by Kit Rocha
When Dylan buckled it in place, so tightly that Jade could only wiggle her wrists helplessly, she closed her eyes and exhaled on a shudder.
Dylan lay down beside her, his face close to hers. "You're beautiful like this."
She smiled. "Only for you. Only for my lovers."
"That's right." Mad stroked the graceful line of her extended arm. "Scarlet, why don't you look in the drawer next to the bed? There's something there we might want."
She found a tiny bottle, not the plain plastic ones that Tatiana used for her goods in Sector Four, but a delicate glass vial swirling with color. The craftsmanship was remarkable, and Scarlet rubbed her thumb breathlessly over its surface. "What is it?"
"Something you can use for all sorts of things." He tickled down Jade's arm and circled one nipple until she arched restlessly. "It warms against the skin. And it's safe to put anywhere."
Scarlet pulled the stopper free and drizzled a tiny bit on the inside of Jade's thigh. The oil was slick, and it heated Scarlet's thumb as she worked it into Jade's soft skin.
"Oh God," Jade moaned.
"Yeah, sweetheart." Mad leaned down to grip her chin and forced her to look at him. "We'll give you everything you want. Everything you can take. But that's a game we play carefully. Okay?"
She nodded shakily.
"Good." Mad turned her face toward Dylan. "You need a safe word, sweetheart. Dylan's going to watch you and be here with you, taking care of you. And if it's too much, you tell him your safe word. Promise us."
"I—I promise."
"Good," he repeated, touching her lips with his thumb. "What's your word?"
Jade didn't hesitate. "Eden."
Scarlet stretched out, propping herself over Jade's leg. It gave her perfect access to Jade's bare, wet pussy—and a perfect view of anything Mad did to her.
She held up the bottle and arched one eyebrow. Mad smiled and released Jade, trailing his fingers down the center of her body. He stopped to stroke lightly over Jade's inner thigh. "I remember the first time. You said she likes it slow and intense, almost more than she can take."
"Mmm, but you weren't quite ready to give it to her."
Mad smiled and plucked the bottle from her fingers. "Show me what she likes," he murmured as he poured the warm liquid over her fingers. "And then we'll find out how much she can take."
Scarlet started slow, drinking in every restless shift and tiny noise. Jade was so turned on that barely brushing her clit brought her hips off the bed, so she moved on to gently opening her pussy.
One finger, then two. She pumped them slowly, curling them to stroke over Jade's G-spot. Jade rewarded her with a gasping moan and renewed squirming, because she was so easy to please it was a crime almost no one had ever bothered before.
Mad watched for a moment before lifting the bottle again, drizzling it over her nipples this time. "Touch her, Dylan."
He complied, working the oil into her skin with long, lazy strokes. Then, suddenly, he tugged at both of Jade's nipples, and the shock of the caress—or the pleasure mixed with pain—made her inner muscles clamp tightly on Scarlet's fingers.
"Not enough." Scarlet pulled her fingers free. "Come on, Adrian. No holding back, remember?"
Mad tipped the bottle again, coating two of his fingers. When he stroked them into Jade, she gasped and twisted. Her arms came up, but Dylan pressed them back down to the bed with a soothing hum.
Jade panted, trembling harder than Scarlet had ever seen her, as if the leather around her wrists had unlocked something wild. Mad held her there, his thumb hovering over her clit but not touching. "Do you remember your safe word, darling?"
"Yes," she whispered.
"Do you want to use it?"
Jade shook her head frantically. Mad withdrew his fingers and thrust back in with three. His eyes met Scarlet's, and she knew what he wanted without words.
She bent her head and flicked her tongue over Jade's clit. She could taste the oil and her arousal, a heady combination that made the world spin, especially when Jade bucked her hips and Mad groaned and she knew that meant Jade was close, squeezing around his fingers in delicious, pulsing flutters.
She knew Jade's body. Knew the tempo and pressure it took, knew what her hitching breaths and sounds meant. She knew when to suck gently to elicit a hoarse cry, and Mad choked on a curse and pumped his fingers as Jade came for them.
