Hers To Keep: THE QUINTESSENCE COLLECTION I

by Akeroyd, Serena

  His laughter had him flinging his head back at that. She loved that she could break down his walls, make him act like just a man instead of the criminologist who had more on his plate than most.

  The other day, seeing him broken inside at having lost another victim because he had been too slow to catch the murderer? It had done something to her. Twisted her. Something that had already been happening thanks to Andrei’s horrible tale of his mother’s death.

  They’d all been touched, in their own ways, by the depths of depravity. Some of them more than others, but they’d all rallied around and had survived by coming together into this unusual household. One she was grateful to be a part of.

  Here, she knew, she could flourish. Just as they had.

  She’d found her place, and what a place when the view came with five hunky men, all with cocks that wouldn’t goddamn quit.

  * * *

  Finishing up in the restroom, Sascha didn’t return to the kitchen but headed for the front door. Having heard the postman’s arrival, she went to grab the letters on the doormat. Riffling through them, she began to sort them in her hand, but as she did, a shadowy figure blocked out some of the light coming in from the inlaid stained glass in the door.

  By the blur’s diminutive stature, she figured it was a woman. And to save her head from ringing once the doorbell struck, she opened up, a questioning look on her face that immediately turned to one of dislike.

  “What are you doing here?” she demanded of Kurt’s ex-wife.

  A nasty smile played about Katrin Yeller’s mouth—it irritated the shit out of Sascha that the bitch still had Kurt’s surname.

  Call her possessive, but to her, that was wrong on so many levels. The damn woman hadn’t been much of a wife when they were married. Why keep the surname now they were divorced?

  “I wanted to give my thanks to Andrei and Kurt.” She gestured to the gifts she had in her arms. Gifts, Sascha eyed as though they were poisoned snakes.

  From this cow, they might as well have been.

  “They don’t want your thanks.” Wasn’t that the truth.

  This bitch had told Andrei she was pregnant with his child, had let him start making plans with Kurt, and then she’d had an abortion.

  As far as Sascha was concerned, any debts the men figured they owed Katrin for having helped keep some of Kurt’s family secrets locked away from the press, had been more than paid.

  Rather than do the dutiful thing and let the guest into the house, Sascha leaned across the doorway and folded her arms across her chest.

  This was her house now.

  She wasn’t here temporarily, nor was she here because this was her place of employment.

  It was her home.

  Her haven.

  And this witch wasn’t taking a step inside.

  “Aren’t you going to let me in?” came the cross demand.

  Sascha smiled. Sweetly. “No. I see no reason for you to come in. You can always give me the gifts.”

  “How do I know they’ll make it to the men?” Katrin demanded snidely.

  Sascha would have been offended, but Katrin was right on the money. “They won’t make it anywhere other than the trash.” She smiled again. This time, with teeth. “They want nothing from you except for you to disappear. So, go on, piss off.”

  Katrin’s eyes flared wide with outrage. “How dare you speak to me like that? I’ll tell Kurt.”

  She snorted. “Do. Tell him. Oh wait, you won’t be able to. He told me he blocked your number, and we both know that if he sees you coming, he’ll go in the other direction.” She wasn’t sure if he had blocked her number, but Sascha would make sure that happened today. “You’re not wanted here, Katrin. Your gifts and your false praise are unnecessary.”

  “You think you’re so special, don’t you?” Katrin spat. “But you’re not the first woman to appeal to them. They’ve had their selection of sluts, but they always, always get rid of them once they tire of them. You’re no different.” A nasty sneer curled her top lip. “Oh, wait, I’m wrong. You are different. They make you wash their clothes. What do they call that in English? Value for money?”

  If anything, Sascha relaxed at Katrin’s words. A week ago, she’d have been hurt and would have tried to hide it, but there was no need. She was secure in her place here. Everything else might be up in the air, but what she had with her quintet was the only solid ground she had.

  “I know I’m not their first, but I intend on being their last.” She leaned into Katrin’s space. “Take your uptight ass, your unwanted gifts, and that stench you call a perfume and get off my property before I call the police.”

