Page 52 of The Witch's Heart
“They waited until we were alone to attack,” Declan adds. His eyes are haunted as he says, “We each managed to take out a couple of them, but in the end, they were stronger.”
I reach for Declan’s hand and bring both him and Dean closer. “I’m so sorry,” I say, my heart breaking for them both. I remember the longing in their eyes when they spoke about their pack, about the family bond it created. What a horror to have to choose between your family and your twin. Of course, there was no choice, not really, but the loss must hurt deeply nonetheless.
They look at each other again, sharing some silent communication, and then Declan grips me more tightly. “Even if we make it out of here, we won’t go back. You’re our pack now. And we will do whatever we must to keep you safe, little witch.”
“Declan’s right,” Dean says, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “We both claim you.” He looks from me to his brother, eyes bright with a ferocity he rarely lets slip. “Together.”
Declan nods at him. “Together.”
I suck in my breath and exhale deeply. His words penetrate so many layers of pain, fear, and worry that I feel both broken and mended at once upon hearing them. Tears blur my vision and I lean my head against Declan’s chest as Dean’s arms slip around my waist. Their warmth surrounds me, and I know together we can get through anything. I have to believe that.
Estelle is my family, but family isn’t just blood, I’m learning. It’s also about bond. About soul connections.
We stand there for some time, until I pull away and wipe my eyes.
I need to decompress before I can figure out what to do next. My mind feels clear for the first time since I arrived here, and I’m glad we aren't trapped in dungeon cells anymore. Our lives are still living hell, but at least we have more creature comforts for the time being, and we have each other. A sudden craving for something totally normal seizes me.
"Let's watch a movie," I suggest.
This is the last thing either of them expect, and they both look at me like I've lost my damn mind.
"Come on, guys," I say, sliding off the bed and grabbing their hands to pull them with me. "We can't be serious and broodingallthe time. It's not healthy."
Dean chuckles at that, letting me pull him towards the couch. "I can't remember when I last watched something," he says. "It could be… interesting."
Declan sighs and begrudgingly lets me guide him onto the cushion by my side. "Fine. But don't expect me to enjoy it. I fundamentally refuse to enjoy anything about this place."
I take a step closer to him, closing the distance between us, pressing my body against his in ways that light a fire in my gut and definitely get his attention.
"Are you sure there'snothingyou could enjoy here?" I ask, surprising myself with such forwardness. Not that I haven't had my flirtations and affairs in the past, but since Estelle died, it was like that part of me died with her. Now… now she's alive, and I'm finally reminded that I'm still alive too.
And for the first time since that night in my bathroom, I'm actually glad of it.
A deep growl rumbles in Declan's chest as he raises his hand to cup my face, our lips inches apart. "Watch it, witch-girl. Or I might take you seriously."
His dark green eyes melt me, and I stop fighting what I've been feeling for both of them since I got here. "I want you to take me seriously," I say, breathless with how badly I want it. And him.
Without another word, his hand slips to cup the back of my head, his fingers twining through my hair as he brings his lips to mine.
I reach behind me, grabbing Dean's hand and guiding it to my waist as Declan's mouth claims mine.
This isn't a kiss that starts slow and builds.
This is a kiss made of fire and desire, a kiss that burns right into the soul.
I feel Dean's chest pressed against my back, Declan's at my front, and when Dean's mouth drops to my neck, I moan into Declan's mouth, fighting my grip on Dean's hand and digging my nails into Declan's back as their passion scorches me until all I feel is them.
We might have stayed that way a thousand years. Time has lost all meaning, but when someone knocks at our door, Dean steps away, creating a draft at my back, and Declan nips at my bottom lip before pulling away, his hand dropping to mine as the door opens.
Sir enters with a cart piled high with covered trays. Dean goes to meet him and Sir hands off three trays before retreating without a word.
Dean sets them on the dresser and lifts off the lids. Steam wafts up from the hot food underneath.
"Bloody oath, you really have upgraded our prison experience," Declan says, whistling at the selection of meats, fruits, and exotic cheeses laid out. He shrugs. "Might as well enjoy it while it lasts."
My body is buzzing with pent up sexual energy, but my stomach rumbles its complaints and I realize how hungry I am. The three of us take a seat on the couch with me in the middle, and I flip on the television as Dean plates our food for us.
Flipping through the channels—which aren't many—I settle on a surprise find. "This is the best version ofThe Count of Monte CristoI've ever seen," I tell them, turning up the volume. "You'll love it."