Working together, they could have dragged it on and on. But Mad slowed his touch until the bucking of her hips subsided before saying, "Watch her, Dylan."
Scarlet's breath burned in her lungs, a mix of anticipation and longing. Seeing Jade come was one of her favorite things, and she already knew that witnessing the moment when Mad pushed himself beyond his own boundaries would be another.
He could barely fit three of his long, beautiful fingers inside Jade. But when Dylan whispered his name, Mad slowly—slowly—worked in a fourth, moving carefully but intently. Insistently, until he had damn near his whole hand inside her.
He stayed there, buried deep, his other hand stroking soothingly over her abdomen. "Stay with us, Jyoti."
She sobbed out another moan, her fingers flexing helplessly, only one word falling from her lips. "Yes."
Mad hauled Scarlet up by her hair until they were face-to-face and licked Jade's arousal from her lips. "Don't stop this time until Dylan says so."
The command made her pulse with an empty ache. As soon as he released her, she obeyed, sucking Jade's clit into her mouth and nudging it with her tongue. It didn't matter what she did with Mad fucking Jade like this—soft, hard, even a graze of her teeth. Orgasm after orgasm gripped Jade, until her skin burned and her whole body was quaking.
And they didn't stop. Even when she cried out, even when she screamed, not until Dylan stroked a hand over the back of Scarlet's head and then touched Mad's wrist.
"Enough," he rasped. "She's had enough."
Mad eased his fingers free—gently, so gently. He stretched out beside Jade and cupped her pussy, his lips tender against her temple. "So strong. So sweet. I love you for both."
Jade turned into his touch and kissed him.
It was another sacred moment that stole Scarlet's breath, an intimacy that bordered on divine. Maybe Mad didn't want to be a prince or a saint, but here, in this bed with them, he was both.
She exhaled a ragged breath, something close to a sob. "I don't understand," she whispered. "I don't know how I can possibly belong here, but I do. I feel it."
Jade lifted her bound hands, reaching for her with a yearning that transcended words. Dylan dragged her down, and Scarlet turned from one kiss into another—from Jade, soft but desperate, to Dylan, who wove entire poetic apologies and promises with just his tongue.
And Mad, who kissed her as if he'd saved her for last because she was the one who wanted him like this—aroused to the edge of control, mere seconds from falling apart.
As if he finally trusted her to love him even when he was greedy.
Metal clicked, and Scarlet turned her head just in time to see Dylan free Jade's hands from the confines of the belt. But instead of bringing it to her next, he tossed the leather aside and grasped her wrist in an iron grip.
"No belt," he told her. "The only thing holding you will be us."
"Mmm." Mad stroked her other wrist and up her arm as he shifted to his knees. Across her shoulder, down her spine, so slow and deliberate she was trembling by the time he grazed the curve of her ass and then brushed her pussy. "So patient. Are you tired of being empty, Scarlet?"
She couldn't stop her back from arching, or the eager moan that slipped free. "Yes."
His touch vanished, and she could only follow his movements by the clues. The dip of the bed as he settled behind her. The click of his belt and the whisper of his zipper.
Jade sank her hands into Scarlet's hair and forced her to meet her eyes. "Are you going to let us love you?"
The truth shining in her eyes was undeniable. Inescapable. "You do," she
said. "You love me."
"More than the rest of the world combined." Jade tugged her down for a kiss, soft and unhurried, a gentle contrast to the hard fingers suddenly gripping her hips.
Mad gave her no warning. He didn't ask or tease. He held her in place and drove into her, all the way in one long thrust that curled her toes and sent the first shivery tingles of pleasure singing up her spine.
"Already?" Dylan licked her shoulder and smiled against her skin. "He hasn't even gotten started, love."
Jade wrapped her arms around Scarlet and pulled her closer, trapping her at such a sharp angle that Mad's next thrust felt even deeper. He groaned and did it again. "She's going to come any second, isn't she? I can feel it."
"Yes," Jade breathed against Scarlet's lips. "Because she never holds back."
