the last ounce of composure I had left, I lifted the glass in a toast.

“To kicking ass” I whispered.

Nicholas smirked. Quinn flashed the widest smile. And Kenji, still watching me with that quiet, unreadable expression, let the smallest hint of a grin tug at the corner of his mouth before lifting his own glass.

“To kicking ass” they echoed, their glasses clinking against mine.

And for the first time in forever, I let myself have this. I let myself enjoy it.

Because they were right.

This was worth celebrating.

???

The celebration had left a warm feeling in my chest that refused to fade, lingering long after the last bite of the cake had been eaten, after Quinn had draped an arm around my shoulders and Nicholas had pulled my legs over his lap, while Kenji sat on the floor by the couch and held my hand like he couldn’t stay away from me not even for the length of a film.

But as the laughter settled and the quiet stretched between us, I sensed something else brewing, something just beneath the surface. My boys shared a glance, and suddenly, I knew.

There was more.

Kenji was the first to speak, voice low and controlled, yet carrying an edge of something softer. “There’s one last thing.”

I blinked, sitting up a little straighter. "You mean besides the cake, the confetti, and the banner that looks like it was painted by three drunk toddlers? Sorry, guys, I love you, but what happened with that?"

Quinn let out a laugh, his dimples flashing. "Ask Nicki."

Nicholas clicked his tongue. “It wasn’t my fault, stop fucking harassing me.”

“Come with us” Kenji chimed in, cutting through their usual banter.

The shift in tone sent a ripple of anticipation down my spine. I stood, feeling my pulse quicken as they led me down the hall toward the door of the room that had once been mine. That reminded me I needed to ask them about moving back in with them. Later, I decided.

Kenji glanced at me, then reached for the handle, pushing it open.

I blinked, my breath catching

.

The bed was adorned with light blue sheets and fluffy pillows. Bookshelves lined the walls, half-filled, waiting for me to finish the job. An armchair sat in the corner, and a basket of yarn was placed on it.

I took a slow, unsteady step inside, fingers brushing the edge of the desk. My hands trembled as I turned back to face them.

Quinn smiled, slow and sweet, eyes brimming with something that made my stomach twist. “You can keep the other room, of course, if that’s what you want” he murmured, leaning against the doorway. “But this?” He gestured to the space around us, voice dipping to something almost reverent. “This is yours, too. Always.”

Nicholas scoffed, crossing his arms, but his expression was less guarded than usual. “It’d be a damn waste if you didn’t use it.”

“You should always have a place to return to” Kenji concluded, letting his gaze drift over me.

A home.

A home with them.

Something inside me cracked apart at the realization, and before I could stop myself, I let out a quiet, breathless laugh. “You did this for me?”

Nicholas rolled his eyes. “No, we did it for the Queen of England. Yes, it’s for you.”

Quinn chuckled, reaching for my hand, his fingers warm and steady against mine. “You should know by now, love,” he murmured, voice brushing against my skin like silk, “we’d do anything for you.”

And that was when I felt it—the tightness in my throat, the way my chest ached like I was on the verge of something dangerous, something devastating.

It was easy to imagine myself walking through this door after a long day, knowing they’d be so close. To imagine falling asleep in that massive bed, at times with all three of them. To imagine waking up to the weight of their arms draped over me, their warmth seeping into my skin, their presence a permanent thing rather than something fleeting.

So, so easy.

And perhaps that was why my mind started slipping in another direction, why my fingers curled around Quinn’s just a little tighter, why my gaze flickered to Nicholas’s mouth as I remembered how it had felt as it bit my throat, why the quiet, unreadable intensity in Kenji’s stare made something twist in my belly.

I let my tongue dart out, just enough to wet my lips; a small, subtle motion, but I knew they noticed.

Quinn’s grip on my hand tightened.

Nicholas’s nostrils flared.

Kenji’s gaze darkened, sharp as a blade.

My pulse quickened, heat coiling low in my stomach. They'd been nothing but respectful in the past days, as if I were observing a mourning period, and I wondered if I could push them just a little. Just a tiny bit. I felt better now, and I'd missed them.

Tilting my head slightly, I let my voice drop, slow and teasing. "I have to admit" I murmured, stepping closer to Quinn, just enough that my chest brushed against his. "I'm feeling very grateful about what you did for me."

His lips parted, his breath hitching just slightly, and—god, that reaction, that tiny reaction was enough to make me press a little more, to lean in just enough that I felt the warmth of his skin through his shirt.

Nicholas let out a low, warning sound.

I turned my head toward him, dragging my gaze over his frame, deliberately slow, deliberately provocative. "And you know," I mused, letting my fingers trail lightly over the edge of the desk, "this room is too pretty not to inaugurate it the right way."

Silence.

Thick, heavy, electric silence.

Was I overdoing it? Was it too much? But it seemed like they wouldn't take the lead anymore, and I had to do something to show them it was okay, that I wouldn't fall apart.

“Violet.” Kenji’s voice was low and edged with warning.

I turned to him, my heart pounding, my lips curving just slightly. “Yes?”

His jaw tightened. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

I tilted my head, feigning innocence. “Who says I can’t finish?”

Another pause.

A shift in the air, in the way their bodies angled toward me, in the way Nicholas’s fingers flexed, in the way Quinn’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.

I had them.

And god, I wanted them.

“Careful, love” Quinn murmured, but his voice was thick now, low and warm like honey. “We might take this challenge seriously.”

Nicholas exhaled sharply through his nose. “You’re begging for trouble.”

Kenji? Kenji just watched me like he was already deciding what he was going to do to me once I crossed the invisible line between teasing and begging.

And maybe I was begging.

Maybe I wanted to.

Maybe I needed to.

I stepped back toward the bed, slow and deliberate, my heart hammering against my ribs, my skin already burning with anticipation.

I smiled.

“Maybe trouble,” I murmured, “is exactly what I want.”