Seraphina's Point of View
A shiver ran down my spine.
Us.
The word hung in the air, heavy with implication.
My friends had told me stories that afternoon between mouthfuls of takeout and laughter that tried to look like hope. They didn't know what my insides felt like; no one did. They only knew the map of my fear and drew roads through it… "you have to," "you should," "it'll change things."
They described warmth and closeness like the weather report for a place I'd never visited, as if I could buy a ticket and arrive whole.
I wasn't sure what I wanted from the night.
To be honest: I wanted to feel anything that was not the slow, clinical tick of a countdown. I wanted a voice in my ear that would make me believe I might want to stay.
I tore my gaze from his and let it flicker to the other two men, my mind racing. My heart hammered against my ribs.
Choice.
The word echoed in my skull, mocking me.
I had come here to forget. To feel. To burn away the memory of Adrian's hands on Kara's skin, the doctor's pitying eyes, the weight of my own expiration date pressing down on my chest like a tombstone.
But this?
This was something else entirely. This was a precipice. A jump into the unknown.
A dare.
I wet my lips, my voice trembling but my gaze steady. "All of you."
The words hung between us, electric.
The gray-eyed man's smirk deepened, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass. "Bold." His voice was a low hum, the kind that vibrated through marrow. "But are you sure?"
The third man… cold, untouchable, finally shifted, his dark eyes flickering with something that sent another wave of heat through me. "This isn't a game, little muse." His voice was deep, rough, like gravel under boot heels. "Once you step into our world, there's no walking back out."
I should have been scared.
I was scared.
But for the first time in months, I was also alive.
The first man's thumb pressed harder into my wrist, his lips brushing mine in a whisper of a kiss that wasn't a kiss at all. "Last chance to run."
I didn't.
I couldn't.
Because for the first time since I'd heard the words terminal, inoperable, no cure, I wanted something more than oblivion.
I wanted them.
I wanted the way they looked at me… like I was prey, like I was a challenge, like I was something worth ruining.
I wanted the way my body responded to them, traitorous and hungry, my skin too tight, my breath too shallow, my thighs aching with a need I'd never let myself acknowledge before.
I wanted to be consumed.
"No running," I whispered.
The first man's smile turned feral. "Good girl."
And then his mouth was on mine.
It wasn't gentle.
It wasn't sweet.
It was fire.
His lips crashed into mine, demanding, possessive, his tongue sweeping into my mouth like he owned it. I gasped, my fingers clutching at his shirt, my body arching into his without permission. He tasted like sin and whiskey, like dark promises and darker secrets, and I drowned in it.
A low growl rumbled in his chest as his free hand slid down my back, gripping my hip hard enough to bruise. I moaned into his mouth, the sound swallowed by his hunger, by the way his teeth nipped at my lower lip before soothing the sting with his tongue.
Oh God.
I had never been kissed like this, like I was something to be devoured. Like I was the last meal of a starving man.
And then… a hand on my thigh.
Fingers trailing up, up, up, under the hem of my skirt, calloused and sure.
I tore my mouth from his with a gasp, my eyes flying open to meet the gray-eyed man's gaze. He was watching me with a smirk, his fingers inching higher, higher.
"Easy, darling," he murmured, his voice a dark caress. "We've got all night."
The third man, still seated, still watching, leaned forward, his voice a blade wrapped in silk. "But first…"
His hand shot out, gripping my chin, forcing me to look at him.
And then his mouth was on mine.
Where the first man was fire, this one was ice.
His kiss was controlled, precise, his lips moving against mine with a skill that made my toes curl. His hand slid into my hair, tilting my head just so, deepening the kiss until I was dizzy, until I forgot my own name.
The first man's fingers tightened on my hip, his breath hot against my neck. "Fuck, you taste even better than you look."
The gray-eyed man's fingers finally reached their destination, his thumb brushing over the damp fabric of my panties. I jerked, a broken sound escaping me, but his mouth never left mine. He swallowed it. Owned it.
"So responsive," he murmured against my lips, his fingers pressing just there, just enough to make my hips buck. "I wonder how loud you'll scream when we finally get you naked."
A whimper tore from my throat.
The third man pulled back, his dark eyes burning. "Patience, Lucian."
Lucian.
The name suited the gray-eyed man… elegant, dangerous, mythic.
The first man, still pressed against me, his erection hard against my stomach chuckled. "Since when do you believe in patience, Draven?"
Draven. The cold, untouchable one.
Draven's fingers tightened in my hair. "Since she's ours to break."
My breath hitched.
Ours.
The word sent another wave of heat through me, my body throbbing with a need I didn't understand, didn't care to understand.
Lucian's fingers circled again, slower this time, torturous. "What do you think, princess?" His voice was a dark purr. "Can you take all three of us? Or are you going to tap out before we even begin?"
I should have been embarrassed.
I should have been terrified.
But the way they looked at me, like I was the only thing in the world worth their time, worth their hunger, made me bold.
I met Lucian's gaze, my voice barely a whisper. "Try me."
His smirk turned wicked. "Oh, we will."
And then, the first man, who still hadn't told me his name, gripped my wrist and yanked me toward the exit.
"She's a fine one, Azriel."
Azriel… I looked at him, eyes roaming his face, scanning his delicate features. The name suited him.
The night air hit my skin, cool and sharp, but it did nothing to dampen the fire burning inside me.
Lucian's arm wrapped around my waist, his lips brushing my ear. "Last chance to change your mind."
I looked at Draven, his dark eyes unreadable.
Then, at the first man, his storm-blue gaze burning with promise.
And then I smiled.
"Game on."