  Katrin narrowed her eyes at her. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Try me.”

  She must have looked serious enough because Katrin just glowered harder then, after a handful of seconds, and with a huff, spun on her four-inched spikes for heels, and stalked down the steps onto the sidewalk.

  Sascha watched her head for a smart BMW and didn’t stop watching until the Wicked Witch of West Germany—as Sawyer called her—had disappeared from their street.

  It was too much to hope that it would be from their lives forever, but for the moment, it was enough.

  The fact that Sascha felt secure enough to not only refuse the woman entry, to reject her gifts, and to threaten the police on her if she didn’t leave the premises, was a testament to the change in her relationship with her men.

  Love made all the difference, she realized. It created a bridge between her and her men where nothing else could. One constructed so strongly, that it would take more than a damn earthquake, or trouble that came in the form of wicked witches, to destroy it.

  * * *

  As Andrei sat at the breakfast counter, he elbowed Devon who was still eating his cereal.

  “Where’s everyone?”

  “Kurt and Sawyer haven’t come down yet. Sean and Henry finished earlier. But Sascha went to pee.”

  “I’m sure she phrased it like that,” Andrei said dryly. “You should try not to embarrass the woman who makes your food.”

  “Why?” He frowned. “You don’t think she’d spit on it, do you?”

  Andrei couldn’t help but roar with laughter at that, and Devon’s look of horror as he stared down at what remained of his eggs.

  “I heard that, Andrei!” The reprimand came from the staircase. “No, Devon, I won’t spit in your food for your inability to follow even the most basic of social customs,” she finished sweetly as she returned to the kitchen, placing a small stack of letters on the counter as she did so. “Although, at least I now have a threat worthy of making you tremble in your seat.” To Andrei, she murmured, “I suppose I should be grateful he didn’t hazard a guess that I’d be having a crap.”

  Devon blinked, still eying his food with distrust. “Highly unlikely. You used the downstairs bathroom. If you’d used the one in your suite, that’s another matter entirely.”

  Sascha and Andrei groaned at the same time.

  Andrei pinched the bridge of his nose. “Jesus, Devon.”

  “Devon, do I even want to know how you know that?” Sascha demanded, stacking her hands on her hips.

  He scowled. “It makes sense, doesn’t it? Why would you use the house bathroom rather than your personal one for that? It’s just manners.”

  Her grin was quick. “I have none then it would seem.”

  Andrei snorted, and Devon looked particularly disturbed. “I’ll always use mine from now on,” he mumbled under his breath, making Sascha chuckle.

  “Are you going to be watching everything I prepare now?”

  Devon shrugged. “I usually watch you a lot to be fair. I’ve never seen you try to spit in our food.”

  Sascha clucked her tongue. “This isn’t a freakin’ drive-thru. Why would I spit on your food? If I’m angry at one of you, I’ll let you know. You don’t have to worry about that.”

  Her huff had Andrei smirking. “Yes. We know that, don’t we,
Devon?” he asked rhetorically, elbowing him in the side.

  Devon just grunted.

  “What would you like for breakfast, Andrei?” Sascha asked him with a smile. She peered over, leaned on the counter, then quickly anointed his lips with a kiss.

  “More of that,” he teased, holding the back of her head to his so he could taste her further.

  Only when she moaned against his lips did he release her. Her hand came up to cup the back of his head this time, but she only speared her fingers through his hair, making him shiver with delight at her touch.

  “When’s your next doctor’s appointment?”

  She chuckled at his rough tone. “Tomorrow.”

  “Thank God.”

  “Who’s going with you?” Devon asked, completely undisturbed by their making out beside him.

  Devon was, as he’d often heard Sawyer call him, an odd duck.

  Still, the same could be said for Kurt too. He’d have had the opposite reaction to Devon; undoubtedly, he’d have been panting like a dog at the sight of their hot kiss.

