Page 110 of Vows of Ruin

“Make sure Daisy doesn’t see any of it.” I tell him.

Wrenley doesn’t even glance his way. Her eyes stay locked between me and Max like he didn’t speak at all. “Good,” she murmurs. “See to it.”

Her tone leaves no room for interpretation. She’s still in command. Even now. Especially now. Torque gives a tight nod and heads out, calling for Riot on his way down the hall. Margot and Elias slip out quietly behind them. And then it’s just the three of us.

Wrenley steps forward, sliding her bloody dagger back into the thigh sheath with a practiced motion that should not be as sensual as it is. Her fingers brush my hip as she passes, and Max’s shoulder as she moves by him. A silent invitation. A promise. A pull. We follow her without speaking. Up the stairs. Down the hall.

Her hips sway, bare feet whispering across the floorboards. She doesn’t look back. She doesn’t need to. She knows we’re coming. When she pushes open the door to the master bathroom, the room is large enough to echo, with a marble floor and a massive walk-in shower. She steps inside owning every inch of what she has become. We step in after her. The door shuts behind us with a soft, final click.

Chapter Forty-One

Wrenley

The bathroom door has barely clicked shut before Max pins me against it, his whole body trembling with the kind of need that borders on hunger. Not rough. Not gentle. Feral. His mouth crashes into mine, stealing whatever breath is left in my lungs. The kiss is deep, consuming, tasting the violence still clinging to my skin. I bite his lower lip, hard, and the groan he lets out vibrates straight into my spine.

Liam is behind me an instant later, one hand sliding into my hair, tugging my head back so his teeth can graze the side of my throat. “You’re covered in blood, little warrior.” he rasps against my pulse. “Let’s change that.”

Max lifts the hem of my shirt and tears it over my head without hesitation, sending a sharp thrill through me. Cool air hits my skin before his mouth is on one of my breasts, hot, frantic, worshipping. Liam’s hands roam down my side, his touch firmer, claiming me inch by inch as he peels the rest of my clothes away. His finger slides through the slick mess already coating me.

“Jesus fuck, Sparrow,” Max growls, dropping to his knees. “You’re drenched already.”

His tongue licks a hot, possessive stripe up my center, tongue flattening over my clit like he owns it. My knees buckle. Liam catches me, one arm banded under my breasts, the other sliding two thick fingers inside me alongside Max’s tongue.

Between the two of them, I’m barely standing. Between the two of them, I don’t have to.

“Shower,” I manage, breathless.

Max stands, moving instantly, turning on the water. Steam blooms in the room, thick and hot. Liam guides me toward it, his mouth brushing the back of my neck, my shoulder, everywhere he knows will unravel me.

By the time the water spills over us, I’m pinned between their bodies, Max in front of me, Liam behind. Heat, strength, and devotion pressing in from all sides. Liam lifts me, and my legs wrap around Max’s waist, sliding onto his cock in one smooth motion, gravity doing half the work.

Liam steps in behind me, chest to my back, and I feel his slick fingers circle where Max is stretching me open. “Relax, baby,” he murmurs, nipping my earlobe. “Let me in.”

I do. God help me, I do.

The burn as he pushes in alongside Max is exquisite, too much, not enough, everything. They both groan, low and wrecked, and then they move together, slow at first, finding the rhythm that makes stars explode behind my eyes.

Max kisses me like he’s drowning, Liam holds me like I’m something precious he almost lost. Their hands trace over my wet skin, slow at first, then more insistent as the need between us builds. Fingers sliding over hips, spines, mapping me, memorizing me, claiming me in ways that have nothing to do with pain and everything to do with possession.

I lose track of how many times I cum, shattered apart and put back together between them, mouth open on silent screams, nails raking down Max’s back hard enough to draw blood. Liam bites the junction of my neck and shoulder when he cums, pulsing hot inside me. Max follows seconds later, hips stuttering, spilling deep with my name broken on his tongue.

Max whispers against my mouth, voice wrecked. “You’re going to destroy us, Sparrow.”

Liam’s lips find the shells of my ear. “Good,” he murmurs. “We deserve it.”

The heat rises, fierce and consuming, a storm of breathless kisses and tangled limbs and whispered promises they don’t have to say out loud for me to understand.

The world narrows to the sound of water hitting tile, the feel of their hands on my skin, the way they say my name like a vow. At some point, the glass fogs, my knees give way, and the only thing keeping me upright is them. Max’s grip, and Liam’s strength, their bodies bracketing mine like they were built for it.

By the time the water cools, I’m shaking, boneless and wrung-out in the best way possible. Eventually, Liam pulls out slowly, reverently, and Max lowers me to my feet. My legs don’t work. They never do after this.

Liam turns the water hotter. Max washes me like I’m something sacred, fingers gentle between my thighs, pressing soft kisses to every bruise they left.

Liam works shampoo into my hair, massaging my scalp until I’m boneless against his chest, and my thoughts turn to nothing. When we finally step out, he wraps me in a towel, and Max lifts me easily into his arms.

The bed is warm, familiar. Home. They settle on either side of me, hair still damp from the shower, still smelling like heat, lust and devotion. I fall asleep to Max’s hand tracing lazy patterns on my hip, and Liam’s lips touching my temple as he whispers, quiet and certain. “Mine. Ours. Always.”

I wake before the sun has fully claimed the room. Max is draped over my stomach, one arm heavy across my waist. Liam is behind me, his breath slow and warm against the back of my neck, his hand resting low on my hip; he’s still guarding me in this sleep.