49. Ariel - Fantasy 1
49. Ariel - Fantasy 1
“One night, after drinking more than we should have, Michael, Rheon, or whatever the fuck his name is, let it slip that he is the son of the Werewolf King. No one is stupid enough to kill the only heir of King Corvin,” Elijah explains.
Except Ivan, since I doubt he knows who Rheon really is, but a small part of me hopes Elijah is right.
“What happens when Rheon can’t talk or refuses to use his connection with his father to save his life?” I wonder.
“Rheon is smart. He will find a way to stay safe,” Elijah replies.
For Rheon and Misty’s sake, I hope Elijah is right.
“So, to be sure, you don’t know where the ship is, but you are looking for it,” I say, wanting to be sure that I got everything right.
“The only thing you should worry about is getting better,” says Khai.
He is not wrong.
I should focus on healing, and once I’m better, I will try to find Rheon and Misty. I owe them that much since they are the only reason why I’m not on that ship anymore. And Mindy suffered a lot because of my refusal to fuck clients.
Ivan will pay for everything. I will make sure of it.
The next few days pass without incident. The guys are endlessly attentive, leaving my side only when they absolutely have to. At first, I try to push them away, but when they don’t budge, I give in and let them pamper me. I can’t deny how much I enjoy it—maybe more than I should. And that scares me, because little by little, I’ve stopped obsessing over which one of them doesn’t want me. I only remember when I catch them lost in thought, but the moment they sense my gaze, their sweet kisses make me forget everything except them.
And the worst part? I’m so in love with them, it feels like I can’t breathe when they’re not around.
It takes three days for the wound to stop bothering me.
On the fourth morning since I woke in their new apartment, Khai catches me climbing out of bed without help.
“What are you doing, Muffin?” he asks, hurrying over.
I stop him with a raised hand. “I got this.”
I make it to the bathroom on my own. After washing my face, I pause in front of the mirror before brushing out my hair.
Elijah bought me new glasses two days ago, something Killian immediately disapproved of, since I no longer depend on them like before. His sulking didn’t last long, though. Not after I told him I’d happily play damsel in distress with him whenever he wanted.
While I’m brushing my teeth, there’s a knock on the door followed by Khai’s voice.
“I’m going to make breakfast. Do you want bacon and eggs?”
“Sounds good,” I reply.
Five minutes later, I join him in the kitchen. It’s only the two of us at home since Elijah and Killian got a lead on where the ship might now be and went to see if they can find it, while Asher is at the gym. He spends at least two hours there daily, which I’m not complaining about since he looks… yummy. All of them do, which makes me feel bad, since I look… average. I bet the woman Elijah’s dad insists they take as a mate is stunning. I tried to ask about her, but each time I bring it up, Elijah shuts it down, refusing to give me any details, no matter how small they might be.
After breakfast, Khai washes the dishes, and I dry them before storing them away.
“Do you want to watch a movie?” he asks when we are done cleaning the kitchen.
Before I can reply, his phone buzzes with an incoming text. Khai glances at the screen, and for a moment his expression shifts—too quick for me to read.
“There’s something wrong?” I ask.
Khai’s thumb lingers over the screen before he locks the phone and sets it face down on the counter. “Nothing you need to worry about, Muffin.”
I don’t believe him—not when none of them has been fully truthful with me—but I force myself to pretend.
“A movie sounds good,” I say, circling back to his earlier question.
“Actually,” Khai replies, slipping his phone into his pocket, “I need to run to the store and grab a few ingredients for dinner.” Before he heads for the front door, he adds. “Asher will be home in a couple of minutes.”
These past few days, I’ve never been left alone in the apartment, which only makes me wonder—am I in danger? And if so, why? Who wants to harm me? Elijah’s father? Ivan? Or… Noctyros?
Khai kisses me deeply and whispers against my lips, “I love you, Ariel,” before he leaves.
With nothing else to do, I head to the living room, sink onto the sofa, and flip through a magazine. Minutes later, I toss it aside, realizing how much I hate being home alone. The silence presses down on me, heavy and suffocating, until I finally decide to do a little exploring.
Each of them likes to keep their own space in the house, and curiosity gets the better of me. I want to see what treasures they’re hiding behind those doors—so I step into the dragons’ lairs.
I start with Asher’s room, since it’s closest to the living room.
His bed isn’t made, which makes me smile—I always thought he was a clean freak. A few clothes lie tossed near the bathroom door.
On his nightstand sits an ugly mug, and it takes me a moment to realize why it looks so familiar—it’s the one he and I made the night I first met them. I’d honestly forgotten all about it, but clearly Asher hadn’t. He treasured it. Happiness swells in my chest, and for a fleeting second, I wonder if I only imagined overhearing that conversation between two of my mates.
Maybe I made it up.
Maybe…
Hope is a cruel thing.
Next to the mug is a framed picture. I pick it up. It’s of Asher and me, though I don’t remember when it was taken. We’re at the penthouse, by the pool. I’m sitting on his lap, smiling at the camera, while he gazes at me like I’m his entire world.
Suddenly, the front door creaks open, followed by Asher’s cheerful voice echoing through the apartment. “I’m home!”
Panic surges through me. Not wanting to get caught snooping in his room, I dart into his closet, heart pounding, and pray he won’t find me.
Asher enters his room, and through the crack in the closet doors, I watch him. He’s drenched in sweat from the gym—not that I mind. He looks ridiculously sexy. Yeah, Asher’s one of those guys who looks hot no matter what.
I bite down on my bottom lip as he strips off his clothes before heading into the shower.
I should stay still—especially since I’m not fully healed—but something deep inside me aches to press against him, to rub myself over every inch of his body until our skins are one.
Not long after the water starts running, I slip out of the closet and quietly push open the bathroom door. Through the fogged glass of the shower, I catch sight of Asher’s back.
Then I hear it—the low, strangled sounds he’s making. It doesn’t take me long to realize… he’s touching himself. Masturbating.
I should be here, invading his privacy, but my legs refuse to cooperate. So I do what every sane woman would do in my place.
I slip my hand into my shorts and pleasure myself to the sound of Asher’s grunts.
My eyes close as I imagine Asher’s fingers rubbing my clit while his mouth is teasing my nipples.
It feels so good. A moan rises to my throat, but I push it back, not wanting Asher to hear.
“Let me hear you,” Asher’s voice pulls me out of my fantasy.
The next update will be on Saturday.