Page 35 of The Shattered Kingdom (The Cursed Kingdom #2)

ABBY

KIE STARES DOWN at me. His gaze is intense and heavy—a weighted vest. I resist the urge to shrink into myself as I tighten my grip on his bicep.

Say something, Abby. Anything.

“I—” I start.

I don’t know what to say. I’m not so mad anymore.

They regret how they treated me, and while I have every right to hold it over their heads for the rest of our lives, I don’t want to.

Being angry is hard work, and it’s exhausting.

I’m denying myself mates, something I really do want, and it’s making us all miserable.

At this point, I’m punishing myself just as much as I’m punishing them.

They’ve earned a second chance.

I’m not in love with either of them, but they deserve the opportunity to earn my love.

Kie sucks his lips into his mouth, his patience waning. I suspect he knows what I want to say, but he isn’t going to help me get the words out. I almost wish he would. It would make this easier.

My attention shifts to Mason. He’s still showering, his head bowed as he scrubs the remnants of sex off himself. I’m sure he’s listening to me and Kie, though. He’s always listening.

“I—” I start again.

I fall short, and Kie pulls his arm out of my hand. He’s not rough, but I feel like I’ve been slapped as he walks out of the room, continuing as if I hadn’t stopped him.

Mason finishes showering, and he avoids eye contact as he dries off and wraps a towel around himself. Then he walks out of the room, leaving me alone. I drag my fingers through my hair, tugging on the strands as I swallow a frustrated scream.

I’m making this more complicated than it needs to be.

I hurry to shower, hoping it will clear my mind. It doesn’t work, not that I honestly expected it to. I’m just as tongue-tied when I return to Mason’s bedroom, if not more.

Two mattresses have been dragged into the room. They’re squished next to one another, and Kie and Mason are lounging on them. They take turns flipping through a stack of papers, the pair looking more like two best friends preparing for a sleepover than two royals.

The sight warms my heart.

“You can have Mason’s bed,” Kie says.

Mason looks up as I pull open his wardrobe and dig out some clothing, his narrowed, green eyes following my every move. It’s not helping my nerves, and I do my best to ignore it as I organize my thoughts.

I need to address what was said. No more avoiding it.

“I would like you two to meet my family,” I start. “You offered once to bring them here, and I think that would be best. They must be worried sick about me, and they’ll want to meet the men I’m in a relationship with.”

They might not want to stay, but they’ll at least want to visit. They’ll want to see that I’m healthy and safe. Most importantly, they’ll want to see that I’m not dead.

Kie finally looks up.

I continue. “Mates don’t exist in the human realm, and it’s not considered appropriate for a woman to be in a relationship with multiple men, or vice versa. You should probably know that going into this.”

Mason quirks a brow. “ Are we in a relationship, Abby?”

“Yes.” I bob my head. “Yes. I believe we are.”

Mason taps his fingers against the papers he’s flipping through, and he exchanges a silent look with Kie before handing the faerie the stack and rising. I hold my breath, afraid the slightest movement will ruin things.

Mason continues forward, not stopping until I’m pinned between him and his wardrobe. My heart is pounding with hard, rhythmic thumps that block out my loudest thoughts.

I’m sweating. “I want this,” I blurt out. My eyes dart toward Kie. “I want you both.”

“You already have us,” Kie says.

Mason tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “We want to have you, too. Do you want that?”

I’m going to vomit. “Yes.”

Mason blinks down at me. It feels like he’s reading into my soul, and I don’t like it. I’m scared to give either of them access to my emotions, to my heart. I’m terrified of the power it gives them.

But I’ve made my decision.

I want to let them in—even if the thought is petrifying.

Kie finally rises from the floor, and my gaze darts between his approaching form and Mason’s. The shifter glides to the side as Kie nears, making room for both men to trap me against the wardrobe.

This would’ve terrified me once, but now my heart is pounding for an entirely different reason .

“Are you certain?” Kie asks. “Mason and I aren’t perfect, and we’ve made plenty of mistakes with you. Don’t tell us we have you if you aren’t certain. We’ll wait as long as it takes until you are.”

Fingers graze the back of my hand. I’m not sure which man they belong to, and I highly doubt I’ll ever get used to the energy that vibrates between us.

“I don’t want to be afraid of disagreeing with you,” Kie continues.

“I don’t want to live life afraid of your anger, terrified if I say the wrong thing, you’ll pull away with the excuse that you never truly forgave us in the first place.

I don’t want to feel like a monster for the rest of my life.

I can’t erase our history, I know I can’t, but I—"

“I don’t think you’re a monster,” I interrupt. I mean it, too. They made terrible decisions, but I don’t think either of them is anything close to monstrous. “And I know what I’m agreeing to.”

