Page 30 of Gravehouse

Pushing off the bed, I pause briefly beside him. “That’s why I could never play along with you.”

I don’t wait for his answer as I continue back to the closet, slipping out of my pyjamas and into a silk robe.

“You don’t have any boundaries. Where’s Asher?”

He glances between the clothes and my face. “Busy.”

“Well let’s unbusy him.” I head for the hallway, stopping outside a set of doors directly beside my own. “What’s in there?”

Atlas skids in behind me. “Where are you going?”

“I don’t know if you know this,” I say, turning to him. “But I don’t need a babysitter.” My back hits the double doors, finding the handle. “Or a spy. I’m not going to kill your brother. It’s clear he simply can’t die.”

Thud.

My grin slips off my face.

Atlas stiffens.

“What was that?” I whisper, not exactly needing him to answer.

I’m moving before I realize it, pushing the door open with my fingertip.

My stomach drops.

Camille is sprawled across Asher’s desk, thighs spread, her back arched so hard I can see each line of her spine. His fistis tangled in her hair, hauling her up to bare her throat as the mahogany desk scrapes across the floor with every hard thrust.

Caffeine and murder.

Atlas closes in from behind, his lips grazing the shell of my ear. “So can I have your answer now? Wanna play with me, Ivy?”

Asher’s head snaps up, eyes locking on me.

His lips curve into a cruel smirk, dragging each stroke out slowly until Camille’s whimpers turn ragged.

She moans into the scattered papers beneath her, her body tightening around him.

Every muscle in my body hardens, the floor beneath my feet swaying.

A hand slides over my hip, and Asher locks onto where Atlas spreads his fingers across my belly.

“Did you know we’ve shared her?” He presses through silk. “Often.”

Asher tightens his hand around Camille’s throat, tipping her head back. His tongue traces her jaw, moving over her cheekbone to her temple while never breaking eye contact with me.

Atlas nips at my ear. “Yet he wouldn’t… share you.”

I back us up until the door closes.

I need to get the fuck out of here before I do something that shows my entire ass humanity and Asher uses it as a weapon to destroy me.

My shoulder slams into Atlas as I barge past, desperate for my cage after all. I’ve played games. Many over the years. The only difference is they were safe, compartmentalized behind the fact that I didn’t give afuck. Which means about zero right now, since I definitely do give a fuck.

As soon as I’m back in my room, I rest against the door. What is wrong with me? I need to pull my shit together.

I head for the bathroom, turning on the shower and not bothering to wait for it to heat before stepping under the spray of water.

Hopefully I can scrub the humiliation off my face, since my heart won’t calm the fuck down.