Page 19 of Princess of Vengeance

“See?” I reach for Atlas’s hand, threading my fingers through his. “I’m fine. Stop looking at me like you almost killed me.”

“You’re not fine,” he argues, but his thumb strokes over my knuckles. “You passed out.”

“Yeah, but in the sexy way, not the dying way.”

Nico snorts. “I didn’t know there were different ways to pass out…”

“There’s a huge difference,” I shrug, then wince as Killian prods a particularly tender spot. “The sexy way means I got to come first.”

“Jesus Christ,” Killian mutters, but there’s a hint of a grin on his face now. “You two are practically the same person.”

Atlas’s grip on my hand tightens. “Yeah,” he says roughly. “We are.”

I don’t even try to deny it. I just squeeze his hand back, trying to let him know without words that I don’t regret a single fucking second. I needed this—needed him—exactly the way it played out. From the way his eyes soften as they meet mine, I’m pretty sure he understands.

“I’m still gonna kick your ass if you try this again before she heals,” Killian warns, but there’s no bite in his tone anymore.

“Noted,” Atlas says without looking away from me.

I reach up, my fingers finding the place on Atlas’s torso where his stitches used to be—the ones from Ambrose’s torture. “Remember these?” My fingertips trace the fresh scars. “You begged me to fuck you with these still in. If you get to risk being hurt for me, I get to do the same for you.”

His hand covers mine where it rests just below his chest, and for a moment we just look at each other, sharing an understanding that goes beyond words.

The moment breaks when I shift and feel the sticky, half-dried cum between my thighs. Even though Atlas clearly tried to clean me up while I was out, I still feel messy. “I need a shower,” I mutter, pushing myself to sit up.

All three men move at once. Atlas’s hand goes to my back, Killian reaches for my arm, and Nico steps closer, blocking my path to the bathroom.

“Seriously?” I look at the three of them in turn. “I can take a fucking shower by myself.”

“Like hell you can,” Killian says. “You just passed out.”

“Yeah, like ten minutes ago.”

“Five,” Atlas corrects. “And that’s not helping your case.”

I look to Nico for support, but he just crosses his arms. “Don’t even try it, mia cara. One of us is going in there with you.”

“Or all of us,” Killian adds with a shrug. “The bathroom is kind of small though.”

“For fuck’s sake.” I throw up my hands. “Fine. One of you can come make sure I don’t drown in the shower. Happy now?”

Somehow, we all end up crowding into the small bathroom together. Nico strips and steps into the shower with me while Atlas and Killian hover near the sink, neither willing to leave.

“This is ridiculous,” I mutter, but I have to admit—within the privacy of my own thoughts, at least—that I love the way they love me. The way they care about what happens to me.

Nico’s hands are gentle as he peels away my bandages, but there’s still a hint of disapproval in his tone. “What’s ridiculous is the way you keep acting like you’re fucking invincible all the time.” He examines each wound carefully before starting to clean them. “Hold still, mia cara.”

“I’m pretty sure you don’t have any room to talk when it comes to acting invincible,” I point out, hissing when the water hits one of the wounds.

He mutters something in Italian that doesn’t sound like he agrees, but he doesn’t try to stop me when I lean into his touch. His hands move over me, washing away the remnants of blood and sweat and sex. His touch is thorough but chaste, even though I’d just as happily let him—then Killian, then Atlas again—fuck me into a coma. There’s nothing sexual about this shower though. Just care.

“Are you good?” he murmurs when he notices me swaying slightly.

“Yeah,” I breathe, grateful for his steadiness as a wave of dizziness hits me. “Just…”

“I’ve got you.” His arm wraps around my waist, holding me up.

I should feel vulnerable like this. I’m completely naked, wounded, and weaker than I’ve ever been. But surrounded by these three men? These dangerous, deadly men who look at me like I’m the most important thing in the world?

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