  He couldn’t say that he hadn’t enjoyed Kurt’s voyeurism a time or two. Although Katrin had the pussy of a Vagina Dentata—teeth inside to emasculate even the strongest of men—he’d enjoyed being with her and Kurt at the same time.

  Each to their own, he supposed ruefully.

  Absentmindedly wondering if Sascha would ever be up for something like that, he rubbed his chin as she answered, “Sawyer said he’d come.”

  “No, I’ll come,” Devon directed. “He has too much to do tomorrow.”

  Andrei cocked a brow. “You protecting him?”

  “He protects me,” Devon said simply.

  “Who’s protecting who from what?”

  “Sawyer’s like you. He hates the doctor,” Andrei told her, his tone quiet. “Devon doesn’t mind; therefore, he’s saving Sawyer’s butt. Ain’t love sweet.”

  “Don’t mock,” Sascha retorted, reaching over to kiss Devon.

  It was always the quiet ones, Andrei thought drily, when two minutes later, Sascha moved back from Devon’s kiss after being tongue-fucked over the breakfast plate.

  She staggered back against the cupboard and pressed a hand to her chest.

  “Dear God, I’ll die before tomorrow.”

  Devon, of course, didn’t look in anyway disturbed by the kiss, but her comment had him sitting up straight. “Do you feel ill?”

  That, in turn, had Sascha straightening up. “No. Why?”

  Andrei rolled his eyes. “He thinks you were being serious about dying.”

  She blinked. “Oh, sweetie, no. I just meant I’m so horny I could freakin’ burst.”

  Devon let out a relieved breath. “That’s good to know,” he said, sounding calmer now.

  Andrei eyed him a second, amused as always by how Devon viewed the world.

  Of them all, he was the one who had the least problems with women. As was usually the case, they viewed him like Sascha did… calling him ‘sweetie’ and ‘honey’. Almost babying him. But Devon was no baby.

  He just had a different way of seeing things.

  As one of the two people in the house who could understand Devon’s intelligence—the other being Sawyer—rather than just feeling awestruck by it, Andrei could understand Devon’s thought processes better than most.

  Everything had to have a rational explanation. Nothing wasn’t founded in logic—double negative be damned.

  That logic could tread so deeply into pure theoretical math that it might beggar belief, but it would be there. A thread of reason that few else would understand.

  As a result, Devon was the most accepting of this little household of six they had going on. To him, it made perfect sense. So much so that if his parents were alive, he’d be the only one who’d share the truth with them—even though he’d loathed his father before the bastard had died. Devon saw no reason to kowtow to others’ sensibilities, and though he often groaned at the man’s lack of filter, Andrei was envious of that freedom too.

  Everything was so straightforward for Devon. No dithering, no wobbling. Just a straight yes or no.

  Andrei was actually surprised Devon had been able to hide the truth from Henry, Sascha’s dad. As he saw nothing wrong with their situation, no reason to be ashamed, it therefore computed that there was no reason to hide it from anyone

  Andrei realized that for Devon not to have broken Sascha’s request that they keep things on the downlow, he was head over heels in love with her.

  Which was an interesting concept because, as far as Andrei was aware, he’d never been in love before. They’d all fallen for Janna, but Devon had been the one who hadn’t, and he’d been the least affected by her betrayal.

  Not that any of them had realized that until recently, however. They’d treated Devon with kid gloves, worried about him and scared to mention Janna’s name… That weird brain of his had pretty much deleted the ‘Janna file’, however. Leaving the rest of them still smarting over the bitch’s betrayal, while he’d been unaffected.

  Well, that was before Sascha had come along.

  Devon had been the same with even the others who’d shared their lives before. Andrei and the rest had found themselves entangled, then hurting after they left for pastures new, while Devon was quite content to move on. Untouched, unhurt.

  It would be easy to think the man a robot, but Andrei knew more than most that the incredible person beside him was flesh and blood.

  The notion of Devon being in love made him vow to watch out for his friend. The feelings had to be confusing for someone who’d never known them before. And Devon’s reaction to Sascha’s unintended declaration that she was about to die, spoke louder than words.

