Page 114 of Reaper's Pack

“Did you all miss me today?” I asked—moaned, more like, the sound bound to entice the hellhounds closing in on every side. Reaper business had occupied me since this morning, which had left the pack to fend for themselves in my absence. They were good at it now, taking care of each other, fixing meals that didn’t just consist of raw meat, but after the Charon debacle, the four of us all preferred to be within an arm’s reach.

Because frankly, the memories of that day cut deeper, scarred harder, than any physical injury.

Declan’s ragged screams, his back split beneath Charon’s whip.

Gunnar’s body jittering and contorting, his spine nearly breaking, the awful dance accompanied by that warlock’s cruel laughter.

Knox’s hands, bony and bloody, the resolve in his eyes as he croaked what he thought—what I feared—were his final words.

If I had it my way, I would never be apart from these three hellhounds again. Never. But the world we found ourselves in didn’t work that way, and for now I’d suffer the nightmares of those images on my own, just as I savored whatever time we had together with a smile on my lips and in my heart.

Really though. Nightmares. For the first time in my afterlife, I was afraid to fall asleep—terrified of memories so vivid that it was like we were all back there reliving it.

They would pass in time, as all things did; I kept them to myself, preferring to live in a bubble of sex and love and relief that we were all together again. Each one of us a little broken, sure, but together, we were whole.

A second pair of lips found my skin, and where Knox had been all teeth and force, Declan was subtle and soft, confident in the lazy way his mouth dragged along my flesh, tickled my sides, nibbled at my belly.

“Always and forever, sweet,” he murmured against my thighs. Knox leaned back on his elbows, watching the scene unfold before him like a king on his throne, his eyes a brilliant obsidian that I locked onto, even as I threaded my hand into Declan’s hair. The hellhound at my thighs flicked his tongue over my clit, the caress featherlight, a sinful tease, and I looked down at him with a hapless moan. He grinned up at me, slowly parting my legs and settling between them, one over each of his shoulders. “For as long as we love you, Hazel, we’ll always miss you.”

The notion brought tears to my eyes, just as it had the first time we whispered sweet nothings to one another in the aftermath. As soon as Knox and Declan regained consciousness, I’d told them—fervently—that I loved them with every fiber of my being. Gunnar’s had been a quiet declaration, the two of us entangled on Knox’s armchair after Angelus left, watching our pack sleep away the trauma. He had whispered it against my neck; I had murmured it against his lips.

Declan’s tongue swept the full length of my sex, delving between my slick folds, not stopping at the first swirl around my clit. Pleasure bloomed behind my eyelids, and I arched up with a moan, my hand twisting in his hair. Just one touch and he could melt me.

“O-oh,” I stammered, undulating against his mouth, my thighs trembling over his shoulders. “My loves—”

Gunnar’s snort cut me off. “So sappy, all of you.”

A sharp slap had me giggling, though I wasn’t sure who had swatted at who, but when I stole a peek, I found Gunnar shedding his sweatpants. His cock jutted out at a perfect right angle, eager for some attention.

“Even if we didn’t miss you, per se,” Gunnar carried on as he climbed onto the bed, crawling past Declan and up my body. His strong hand cupped my breast, plucking at my nipple even with our gazes locked. “How else are we supposed to act when you strut in here stark naked?”

“How do you think I feel all the time? You lot are always naked,” I snapped, trailing off with a sharp breath that Gunnar muffled the moment he slammed his mouth to mine. When Declan eased a finger into me and stroked my inner walls, a delicious shiver sleuthed down my spine, languid as the lightest rain droplet parachuting down the windowpane.

You’d think I would be accustomed to the touch of multiple lovers, but the thrill hadn’t dimmed even a little. Declan lapping expertly at my sex, his fingertips bruising my hips; Gunnar kissing me like he wanted to consume me, his hand tangled in my hair; Knox watching it all unfold with such keen interest, waiting patiently, biding his time until he could really take me…

It would never get old, never lose its thrill. How could it when my body responded like it was made for the passions of more than one?

I came apart at the seams under their undivided attention, and Declan kissed me just as deeply as Gunnar when I reached my breaking point, fucking me with his tongue. He groaned, gripping my hips hard, thrusting as deep as he could while pleasure erupted from my core and radiated out like a nuclear shock wave. I cried out into Gunnar’s mouth, one hand clutching at his wiry bicep, the other fisted into Declan’s hair. Their movements quickened, mouths working me from both ends, threatening to swallow me whole as I writhed through my first climax of the night.

But not the last. Experience had taught me that. Was it fate that made them capable of playing my body like a finely tuned instrument? Because they were just so fucking good at it, their fingers, tongues, cocks skilled to a fault.

Stars still danced across my eyes when Declan withdrew, a rush of cool air brushing over my wetness, arousal smeared over my thighs, across his mouth. Without speaking, the pair of hellhounds found a rhythm in their manipulation of my body, Declan rolling me onto my belly and lifting me onto my knees just as Gunnar settled in front of me, the head of his cock teasing my lips. Flushed from head to toe, I found my steps in this complex little dance, arching my hips and my back for Declan, offering myself freely, and sweeping my tongue across my lower lip with a coquettish flutter of my eyelashes for Gunnar.

The hellhound before me swallowed hard, the bulge in his throat bobbing. He was always so talkative, but I was learning how to silence him with subtle movements, with the promise of my surrender.

It was electrifying to somehow be submissive to three ravenous hellhounds, but also completely in control, one word from me capable of bringing this all to a crashing halt—or taking us to spectacular heights.

I’d only just gripped the base of Gunnar’s shaft when Declan plunged into me from behind, filling me with a single powerful stroke. Moaning, I fumbled forward, burying my face in the blankets for a moment as I adjusted to the sizeable intrusion. Only I wasn’t allowed a moment to myself: Declan’s hand wove into my hair, and without any real force, he guided me back up and positioned me over Gunnar’s cock. There was beauty in softness, and Declan was a master at it.

An incoherent flood of nonsense spilled from Gunnar’s mouth as soon as I wrapped my lips around his silky tip, sucking it with enough force to make his hips buck. My grin had the hellhound at my mercy scowling—had Knox chuckling—and at a pace that was perhaps painfully slow for him, I took him inch by inch into my mouth. Declan, meanwhile, ground against my backside, one hand at the nape of my neck, the other at my hip.

They were good at sharing, Gunnar and Declan. In fact, they almost always shared me, taking turns to occupy whatever part of me called to them in the heat of the moment. Knox, meanwhile, usually seemed content to watch, to sit back and allow his pack to ravish me before his eyes, his cock straining when the others finally handed me over.

I flicked my eyes in his direction; a voyeur, my alpha love. Had he always been keen to watch before, or was it a pleasure reserved just for me, for us?

We three found our rhythm in time: Gunnar sprawled back on his elbows, his cheeks hollow like he was biting down on them as I pumped half his length with my fist and teased the other half with my tongue. The up-and-down motion of my head set the pace for Declan, thrusting in and out of me at the same pace, his breath strained—like it killed him to go so slow and steady.

That thrilled me too.

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