"Never." Dylan traced slick fingers over the small of her back, leaving her skin hot wherever he touched. More of that lube, and she understood why as soon as he reached the curve of her ass.
He circled her asshole with his fingertips, a caress that warmed and then burned as he pushed deeper. It was another silent promise—next time, he'd fill her with more than his fingers. It would be a plug, or even his cock buried deep inside as Mad fucked her.
She couldn't breathe. She could only push back, driving against Dylan's fingers and Mad's steady, relentless thrusts. Then Jade's hand snuck between their bodies, her fingers light and knowing on Scarlet's clit.
They were touching her everywhere, inside and out. It wasn't the first time the four of them had fallen together, but it was different. Not just the things they'd said, but the way they said it—Jade's soft lips at the hollow of her throat, Dylan whispering against her shoulder. Mad's fingers biting into her skin as he growled and shook behind her.
It was a whole language, one only the four of them could ever comprehend, their new native tongue. The thing that would hold them together in tough times and bring them back when they'd fought with one another. It would shelter them, give them strength, show the world what they meant to each other.
Love.
Scarlet fell apart, her entire body pulsing with a bliss and completion she could only describe with a scream. Dylan sank his teeth into her skin as Mad shuddered, his hips jerking against hers, and she knew he was right there with her, coming with her, falling with her.
Loving with her.
She didn't have to collapse to the bed. Jade was already cradling her, and Scarlet buried her face in her neck as Dylan petted her and Mad dropped on their opposite side. His hand joined Dylan's, rubbing her back as he panted against Jade's shoulder, all of them trapped in a moment of perfect, easy satisfaction.
Jade was the one who broke it. "I like being Jyoti. Do you think it's too late to...be her?"
Dylan made a rough noise in the back of his throat. "It's never too late, love. I think I'm living proof of that."
Scarlet slipped her fingers through his hair. "I think we all are."
"We get to decide who we are, and what our names should be." Mad tilted Jade's face to his. "If the O'Kanes can learn all the crazy-ass nicknames we come up with for each other, we can learn to call you whatever you want."
She smiled shakily. "Does it mean less if I don't just share it with you?"
Mad kissed her nose. "It means plenty that you shared it with us first."
"It's your name," Scarlet reminded her. "Yours. You can do whatever you want with it."
"I want to use it. Because it is my name." She closed her eyes and nuzzled Scarlet. "And it's not the only thing that's mine anymore. Not even close."
Only one thing still intruded on the peaceful calm of the moment, and one look at Mad told Scarlet he was thinking of it, too. "What are you going to do?" she asked quietly.
Mad threw his arm over both of them and closed his eyes. "I'm going to sleep," he said firmly. "And hope Gideon's feeling well enough to talk in the morning."
Chapter Thirty
Mad's cousin was so pale and weak that even sitting up in bed left him exhausted, but Gideon was whole. Not just healing, but healed, because Dylan had held him together long enough for regeneration equipment to arrive.
As far as Mad was concerned, Dylan had performed the first true miracle Sector One had ever seen.
Gideon reached for the water on his bedside table and winced. "Is it supposed to feel this much like getting run over?"
"Hey, quit whining." Mad picked up the glass and handed it to him. "You practically died and came back to life. Did you think that was gonna tickle?"
That earned him a scowl and Gideon's best Lofty Prophet glare. "I see the drugs haven't worn off yet. Or your sense of propriety is worse than ever."
"My sense of humor, too," Mad retorted with a grin. "But you love me this way."
"I do." Gideon smiled, though it faded quickly. "I wish you'd use some of that humor on Maricela."
Any urge Mad had to smile dissipated. Maricela was sleeping off a sedative Dylan had provided, but waking up would bring her no relief. His sheltered baby cousin had received too many abrupt shocks—including stabbing Gideon's attacker.
Taking a life for the first time was bad enough, but Maricela had been raised from birth to believe that killing blackened your soul, even if done in self-defense. And killing someone she knew, someone she'd laughed with, prayed for, someone she'd trusted…
"She'll be okay." If Mad said it confidently enough, maybe he could convince them both. "She's tougher than you know. And she saved your life. Maybe that will help her come to terms with it."
