Page 61 of Wraith (Deviant Assassin #1)
Wild
I 'm sandwiched between two bodies. Pain radiates from my wounded side, dulled by the warmth surrounding me. Blade's steady breathing fills the room from my left, while Kiera's softness curls against my right, her hand resting possessively on my chest.
Blinking away sleep's remnants, my mind races to process how we ended up here. After the attack yesterday, everything shifted. Her voice still sends shivers down my spine.
"You're both mine, and I'm yours."
The words echo as I carefully shift to take in first Kiera's sleeping expression and then Blade's. Pain shoots through my side with the movement, a welcome reminder that I'm alive, that we all made it through.
Blade stirs, his muscular arm stretching above his head.
My gaze traces the lines of his tattoos, following them down to where the sheet sits low on his hips.
The sight triggers something unexpected: a hunger I've never fully acknowledged.
Over the years, I've been with men a few times, brief encounters that satisfied a need but never ignited this burning want.
But Blade is different. The strength in his body, the dangerous edge to everything he does, the controlled power—it all calls to something primal in me. The realization lands with shocking clarity: I don't just want Kiera anymore. I want them both.
Kiera shifts against me, her eyes fluttering open. Those deadly eyes pierce through me as if reading every thought. A slow, knowing smile spreads across her face.
"Morning," she murmurs, voice still thick with sleep. Her hand slides over my chest as she pulls me closer, a possessive gesture that lights a fire in me. "How's the wound?"
"I'll live," I manage, my voice rough.
Blade rolls onto his side, fully awake now, watching us with hooded eyes. "You need your dressing changed," he says, his deep voice sending another unexpected jolt through me.
"I'll get the supplies," Kiera offers, sliding from the bed. She's wearing one of my t-shirts, the fabric skimming her thighs as she moves toward the bathroom. Her graceful predator's movements, the same ones that first drew me to her, hold me transfixed.
When I turn back, Blade studies me intently, his expression unreadable.
"Still in pain?" he asks, the concern in his voice at odds with his usual hardened demeanor, odd given we were at each other's throats only days ago.
"Nothing I can't handle," I reply, my gaze tracing the lines of his chest, the scars that tell stories of violence and survival.
"Sure about that?" Something else colors his tone now, charging the air between us. He's noticed my wandering eyes, the hunger impossible to hide.
Kiera returns with the medical supplies, saving me from responding. She sets everything on the nightstand and sits on the edge of the bed.
"Shirt off, Wild. Let's see what we're working with."
I comply, wincing as I pull the fabric over my head. The bandage is spotted with blood, evidence of yesterday's overexertion. Kiera's fingers move gently as she peels away the dressing, feather-light against my skin.
"Blade, help me with this," she directs, and he moves closer without hesitation. The bed dips with his weight as he positions himself on my other side.
His hands differ from Kiera's: larger, rougher, but equally careful as they clean the wound. Every touch sends electricity coursing through me. My breath catches sharply when his fingers brush against uninjured skin.
"Too rough?" he asks, eyes meeting mine.
"No," I shake my head and admit, "Not rough enough."
His gaze darkens, understanding dawning. Kiera watches this exchange with her knowing smile, her eyes glittering with satisfaction.
"Hold still," she instructs as she applies the antiseptic. The sting distracts from the heat building inside me. "You're healing well, but you need to be careful. No more heroics for a few days."
"Yes, ma'am," I respond automatically, the words falling from my lips before I can think better of it.
Blade's mouth quirks up at one corner. "Quick learner," he comments to Kiera, but his eyes stay locked on mine.
"Some of us know how to follow orders," I retort, earning a low chuckle from him that resonates deep in my chest.
Kiera finishes applying the fresh bandage, her fingers lingering on my skin.
"All done. Want some breakfast, or are you too stiff? You need to eat something."
"I can manage," I say, though moving holds little appeal right now. Not when caught between them, their body heat seeping into my skin, their scents mingling in the air around me.
Blade stands first, offering me a hand. Taking it, I allow him to pull me to my feet. His strength shows in how easily he takes my weight, and for a moment, we stand chest to chest, close enough to feel his breath. Neither of us steps back immediately.
"You good?" he asks, voice rougher than before.
I nod, not trusting my voice. Kiera watches from the bed, her expression hungry and approving.
"I'll make coffee," Blade finally says, releasing my hand and heading for the door. The powerful lines of his back, the way his boxer briefs cling to his taut ass holding my attention.
"Well, that's interesting," Kiera says, rising from the bed and stepping close to me. She runs a finger down my chest, stopping just above the bandage. "If unexpected and hot."
I catch her wrist, holding her hand against my heart. "Neither did I. This is... new territory for me."
Her smile turns predatory. "But you want it. You want us both."
It's not a question, but I answer anyway. "Yes."
The admission feels like stepping off a cliff, exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure.
She stretches up to press her lips against mine, a quick, claiming kiss.
"Good. Because I want that too." She pulls back, her eyes gleaming. "Come on. Food first, then we figure out our next move."
Following her from the bedroom, possibilities race through my mind. The safe house suddenly feels different. Charged with potential, with hunger barely contained. As we enter the kitchen, Blade stands at the counter, his back to us as he works the coffee machine.
Kiera moves to him, sliding her arms around his waist from behind. He stiffens for just a moment before relaxing into her touch. She whispers something in his ear that makes him glance over his shoulder to look at me, his expression intense and searching.
Whatever she said got his attention. The air changes, as does the way he looks at me now. Not as a rival, but as something else entirely. Something that makes my blood run hot.
Leaning against the doorframe, I cross my arms over my chest and absorb the sight of them together. Jealousy no longer rises, simply replaced by a different kind of ache. The desire to be part of what they have. To tangle with both of them, to lose myself in their strength and heat.
"Coffee's almost ready," Blade says, his voice deceptively casual. "There's eggs and bacon in the fridge."
"I'll cook," I offer, pushing off from the doorway. As I move past them to the refrigerator, my hand brushes against Blade's arm. A deliberate touch that could pass as accidental if he reacts poorly.
He doesn't. Instead, his eyes darken, and he shifts slightly toward me. Kiera watches this interaction with naked pleasure, her fingers tracing patterns on Blade's chest.
"I like watching you two," she says, her voice soft but commanding. "I want to see more of that."
Blade's jaw tightens, but not in anger. The look is clear now: restraint. He's holding himself back, just as I am. We circle each other, testing boundaries, waiting for the right moment to cross the line we've both been edging toward.
"You'll get your show," he promises her, his eyes still on me. "When the time is right."
The promise in those words hangs in the air between us, making it hard to breathe, to think. Turning to the refrigerator gives me a moment to collect myself.
As I gather ingredients, their gazes weigh on me like physical touch, danger and excitement intermingled.
The certainty burns bright. I won't leave this safe house the same man who entered it.
Because for the first time in my life, I've found where I belong—between a killer and her husband, in a dance of power and desire that promises to consume us all.