  Andrei’s supposition that he was head over heels was right on the nose.

  “Andrei?” Sascha murmured.

  He blinked. “Sorry. Miles away,” he murmured when he saw both Devon and Sascha were staring at him in concern.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Sure,” he told her easily. “What were you saying?”

  “I was asking what you wanted for breakfast.”

  “Oh. Did you make some fruit salad this morning?”

  She snorted. “When don’t I? Devon’s a fruit monster. I don’t know where he puts it.”

  “Can I help that it tastes nice?” came Devon’s bewildered retort.

  Andrei chuckled. “Lies. It’s the only sugar Sawyer will let you have, and we both know it.”

  Sascha tutted. “You’ve been sleeping better, haven’t you, sweetheart?”

  Devon blinked. “I sleep.”

  He had the worst case of insomnia Andrei had ever come across. And he’d been at Oxford. Where people often went without sleep to keep up with their studies. A backward-coming-forward kind of mentality. Without sleep, one couldn’t focus. But people had a tendency of panicking under pressure. Devon never did.

  He usually did his best work when he hadn’t slept in two weeks.

  “When was the last time?” Andrei asked, both curious and concerned.

  “The last time I slept with Sascha.”

  The knife in her hand clattered against the board as she dropped it. Aghast, she whispered, “That was ten days ago.”

  “I know,” Devon murmured, sounding quite pleased by how much sleep he’d gotten. “It’s been very useful actually. I’m close to cracking that code MI6 sent me.” He rubbed his hands together. “It’s a very good game.”

  It was a testimony to how much Devon trusted Sascha that he said as much in front of her.

  Sascha, on the other hand, didn’t look as relieved by Devon’s words. She stepped around the counter and leaned against Devon as she reached up to cup his cheek with her good hand.

  “Sweetheart, I thought you were sleeping.”

  “I am.”

  Andrei cleared his throat. “How many hours did you get that night, bud?”

  “Eight.”

  Andrei whistled. “That’s a lot for him, Sa
scha.”

  “A lot?” Sascha squeaked. “I get eight every night. Not every ten days!” She closed her eyes in exasperation, then blew out a breath. “How about we have a nap together this afternoon, huh?”

  Devon mumbled, “But I’m not tired.”

  “No? Well, it will make me feel better if we get some rest.”

  Devon shot Andrei a confused look, but he just elbowed Devon in the side and said, “I wouldn’t complain. Sean’s been hogging her ever since he almost kissed her in front of Henry.”

  “True. But I’m okay, Sascha. I promise.”

  She swallowed, and Andrei saw how emotional she was at that moment. Her concern was palpable, and Andrei loved her for that. The thought was freeing. This woman loved them in different ways, ways that embraced them in their uniqueness.

  To see her caring for Devon though was like a key being turned in a lock.

  Sascha carefully cupped Devon’s cheek and murmured, “I know you’re okay, but you have to get more rest. For me? Promise?”

  Though he looked perplexed, he nodded.

  She let out a relieved sigh, but Andrei interrupted, “It might not be so easy, Sascha.” He grimaced. “It’s not as easy as him just getting into bed and sleeping.”

  “When I get my doctor’s note tomorrow, we’ll figure out a way, hmm?” she said, staring into Devon’s eyes.

  His nostrils flared. “That sounds like something I could handle.”

  She giggled, and Andrei had to hide a grin. “Glad to hear it.”

  Andrei knocked him in the side with his elbow. “Lucky bastard.”

  “There’s more than enough of me to go around,” she said sagely, laughing harder as she skipped around the counter when Andrei made to grab her. “Not in the kitchen, remember?” she chided, but her eyes were dancing. Hell, they looked on the verge of doing the damn salsa.

  He let out a growl, then settled back in his seat. Devon watched on like he was Yoda or something, overseeing the events of the crazy people.

  When she turned her back on them both to head for the fridge, she asked Devon, “Where’s Sawyer?”

  “In bed still. We were working late last night.”

  “I thought you were. I told Sean you were still up at six.”