Chapter 7: Not Yet

Asterion kissed me as though he could punish death for keeping me from him. The careful control he had maintained shattered beneath my hands. His fingers tightened around my waist, drawing me closer until the heat of his body pressed through the thin fabric of my nightdress.

Faolan remained behind me. He did not trap me, but his hands settled on my hips while his mouth brushed the back of my shoulder. The contact sent another wave of heat through the bonds.

My wolf welcomed both of theirs.

For several moments, I forgot Raiden's diary on the floor. I forgot Ragriel, the Celestial Realm, and the mother who might have abandoned me. There was only Asterion's mouth against mine and Faolan's warmth at my back.

I curled my fingers into Asterion's hair and kissed him harder. He answered with a low sound that traveled through my chest. Then, he stopped.

Asterion tore his mouth from mine so abruptly that anger cut through the haze clouding my thoughts.

"What?" I questioned.

His palm covered my forehead. "You're burning."

"That usually happens when people kiss."

His expression remained cold. "This isn't desire."

I stiffened. "Do not insult me by pretending you can tell the difference."

"I can feel the difference through the bond."

Faolan turned me in his arms and placed the back of his hand against my cheek. The hunger in his amber eyes disappeared beneath sudden concern. "The fever is worse."

"Both of you were enjoying it moments ago."

"I am still enjoying it," Faolan said. "That doesn't mean I intend to let you collapse."

"I have fought through worse."

"And look where that brought you."

I reached for Asterion again simply because he had decided I could not. The room tilted. My knees weakened, and Asterion caught me before pride could force them straight. His arm went beneath my legs.

Fear surged through both bonds. It was sharp enough to steal my breath. Asterion saw the arena corridor again: my body going limp in his arms, my pulse too faint beneath Faolan's fingers. Faolan felt the same memory from the opposite side, accompanied by the terror that this time I might not wake.

Their panic irritated me more than their concern.

"I am not dying."

"You have said that before," Faolan answered.

"No, I allowed everyone to believe I had died. There is a difference."

"It did not feel different to us."

"Put me down."

He lifted me against his chest.

"Asterion."

"You wanted me to put you down five years ago," he said. "I listened."

The words silenced me long enough for him to carry me toward the bed.

Faolan pulled back the blankets. Together, they settled me against the pillows as though I were something fragile enough to break.

I hated it.

I hated the weakness in my limbs even more.

"Leave."

Faolan removed his boots.

"Did you hear me?"

"Perfectly."

Asterion unfastened the cuffs of his shirt and folded his gloves on the bedside table.

"Then, get out."

"No," he said.

My mouth parted. There had been a time when one look from me could send both men to their knees. Asterion would lower his head and wait for the punishment he believed he deserved. Faolan might argue, but he always obeyed before I repeated myself.

The men beside my bed did neither. Faolan climbed beneath the blankets and settled on my right. Asterion moved around the bed and lay on my left.

"What exactly do you think you're doing?"

"Making certain you remain alive until morning," Asterion replied.

"I survived five years without either of you watching me sleep."

Faolan propped his head on one hand. "We saw the results."

"I was poisoned because of you."

"Which makes your current fever our responsibility."

"Then, take responsibility from the chairs."

Neither moved. I tried to sit, but Asterion's arm slipped around my waist and guided me back against the pillows. He settled behind me, his chest along my back. Faolan remained facing me.

I was trapped between winter and flame. "You will regret this," I warned.

"Eventually," Faolan said. "But not tonight."

Asterion found my left hand beneath the blanket and threaded his fingers through mine while Faolan took my right.

I stared at our joined hands. "Release me."

"No," Asterion answered.

I pulled against his grip. He held on without squeezing hard enough to hurt. Faolan's fingers tightened when I attempted to reclaim my other hand. "I am not a prisoner."

"Then, stop trying to escape from a bed," he said.

"I could break every finger you possess."

Asterion's thumb moved across my knuckles. "Then, begin with mine, my moon."

Faolan smiled. "Leave enough of him intact to brush your hair tomorrow."

"You find this amusing?" I asked in disbelief and annoyance.

"I find you threatening us while lying between us extremely encouraging."

Warm satisfaction entered through his bond. Asterion's remained colder, but beneath it waited the same dark pleasure. They enjoyed this. Not the possibility of broken bones alone, although Faolan's smile suggested he might enjoy that too. They enjoyed my anger. My commands. Even the punishments I threatened.

Once, withholding my affection had been enough to wound them.

Whenever they pleased me, I allowed them to sit near my chair or sleep inside my tent. Whenever they disappointed me, I sent them outside and watched their faces fall. Father had taught me that kindness lost its value when given freely.

Sometimes, I withdrew my hand for no reason beyond wanting to see whether they would miss it. Their disappointment had made me feel powerful.

