Page 102 of The Villain's Beast

“I love the way Daren loves you,” he said softly, thumb dragging across my cheekbone. “And I love the way Bellamy fits into your pocket.”

I reached up between us, pushing two of my fingers against his mouth to stop him from saying the rest.

“I’m just not your type, B,” I said, pressing against his lips before letting my hand fall away. “I get it.”

“I’m invested in you, Luca.” Gideon dipped his chin toward his chest, searching out my stare with imploring green eyes. “As much as I am in Fletcher. I don’t need to sleep with you for that to be true.”

Swallowing, I blinked hard a couple of times, unsure if the unexpected swell of tears was a result of the rejection or the absolute kindness that somehow meant more than getting Gideon into bed would ever mean.

“I love you too, Gideon,” I said, huffing a breath out of my nose and breaking his hold on me. “But don’t worry, it can be our little secret.”

He snorted, rolling his eyes at me in the same casual way he used to do and, for the first time in weeks, everything felt right in the world.

We walked the rest of the road in silence, and as we crested the steep driveway that led up to Thorn Hill, the first thing I saw was Daren. He paced the porch, fingers tangled in his hair and his posture crooked like a tree. I should have called out for him, should have put him out of his misery. Gideon could have done the same, but instead we continued our ascent in silence. We couldn’t have been more than fifty feet away when Daren saw us, his eyes going wide and his shoulders deflating, and then he was off.

He jumped off the porch at full speed, closing the space between us in seconds, and I was in his arms. With my face smashed against his chest, it was impossible to breathe, but I could have died happy like that. My last gasping breath being nothing more than the smell of the man I loved.

“I’m here,” I said, words muffled into the crook of his neck.

“He’s safe,” Gideon said. “We all are.”

And then he carried on without us, leaving Daren and me in the middle of the driveway, chests pressed together and arms wrapped around each other.

“Are you okay?” he asked, pulling back and checking me over for injury. I imagined him doing the same to Fletcher, to Bellamy, to…maybe not to Gideon. But that was okay. Daren and I loved each other openly; there was room for more between us. Things with Fletcher and Gideon were different, and rightfully so.

They deserved that peace.

“I’m perfect now that you’re here,” I promised, lifting onto my toes and slanting our mouths together. I’m sure my tongue tasted like stale coffee, but Daren didn’t seem to mind. He threaded his fingers through the hair at the back of my head and held us together, his tongue dipping deep into my mouth and kissing me until my knees didn’t have the strength to hold me up any longer.

Chapter 70

Gideon

The last fifty feet to the house might as well have been a mile.

I walked in and found Bellamy on Fletcher’s lap, his head thrown back like he was on the cusp of an orgasm and jealousy burned hot and thick in my veins.

“That’s enough,” I said from the door.

Bellamy jumped ten feet into the air, and Fletcher was up before Bellamy even hit the ground.

“Luca is outside with Daren,” I said to Bellamy, not taking my eyes off of Fletcher. “I’m sure he’ll be excited to see you.”

He took that as I meant it, not as an insult or a dismissal, but an invitation to explore the other side of whatever unconventional relationship the five of us had found ourselves in. I understood I was the odd man out, my focus very nearly singular, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t share, that I didn’t want them to enjoy…it simply meant that when I wanted Fletcher, I wanted him. I wasn’t going to magically become a different version of myself just because my father was out of the picture. I’d always be his son, no matter how much I hated that.

Bellamy made a soft sound in the back of his throat and headed for the porch, grazing his fingers against the top of myhand on the way. Fletcher arched a brow at the touch, and I ignored his pause.

“Are you all right?” I asked, sizing up the black eye Luca had given him. It must have hurt, and I imagined there was slightly more intent behind it than cover when Luca delivered it.

“My father is dead,” he said.

“So is mine.”

“I didn’t intend…” Fletcher trailed off, licking his lower lip.

“I did.”

He nodded. “Is it enough?”