Page 111 of Hell’s Weapon

But he reaches for me as I finish cleaning him off and start on myself. He takes the soapy loofah and runs it in gentle circles over my skin. Lowering to his knees when he’s finished with my torso ,he runs it down my legs. On the way back up, his piercing gaze finds mine once more.

“I love you too,” he says. The words are soft, almost hesitant, but they hit me with the force of a gale. He still has a sadness etched into his features that I don’t understand, but I smile down at him, cupping his face, feeling my heart skip a beat.

“Every. Damn. Time.” I repeat, pulling him to his feet.

Our lips meet in a release of pent-up pain. From me it’s about almost losing him. From him, I’m sure it's wrapped up in his past. He’s not opened up about that side of himself yet but maybe one day he will; the stuff I learnt from his file is traumatic. On some level, I hate that I know his history because of our situation. I want to learn it from his perspective, to see how it affected him and then, hopefully, I can slay the ghosts that clearly haunt him.

His hands play at my waist, turning me to put my back against the tiles. He pushes his body flush to mine like he needs the closeness, needs to feel the skin-on-skin pressure with another being. His cock hardens between us and I grind my hips up into him, getting turned on from the way his lips and tongue mould with mine again, and again.

My hands map his face, his shoulders, and his biceps. He’s all strength, not stacked like Wyatt or Garrett, but his lithe muscles are pure power.

His hands don’t stop their exploration of my hips, waist, and slipping lower. I do, however, gasp when one grips the back of my thigh and hoists, bringing my knee up to wrap it around his middle. I have to shift my weight to find my balance on one foot but then his cock is sliding through the folds at my core and falling is the last thing on my mind.

Our similar heights make our pelvises perfectly align and on the next thrust of his hips he’s pushing into me. I cry out at being stretched so soon after the last time, but I want it, need it, and would probably actually cry if he stopped.

Eyes locking, our faces are so close our noses rub each time he enters my body. I don’t drop his gaze as he repeatedly pushes deep and pulls out slow, creating a delicious friction between his cock and my pussy. I suck in lungfuls of heated steam as my breathing accelerates and I cling on to his hot, wet skin.

A hundred words fly between us, a thousand, and yet not a single one is said. Our bodies and our facial expressions tell us the only thing that matters. That we belong together and that the bond forming between us is becoming unbreakable.

I crash into a cascading wave of ecstasy as the orgasm hits. Milo joins me simultaneously, and we still don’t let our eyes drop from each other until well after we come back into our bodies. He breaks it first to place a kiss on the end of my nose before tilting his head to place his forehead to mine. He releases my leg as he eases out of me. Despite the hot water still raining down on us, I feel the temperature drop as he pulls back.

He doesn’t go far though–not that space is really an option in this shower–but he rinses himself off before grabbing a cloth and gently rinsing between my legs as well.

We return to the bedroom some time later, once we’re both dry, to find Wyatt still sleeping.

“He’s going to be insufferable when he finds out what he missed out on,” I remark as we work out how to both fit back on the bed.

Milo huffs a small laugh and signs, “Sometimes I want you to myself. He will deal.”

This time I’m laughing. It’s the most possessive thing Milo has ever said. I note his comment and will absolutely be dragging more of that side out in the future. “Don’t worry, I want that too. We can play together and separately. I’m sure we can find ways to make him insanely jealous though, in a teasing way. Just imagine how feral it’ll make him.”

Milo’s cheeks flush that beautiful crimson telling me he is indeed thinking of some hopefully very dirty ideas to carry out my plan. Which means he is hopefully on board with it.

Life becomes pretty fucking fantastic is you ignore the proverbial grey cloud hanging over our head. The Angel shaped, double crossing, kind of proverbial cloud.

There are no more dead contestants and the games become kind of fun when no one is looking over their shoulder expecting to get stabbed as they sleep.

Maybe I’ve had rose tinted glasses put over my view. It could certainly be a side effect from the amount of orgasms I’m currently getting daily. But as the sun beats down on my wings, I can’t help but let the happiness outshine the threat we’re still facing.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m still working my ass off trying to find the second spy who still resides amongst us. Although, I should be working right now but instead I’m perched on the roof of the dormitories, as one of the shifter lessons takes place below. I’m cloaked in my hood and mask, swinging my legs as I desperately try to hold in my laughter. I wish I had popcorn for the show happening below in the courtyard.

“No, no. Not the fence!” Khaos commentates beside me, his hand slamming to his mouth as he bursts into hysterics. We watch in bemused horror as Wyatt, in his dragon form, slams into the perimeter fence, taking down several of the chain link fencing panels.

The first flying lessons are always entertaining, and I wasn’t going to miss this, even if I’m supposed to be meeting Garrick in his office to go through the latest CCTV footage.

Milo, who is also in the lesson, runs towards Wyatt as he unsuccessfully tries to detangle himself. Milo took a while, but finally revealed his demonic side yesterday. It was quite a surprise to wake up with a panther that wasn’t Garrick sleeping between myself and Wyatt.

It takes a few minutes but he, in his human form, along with a few other contestants and the Officers taking the lesson, manage to unwrap the fence from Wyatt. The dragon springs free, flaring his wings and shaking like a dog. Flying hasn’t come the easiest to him, but then again none of the new winged-shifters have managed to fly more than a few feet in the last few days. It takes a while for them to figure out the muscle movements and build up some strength in their wings.

“He can fix that himself.” Garrick’s gruff voice comes from behind us.

Uh-oh. Busted.

He steps up to the lip of the building Khaos and I are sitting on and places his hand between my shoulder blades, sending a shiver through the arches of my wings.

“This compound is hardly big enough for a dragon to practice flying, you can’t blame him really,” I plead Wyatt’s case, keeping my voice low so no one overhears me talking.

“Zafihra seems to manage fine.” We look skyward and see the other dragon shifter circling overhead. Wyatt was meant to be following her into the skies when he tripped up on the take off.