Now, I pulled again, and neither released me. I tested Asterion first, pressing my thumbnail into the sensitive space between his knuckles. Once, the smallest sign of my displeasure would have made him apologize. He only watched my hand and sent a current of dark satisfaction through our bond.

Faolan was worse. When I twisted his finger backward just enough to threaten the joint, his smile deepened.

"You truly did miss being punished," I said.

"We missed everything," he replied.

The answer stripped the amusement from the moment. The obedient boys Father delivered to my feet no longer existed. These men had survived my death, ruled my pack, and learned that my anger could no longer destroy them.

Threatening them was supposed to remind them who I was. Instead, it reminded them that I was alive.

"You are both deranged," I muttered.

"You made us," Faolan said.

"I can still unmake you."

His pleasure sharpened through the bond. "Threaten us again, little tyrant. We have five years to make up for."

I stopped struggling. Not because they had defeated me, but my fever made every movement feel heavier than the last, and fighting only encouraged them.

Asterion lifted our joined hands and pressed my knuckles against his chest. With his free hand, he began combing his fingers through my hair. He separated each tangled strand with patient care. The slow strokes traveled from my scalp to the ends, soothing an ache I had not noticed until it began disappearing.

It was an old ritual.

After long campaigns, when armor felt too heavy and every sound reminded me of battle, Asterion would sit behind me and brush my hair until my breathing slowed. He had been the only person I trusted not to pull too hard.

His face lowered into my hair. He breathed deeply. A minute later, he did it again.

"Stop smelling me."

"No."

"I am not going to disappear."

His arm tightened around my waist. "You said nothing the last time."

The quiet answer left no room for mockery.

Faolan's thumb traced my cheekbone. He moved slowly, following the curve toward my temple before brushing a loose strand away from my face. His touch carried the same rhythm he had used whenever I struggled to sleep.

Faolan had always pretended the gesture was accidental. He would talk until my eyes closed, telling ridiculous stories while his thumb passed over my cheek again and again.

Tonight, he said nothing. He merely watched me as if sleep might steal me before he could stop it.

"I dislike being stared at," I whispered.

"You used to demand that we look at you."

"Only when I was speaking."

"Then, keep speaking."

"I have nothing to say to you."

"That has never prevented you before."

I would have insulted him if exhaustion had not stolen the words.

Asterion continued passing his fingers through my hair. Faolan continued caressing my cheek. Their wolves settled around mine through the bonds, no longer demanding or searching.

For five years, I had slept with one ear listening for footsteps. Even in locked rooms, I kept a weapon beneath my pillow and woke at every unfamiliar scent.

There was no weapon within reach now.

There were only the two men I had once trusted enough to sleep beside.

They had remembered how to put me to sleep.

My body had remembered how to trust them. That was my final thought before darkness took me.

When I awakened, sunlight warmed the curtains. For the first time in five years, I could not remember dreaming. There had been no moonfire swallowing the battlefield. No empty grave bearing my name. No faceless soldiers dragging me toward the life I had buried.

Only warmth.

That realization unsettled me more than any nightmare.

Asterion's arm remained around my waist. His face was buried in my hair, his breathing slow against the back of my neck. Faolan lay close enough that our knees touched.

Both men were still holding my hands.

Embarrassment arrived before anger. I tried to pull free, but their grips tightened at the same time.

Faolan opened one amber eye. "Good morning."

"Release me."

"You slept better while restrained."

"I was not restrained."

His smile widened. "Of course not."

Asterion stirred behind me but did not remove his arm.

"What happened last night changes nothing," I said.

"Which part?" Faolan asked. "Kissing us or sleeping peacefully between us?"

"I chose one moment. I did not choose a future with either of you."

His fingers tightened around mine. "Then, we'll convince you one moment at a time."

"One moment is more than we had yesterday," Asterion murmured into my hair.

A knock interrupted my answer. The female healer entered after Asterion granted permission. She carried fresh bandages and a leather case filled with small glass bottles. Neither man exposed my identity, referring to me only as Polycaste while she worked.

She inspected the bites on my neck, replaced the dressings around my wrists, and made me swallow another bitter medicine. "The poison is leaving her blood," she said. "The fever should break by tonight."

"When can she travel?" Asterion asked.

"Not for another three days. The wolfsbane weakened her wolf considerably. If she shifts before then, she may not have enough strength to change back."

I kept my expression blank.

Three days.

Long enough to recover.

Long enough to watch their guards.

Long enough to determine which road led away from Crescent Ice.

The healer departed after making both Alphas promise that I would remain in bed. Faolan looked at me, but I smiled innocently.

His answering smile told me I had fooled no one. "Rest while you can, little tyrant," he said. "You'll need your strength for whatever foolish thing you're already planning."

I frowned as a response.