“Yeah, it’s a little surreal but nice. Like, oh shit, I’m not insane.”
“Exactly.” He grins and it’s almost heart-stopping. “I’m not here as a betrayal to Demetria, although she would probably see it that way. Increasingly her delusions seem bigger—deeper. I’m worried about her. The gala was totally out of control. Using her powers like that in public?”
“She had the Pixie Dust to protect her.”
“And a lot of public relations damage control. It gave Kincade a chance to slip in with the Mayor. I don’t know what will happen if he wins those properties.”
“She’ll lose her freaking mind, won’t she? You know, relatively speaking.”
“Yep. She and Kincade are already playing with fire. Literally. More people will get hurt.” He looks at her intently. “You could get hurt.”
“What do we need to do?” she asks. “Have it called off? Alert the Mayor? The police?”
“I think we let it go on as planned and just give Demetria what she needs for tomorrow. She needs a day to shine. She loves this city so much and this is a good thing.”
“You just want us to pander to her.”
“I want you to let her have her day and we’ll use it to shut down Kincade—the legal way.”
“Do you have a plan for that?” Because she sure as hell doesn’t. Not without placing them all in trouble.
“Yeah, I think I do.”
Astrid studies him for a moment, eager to hear his plan, but there’s something she has to ask first.
“I know she’s into this Lost Boy thing, but does she treat you okay? Because you know there are other options out there. You’re not alone.”
His crystal blue eyes burn into hers. “She’s intense. Demanding and often on the edge. She saved me from a very lonely, desperate place. I owe her, and I appreciate her. I want to help her.”
Astrid squeezes his hand. “She was my friend, too. I want to help her as well. But I won’t back down if she forces my hand.”
“I don’t want you to. Why do you think I set all this up?”
His smile is genuine and the emotions that roll off of him are hard to handle. He’s pure. His motives true. It’s a lot for Astrid to deal with but it’s also easy. There are no shades with Draco. Just honesty.
He squeezes her hand back and says, “Let’s figure out how to turn this situation around, because if we leave it up to her, all hell is going to break loose.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Owen
Astrid may be stubborn, a terrible eater, and a filthy slob, but she’s not stupid.
She may have gone out alone that night to check on the kid from the fire, but she turned on her mask and com. Instead of playing video games, the men watched as she crept through Crescent Homes and watched as she realized Draco was following her.
“I knew it,” Quinn mutters later. They’d left the Lair once she was safely on her way back home. She and Casper were in contact. And they’d decided to head up to the apartment to check on Luby before she left. “I knew there was more to him when I fought him.”
“She did too, I guess. Which is why she read him at the party.”
Owen stretches out on the couch. It’s been a long day. A long week. Tomorrow is going to be insane. So many things could go wrong with their plan. Both Kincade and Demetria were wild cards. “Do you think he’s legit?”
“I think Astrid trusts him,” Quinn says. He sits on the opposite end.
“Yeah,” he agrees. “It looks that way.”
Quinn turns on the TV, flipping through the channels. He passes two news reports about the parade. Casper will record them to go over tomorrow before the event. To Owen’s surprise, he stops on a cartoon.
“Really?” he asks as a talking unicorn comes on screen.
“Shit. Sorry. I was trying to avoid the news.”
Down the hall, the door opens and Astrid’s footsteps carry down the hall. She speaks in a quiet voice which is followed by Harry meowing back. Owen rolls his eyes and Quinn laughs.
“Hey,” she says, standing in the doorway. She’s in a white, tight, V-neck Elite T-shirt and red shorts. Her thin gloves cover her hands. “You watch the feed?”
“Yeah,” Owen says, patting the cushion next to him. “You okay with it all?”
She nods. “Can we talk about it tomorrow?”
“Sure,” Quinn says, watching her walk past him to the kitchen where they can hear the sound of crinkling snack bags and the hiss of soda. She comes back in the room, chugging the bottle of Mountain Dew, and stands before them. Harry winds between her legs, tail flipping.
Her shirt is ridiculously tight—two sizes too small. She probably likes the way it feels, the tight compression against her skin, but all it does is accentuate the dark circles of her nipples, and the raised peaks where they rub against the fabric.
Owen’s eyes skim down her legs at the tight shorts covering her ass. She’s oblivious. Maybe. He knows she can sense everything about them. Their heart rates. Their scent. She can probably hear the blood rushing to their balls. Yeah, their. Because there is no way Quinn’s not feeling it too.
She reaches down and pets her cat, giving them a wide view of her cleavage. “Well, I’m headed to bed, see you in the morning.” Her next move is to step over the cat to give Quinn a kiss on the cheek. Her hand lingers on his shoulder. His cheeks flush and his eyes are glued to her chest, and when she turns to the do the same to Owen he snaps, grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her on the couch.
She looks up at him with raised eyebrows and a small smirk.
“I don’t know what game you’re playing, Astrid, but I do think it’s dangerous.”
“You don’t know?” she bats her eyelashes and glances between the two men. “Really?”
He doesn’t blink. He doesn’t hesitate. He just kisses her, right there on the couch, right there next to Quinn. And when her hand reaches over to the other man he kisses her harder, encouraging her, because that is where she wants this to go and he’s known for weeks. Now he’s willing to take whatever journey she plans on leading him on.
She pulls away from Owen and faces Quinn. “You okay with this?” she asks, which is interesting that she didn’t ask Owen. But maybe enough has transpired between them for that to be clear.
“I am,” Quinn says quietly, eyes glued to hers. She licks her lips and brings him in for a kiss; it’s gentle and her hand that is intertwined with Owen’s releases, dropping to his lap. He’s already hard, turned on by the entire scene. He’s not sure how far this will go tonight, but he wants to make one thing certain: this is about Astrid. Not them.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Quinn
When Quinn finally comes up for air, Owen makes a quick move, dragging Astrid back against his chest. His friend exhales when her backside presses against his crotch, a signal of slight relief but more frustration. Quinn has never understood a man’s motivation as much as he has in this moment. He doesn’t need Astrid’s empathic abilities to know what Owen is feeling. He’s consumed by it too, intense want. Overwhelming desire.
She leans back into Owen, grinding against him, and he presses his lips to her neck. Quinn isn’t sure where to go from here. This is definitely new to him—surely, new to her, but Astrid is brave—exciting. And this has been building for days, if not weeks.
“Hey,” she says, calling him over with a bent finger, “come here.”
He scoots closer, acutely aware of the hardening of his cock, the way it bulges in his shorts. Her eyes dart downward, probably sensing his thoughts, and she touches his face and her hands travel down his cheeks to his chest.
Her eyes brighten, dilating and constricting with every beat of his heart. Owen’s hands move to her breasts, kneading them with his hands, tugging at the hem of her shirt and revealing her flat stomach.