“If my baby’s first words are ‘she fucking chose him’ I’m going to make you want me,” Dice tells him, pointing a finger in his direction. “I’m going to make you want me like you’ve never wanted anyone. I may even make you buy me fucking roses and woo me like a wooing zombie.”
“What kind of threat is that?” I muse, finding myself smiling.
It’s his favorite thing to do—defuse a volatile situation with humor.
“It’s the kind of threat no heterosexual male ever wants to hear,” he says, winking over at me.
“Any chance you’re into that? Because a three-way would be—”
“I don’t fucking share, woman!” he says, glaring at me. My stomach flutters, which is insane to say after so many months. I’m grinning like an idiot too.
As an incubus, he’s shared plenty of times, but I know I’m his and his alone. Just like he’s mine. We can joke and say whatever, but at the end of the day, it’s only the two of us.
“Hashtag—sharing is caring,” I goad him, laughing when he scowls.
“I don’t fucking care about much,” he says, pointing a finger at me. “Don’t steal my hashtags.”
He drops to his knees as Chaz continues to stalk and sulk. As Dice runs his hands over my stomach, my head somehow goes to Kya. She’s my twin. She spent too long in slavery—too long being tortured in the name of mad scientists. She’s shoved a wall between us, but I see the longing in her eyes that she tries to hide.
She wants more. She just refuses to risk having it, only to lose it all over again or find out it was never real.
“You should have told her about Alyssa.”
“And have her tell Slade?” Chaz scoffs, shaking his head. “Fuck that. If he knew Alyssa was weak right now, who knows what he’d do.”
“All you had to do was tell her and then let her know Slade could never find out. She kept your secret. She’d have kept this one too.”
His pacing stops, and his eyes narrow on me as Dice coos crazy hashtags to our little bun baking in my overheated oven.
“It was in her eyes, Chaz. She left the decision to you. You chose us. She would have chosen you if you’d chosen her first.”
His jaw tics, and he disappears from sight. Who knows where he’s going.
“I miss all the pretty glitter he used to leave behind,” I sigh.
“I’ll have him confetti the place in glitter if you’ll let me take you to bed now. I still need to try and poke dents on my baby’s head so I can tell him one day why they’re there. He’ll be scarred for life. It’ll be hashtag—epic. Hashtag—parent goals.”
I burst out laughing, unable to help myself as he waggles his eyebrows. “First of all, how does your mind go there? Secondly, he or she does not have a head yet.”
“It’ll be a boy. There’s too much testosterone going through my veins for a pussy to be attached to anything that came out of me.”
I arch an eyebrow.
“I’m hashtag—all male.”
My eyes dart down to the bulge in his pants. “That you are.”
He tugs my hand, pulling me up. “Let’s take the other cabin Zee and Gage put together. It’ll be quieter,” he tells me, pulling me to him as his lips find mine, connecting in a way that has me moaning into his mouth.
He’s everything I never knew I needed.
And sex with an incubus? Yes, please. Maybe the overuse of my vagina led to the spell weakening, because sex with Dice is like ecstasy fireworks going off in my womb all day every day.
He threads our fingers together, and he puts a dagger in a sheath on his hip like walking the few hundred feet is going to need protection. I grin in spite of him, watching as he looks out for any danger lurking.
A squirrel apparently looks shady, because Dice grips the dagger, prepared to fight it off if necessary.
When a giggle bubbles up, Dice moves quicker, tugging me behind him.