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101: Is this a date?
Last Updated:
2025-12-29 23:15:54
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Deadly Game With My Husband's Brothers 105: Natalie's shit.
~~PEYTON~~“Axel”“Hmm.”“Will you replace me?”His hand, which had been idly stroking the back of my head, stops mid-motion. He doesn't go stiff or dramatic; he just goes quiet. The kind of quiet that makes you realize you’ve said the one thing you shouldn't have.I shift slightly, lying on top of him with my chin resting on his chest so I can see his face in the dim light.“Everyone seems to think I have a shelf life.” I add, but he doesn't frown; his expression doesn't change.“And by everyone, who are they exactly?”I rest my head back on his chest, toying with the button on his chest like I have nothing better to do.It's just that I'm hesitant. I haven't told them about Jason or Odin’s uninvited pop-up in the kitchen.“Just people,” I mumble into his skin, scratching the fabric of his shirt. “The kind that like to remind me I’m just a guest with a fancy title and a temporary pass.”Axel’s hand starts moving again, but this time his fingers weave through my hair, tugging gently u
Deadly Game With My Husband's Brothers 104: Get out!
~~PEYTON~~I think I hit him.I lunge the car forward without hesitation. One moment, he was standing with audacity, and the next, he was scrambling out of the way, tripping all over himself.I don't stop. I don't look back to see if he's face down in the gravel or just shaking the dust off his clothes.The image of him scrambling—clumsy, desperate—should make me laugh. It should be the ultimate win. But as I pull into the garage and the heavy door rolls shut, the victory feels like lead in my stomach.And it’s not just exhaustion; it’s a throbbing headache that starts at the base of my skull and settles right behind my eyes.I stumble into the kitchen, the bright lights making me wince.As I reach for a glass, the sound of my name makes me jump.“Jesus.”I slam my butt against the counter, clutching my chest as strange footsteps sound from the living room, and now it's stepping into the kitchen.I scan the place, my eyes locking on a fry pan sitting on the stovetop not too far away.
Deadly Game With My Husband's Brothers 103: High road to the grave, Jason
~~PEYTON~~I march down the long driveway. I think my anger has reached its boiling point. Jason thinks he can copy and paste his obsession into my life, and I'll let it slide. I know a headache is coming out of this, but the pills will handle it just fine. I've survived worse body crashes before."What part of 'don’t follow me' don’t you understand, Jason? Is it the 'don't' or the 'follow'?" I spit.Jason gets out of the car, looking disheveled and desperate.He sighs, trying to get a word out. I cut in. "You don't get to sigh; you're the annoying one." "I'm worried about you," he snaps, and honestly analyzing his expression, his voice, the soft tunes, his eyes—you actually believe you're the crazy one.“I don't need your worry or whatever you think is best for me. If you think they’re bad for me or they’ll dump me when they’re bored or they’ll have a new shiny toy to replace me by next month... Fine! I love whatever is wrong with them, and frankly, I love the way they treat me lik
Deadly Game With My Husband's Brothers 102: Ghost from Pahrump
~~PEYTON~~I saunter over, trying to channel my inner "I-own-the-room" energy to mask the fact that my heart is trying to kick its way out of my chest."Nice place, Jason," I say, sliding into the booth. "But you didn't have to—”"You look good, Peyton." He cuts me off. "Different. Expensive."“Oh.” I fake a smile, glancing at my coat that seemed too laughably basic for a place like this. “Thanks, but you didn't have to—”“And your hair… I love what you did with it." He cuts me off again. He's going to have to stop doing that. Besides, I just let it fall on my back as it's grown longer than before.Where is he going with this, anyway? He wouldn't even let me say he didn't have to do all this.The waiter appears out of thin air. He doesn't even offer a menu; he sets down Osetra caviar nestled on a bed of crushed ice, followed by other expensive-looking appetizers."I didn't order this," I say."It’s on the house, Miss," the waiter murmurs.I turn back to Jason, my eyes narrowing into s
Deadly Game With My Husband's Brothers 101: Is this a date?
~~PEYTON~~PEYTONIt’s 10:00 AM.In my former life, I’d be on my third meeting.Now? I’ve spent forty-five minutes debating whether I should nap or walk to the kitchen to see if the fridge has grown any new snacks since 9:45.Being a Thorne baby mama sounds great on paper until you realize the job description is basically being a pampered house cat with morning sickness.I feel like a broken clock—stuck at the same hour every day while the world moves on."Quiet time is good for the baby," Axel whispered this morning before kissing my forehead.Easy for him to say. He gets to go out and be a menace to society. I’m stuck here wondering if I can teach the house staff to play poker for high stakes to feel a spark of joy.But just then, when I finally decide on a nap, my phone rings.Unknown number.Why do I have a feeling it’s Odin? He calls me from different numbers, or I'm just the one who doesn't save his contact.If it’s him, he’s probably calling to remind me of his engagement party
Deadly Game With My Husband's Brothers 100: Christmas present ll
~~PEYTON~~“Merry Christmas, Princess," Axel chirps out of nowhere, his eyes bright with a mischief that usually means trouble for my sanity."Merry Christmas," Raphael adds. “I trust Axel didn't wake you too abruptly?""He tried to eat my face, if that's what you mean," I say dryly.I look past him toward the tree, and my jaw nearly hits the floor. It’s not just a few gifts. It’s an avalanche—gold paper, silk ribbons, and boxes so big I could probably hide inside them."What is all this?""Everything you didn't ask for, but we decided you needed," Raphael says, leading me toward the center of the room to the dining table, where a single, small velvet box sits next to my breakfast."I told you I don't want jewelry," I groan. "I have enough diamonds to sink a ship.""It's not jewelry," Raphael says, pulling out my chair for me.I frown and open the box. Inside isn't a ring or a necklace. It’s a key. A gold-plated key with a small leather tag that has a single word embossed on it: STORM
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