Blood of Eve (Trilogy of Eve 2)

Roark’s sleepy brogue slurred through the silence. “Was beginning to think ye kidnapped her again, Doc.”

I tensed. He sounded drunk. Even so, it was too soon to joke about what happened.

Michio reversed his steps, moving backward toward the door, and lifted his elbow along the wall. “I can see you were real concerned about it.”

Amusement sifted through his voice as he bumped the light switch and flooded the room in a soft glow.

“Right.” Roark squinted at the ceiling light. “I was going to come after ye, but this big hairy fella”—his arm fell over Jesse’s chest—“got me shitfaced and tried to root the hole off me. Lovely it was.”

Jesse made an exasperated noise and shoved Roark’s arm away as he sat up. He wore a black pair of briefs, while Roark lay stark nude, stretched out and taking up half of the pushed-together queen-sized beds, as if he’d fallen there and hadn’t moved.

The sound of his snores filled the room. He went from speaking to snoring? Jesus, how much had he drank?

As Michio carried me back to the bed, I raised a brow at Jesse.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Jesse stabbed a hand through his hair and glanced at Roark. “I couldn’t get him to put pants on let alone separate him from his whiskey.”

Roark’s loud breaths suddenly stilled. “I’m Oirish, ye fecking skanger.”

“Well, that explains everything.” Jesse’s tone couldn’t have been drier, but affection warmed his gaze as he regarded Roark’s closed-eyed, slacked face.

Roark responded with a soft snore, perhaps dreaming of shamrocks, blarney stones, and drinking Bushmills with leprechauns.

I tightened my arms around Michio’s shoulders, my chest lifting with a surreal sense of peace. Last year, I was certain they’d never get along. This morning, I was convinced I’d never see them again. Would they always prove me wrong?

Michio scooted us into the bed, settling me between him and Jesse, with his long body clinging to the edge.

He looked at Roark’s sprawled position on the other side of Jesse. “He’s taking up half the bed, and we should roll him to his side in case he pukes.”

The towel around Michio’s waist threatened to slip off as he leaned across me, gripped Roark’s shoulder, and shoved.

Jesse turned to help, his hands hesitating above Roark’s nude lower half, while Michio shifted and twisted Roark’s torso. With a heavy exhale, Jesse gripped Roark’s muscular thigh and pushed it across the bed.

I could’ve helped. I really should have. But I was having too much fun watching them push and arrange Roark’s dead weight into a fetal-like position. Roark continued to snore softly, and how I could find that sexy was anyone’s guess, but there it was, his drunken snore inspiring me to take advantage of him.

Jesse sat back, glaring at Roark’s ass, and shifted that glare to me. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

I shrugged, grinning. “You should spank him. You know, because he’s drunk, not because I’d enjoy watching or anything.”

He looked back at Roark, like he was considering it. Then he crawled into the space between us and collapsed on his chest.

Michio left the bed to turn off the light, but as he stood by the door in his towel, he stared across the space between us, his gaze losing clarity. Whatever he was thinking about, a part of him seemed to have suddenly left the room. It could’ve been anything from Aiman and Elaine to the spiders and my pregnancy.

When his eyes finally refocused, they weren’t on me. He was staring at Jesse. “We’re going to be okay.”

Same words I’d said to him on our way back to the room, though it felt as if he were excluding me in this context.

Jesse rolled to his side, facing me, and hauled my chest against his. “Okay, Doc.” He pressed a kiss to my head. “Okay,” he repeated, his voice soft and sad, yet resolved. “Come to bed.”

Were they talking about my impending death? It was hard to know for sure and too late at night to ask, the topic too heavy for my weary brain.

Michio hit the light switch and approached silently in the dark. He tugged off my towel, swapping it for one of the blankets on the bed, and slid in behind me. “Did you make him drink water?”

“Yeah,” Jesse said. “A couple bottles before he passed out the first time.”

I wrapped my arm around Jesse’s narrow hips, bringing him closer and pressing back against Michio’s chest to give them the warmth of my body. “Has he been drinking a lot over the past month?”

“No.” Jesse’s exhale brushed my face. “But after you left the room tonight, he decided to get gee-eyed and celebrate. His words.”

“Celebrate what? Christmas?”

“Finding you,” Michio said at my ear.

“And fatherhood,” Jesse added.

Fatherhood. I turned that over in my head, loving the sound of it. I smiled in the dark, my muscles lovingly worn-out and our bodies curving together. There, cradled in strength and warmth, I fell deeply and blissfully into sleep.