Page 29 of Wrath

I wanted to call for them to come back. To ask them what happened when I was away. To figure out how Dair had ended up back in the wheelchair.

But my tongue turned to cotton in my mouth.

Only Bash remained, his firm lips pressed together in a way that almost resembled a pout.

“Don’t you dare kick me out, brother,” Bash said firmly, snaking an arm around my waist. He walked us both backwards until he sat on the edge of the cot with me in his lap. “I just went through a bunch of shit, and I need to feel my girl in my arms.”

The butterflies in my chest went crazy at his dogmatic declaration.

Ryland stalked towards me like a man possessed, his head lowered, his hands fisted by his sides, his breathing erratic. The shadows trailed after him in a way that almost reminded me of fire—dark, inky flames that haloed his body.

I preferred it when I could see his face, though I knew he hated his scars. There was something so…genuine about Ryland, from his intense blue eyes, to the stubble grazing his jawline, to the proud set of his lips.

And just then, he was homing in on me with the acute awareness of a hunter stalking prey. I felt like a rabbit staring down a notched bow.

“We didn’t know what happened to you,” Ryland rasped, shaking out his hands. He shifted his attention to Bash behind me. “Either of you.”

“There’s a lot we need to tell you guys,” I said. “And I think there’s a lot you need to tell us. What happened while we were gone? Why is Dair back in the wheelchair? Why?—”

“Later,” Ryland growled, gripping my chin between his thumb and forefinger and dragging my head up.

He applied the slightest bit of pressure—enough to make me gasp in surprise—and then he lowered his head.

But he didn’t kiss me.

He merely stared at me, his lips hovering over mine, the air stirring with an acrimonious tension between us.

Bash began to kiss my neck, starting just beneath my ear.

“I can’t lose you, Z,” Ryland whispered in a voice husky with emotion. “I won’t.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, though I wasn’t sure if that was the appropriate response.

It wasn’t as if I could control what happened during these trials.

Though it was worrying that time moved differently while we were there…wherever there was.

What if I lost an entire month during the next trial? A year? Ten years?

The thought sent panic spiraling through me, causing my heart to race.

But before I could descend into a never-ending plethora of “what if” questions, Bash bit down on my neck, tugging the skin between his teeth.

I gasped and arched against him. I could feel his cock digging into me from below.

Ryland abruptly released my face and straightened to his full height, towering over me. His ice-blue eyes roamed over my face—cataloging my parted lips, flushed cheeks, and glazed-over eyes, currently hooded from pleasure and anticipation.

“I won’t leave you, Ryland,” I whispered as Bash slid my shirt to the side so he had better access to my shoulder.

“Prove it,” my shadow hissed, and a rush of heat shot straight to my core.

Feeling bold, I reached for the waistband of his pants and slid them down his thighs, stopping only when his thick cock sprang free. He was commando, which wasn’t a surprise, given the lack of clothing in the camp.

I grabbed the base and began to stroke him, rubbing my thumb over the precum on the tip.

Ryland’s expression shuttered, and his lashes fluttered against his cheeks. He tilted his head back with a moan that had my legs clenching together.

I stopped only once to help Bash pull my shirt over my head.

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