"Maybe." Gideon shifted and winced again, clutching his side. "The wound is gone, but I swear I can still feel it."
"Ace says it takes a while to go away." It was the segue he needed. Speaking of going away… But it had been easier to imagine upstairs, surrounded by Jade and Dylan and Scarlet, his future warm and bright with promise.
This was the hard reality—staring into the eyes of a man who'd narrowly escaped death, who had still lost so much, and saying, I can't be here for you. Not really. Not ever.
It felt so fucking selfish.
"It's okay, Adrian." It was the first time Gideon had used his name in years. His cousin's eyes were dark and understanding, so ancient that the hair on the back of Mad's neck rose. "Sector One has taken enough from you. The only person in the world who still thinks you owe this place more blood and tears is you."
"Gideon—"
"Don't. Not unless you're going to tell me the damn truth."
Mad exhaled roughly and sat back in the chair. "Fine. You and Maricela and Isabela are my family. If you need me as family, I'll come. But you have to take me out of the line of succession. Officially. You need to have a plan in place for who's going to follow you, because it won't be me. I have other responsibilities now."
The words lay there between them, echoing in the silence. The guilt of saying them was miniscule compared to the sheer, throbbing relief, as if the rocks crushing his chest had finally vanished. He could take a full breath again.
And when Gideon said, "You're right," he actually did.
"You're right," Gideon repeated. "I've been irresponsible. That's something you recognize pretty fast when you think you only have thirty seconds left to live. If we don't get through this war in one piece, it won't matter. But if we do…"
He trailed off into silence, his eyes unfocused, and goose bumps joined the raised hairs on the back of Mad's neck. Most of the time, he thought Gideon's displays were just that—conscious theatrics. A useful way of influencing the devout.
And sometimes Mad thought he wasn't the only one in the family who ended up arguing with ghosts when shit went to hell.
"Church and state," Gideon said abruptly, as if simply continuing his thought. "It solves all our problems rather neatly, don't you think?"
Mad blinked his confusion. "You're already the church. And the state."
"I know. That's the problem. Too much damn power, Mad. And what have you always told me?"
Maybe you mean well, maybe your kids will. But it won't take long for someone to come along who sees all that power and thinks it would be fun to abuse the shit out of it.
It was true of every leader, maybe, on some level. But in Sector One, they didn't hold power through money or violence or even legacy. Theirs was the power of belief, of faith. The threat of ruination not just in this life, but for eternity.
The faithful of Sector One wouldn't give up their beliefs easily. Gideon knew that from trying to change them. But if the walls came down and the sectors changed, not everyone in One would be part of that faith anymore. Gideon would have to build a new sort of sector, one where the leader of the government and the leader of their grandfather's religion worked together—or, if the worst happened, checked each other's power.
And he knew, in his gut, which type of power Gideon would choose for himself. "Who are you thinking of for the new religious leader?"
"Isabela." Gideon smiled. "She's the traditional one, anyway, and she loves the rituals. That's what they want. Someone who can give them that comfort. She'll take the best parts of what faith should be and do good with it. Especially if she doesn't have to worry about running the sector."
"She will." Mad might not agree with his cousin's worship of their grandfather, but he'd never doubted her heart. And the sector adored her for upholding the traditions of the Prophet. "It's a good idea, Gideon."
"I'm glad you think so." When Mad started to smile, Gideon shook his head. "I'm serious, Mad. You've lived in O'Kane's back pocket all these years. He's done this right. And you watched him do it."
He had. And he'd bit back criticism of Gideon every time he came home, because it wasn't his place, and because too much lay between them to ever meet in the middle when it came to religion.
But leadership and loyalty... "You want my advice?"
"Yes."
Mad thrust out his wrist, showing off the ink that wrapped around it, along with the O'Kane logo. "Every time the Riders get another raven, you remind them how little their souls are worth. Dallas only marks us once, and it's to remind us how much we have to live for."