Mason isn’t saying anything, and he sucks in a long, shaky breath before stepping away and stacking the spare mattresses on top of one another. Then he kicks them aside, and he makes sure I’m looking at him as he slides into his bed.

The message is loud and clear. I’ll share the bed with him and Kie tonight, and probably every night thereafter.

It’s intimate. Sex is one thing, especially when I know how much of it they’ve had in their lifetimes, but cuddling is different. Cuddling is meaningful to the faeries, and to the shifters. It means touching. It means hope.

Kie nudges me forward. “Go.”

I take only one step before pausing. Kie’s words from earlier today need to be addressed.

I make eye contact with Mason. “Do you expect me to touch your asshole?” Mason blinks. I gesture toward Kie. “Kie said you need to ready your asshole for me. ”

Silence. Nothing but awkward, painful silence. It’s broken by a sharp intake of breath, then a cackling laugh from Kie. It comes from deep in his belly, and my face immediately turns a thousand shades of red.

Mason doesn’t justify my question with a response. His stare is full of judgment, though, as he pulls back the sheet covers and gestures for me to join him in bed.

Kie continues snickering, clearly proud of himself. I want to be annoyed, but the emotion is impossible to find. This is my first time hearing Kie’s genuine, unrestrained laughter, and something sweet pours through my veins as I climb into bed with Mason.

The sheets are already warm. I enjoy it, and I preemptively tug off my clothes and toss them onto the floor. I’m going to be hot, especially if Kie joins us. I assume he will.

Once he’s done laughing at his bad joke.

Mason wraps an arm around my waist and pulls my back flush against his chest. He’s wearing only his underwear, and so much of our skin is touching. I refuse to let myself overthink it as I relax against him.

“I would die for you,” Mason whispers, “but you’re not welcome to touch my asshole. I will push you to the ground if you try.”

Kie’s shoulders are shaking with the force of his snickers. They’re practically giggles. My big, royal faerie mate is giggling because I fell for a joke about Mason liking ass-play.

“That’s enough,” Mason eventually says.

I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, chewing at the skin as Kie finally joins us in bed. He traps me between him and Mason, and I take this time to admire him. I’ve always found Kie beautiful.

Faeries have dainty features—pointed noses, high cheekbones, and big eyes. Kie is no different, but nothing about him screams delicate. I touch his jaw, sliding my fingers across his stubble. Despite everything, I don’t regret our bond.

Mason buries his face in my hair at the back of my neck.

“You smell like me. At this rate, we won’t be able to hide your connection to us.

We’re with you every minute of every day, you’re living in our home, and you smell of us.

” He adjusts, his lips brushing against my shoulder.

“We smell like you, too. It’s going to draw attention. ”

Anox suggested earlier that Kie and Mason announce that I’m their mate. He said they can rush my coronation. They can make me a queen consort.

I don’t know how to feel about that. It’s so much, so soon.

I clear my throat, wanting to change the topic. “Once people know who we are to one another, will you stop wearing your gloves?”

“Why?” It’s Kie who asks. “We don’t have to, but I assumed you’d want us to. It’s symbolic to wear them after—”

“They’re ugly,” I blurt out. Honesty, they are. “They’re ugly, and they make you look like corny supervillains. It’s not just you two, but everybody who wears them. I’ve tried hard to get past it, but I can’t.”

I’ve refused to allow myself to make the connection until now. It felt rude, but I can’t live the rest of my life like this. Kie and Mason already go out of their way to avoid touching others. Besides, what’s the worst that will happen?

A woman trips over her feet, and when Kie darts forward to catch her, he accidentally grabs her bare arms. It truly wouldn’t devastate me. Humans touch all the time. We don’t value it the way faeries and shifters do.

“I understand if you two feel more comfortable with them,” I continue. I’m backtracking, already regretting insulting something so important to them. “Actually, you should just continue wearing them. I shouldn’t have brought it up. It was rude. ”

Mason chuckles, his warm breath hitting my shoulder. “You’re rambling, Abby. We wear the gloves out of respect for you, not for ourselves. Truth be told, I find them uncomfortable. I’ll be glad not to wear them anymore.”

Kie nods, a smile toying at the corners of his lips. He’s laughing at me. He’s not stopping, either. His smile grows, continuing until he’s burying his face into his pillow to hide it. He’s so giddy tonight, and I hesitate before grabbing his hip and gesturing for him to flip around.

He does so without complaint. I’m surprised he isn’t fighting this, and I wrap my arm around his waist before pulling him against my front.

“We call this spooning,” I whisper in his ear. “I’m spooning you.”

Kie stiffens, and a long beat of silence stretches before he finally responds. “Never say that to me again.”

I smirk. I knew he wouldn’t like it, but that’s what he deserves for making me ask Mason about his asshole. I’ve caught glimpses, and it’s not a forest I’m looking to explore. I never want to think about Mason’s asshole again.