him in the ambient glow of the silver moon.
Avery is a fucking masterpiece, that’s the only word to encapsulate this god of a man. His golden skin is painted with splashes of neon green face-paint, curving up his neck, to his cheeks, and then across his forehead. He’s shirtless, gifting me a view of his taut abs. Very, very briefly I feel a stab of jealousy when a pretty blonde gives Avery an appreciatory once-over, but I smother it down. This man—this gorgeous, compassionate, slightly murderous man—is mine and mine alone. I won’t share him, and he’ll never ask me to. I own him as completely and as absolutely as he owns me.
“Which one?” I question with a snort. “The one at Ashley Brett’s house? Or the one for Jonah’s birthday party at that strip club—”
“The strip club. Definitely the strip club.” He pretends to mock shudder as we move across the parking lot, towards the front of the building. I’m not surprised that my guys know people that will allow us to bypass the line. After all, their entire job is based on knowing people and using them to their advantage. They didn’t become the best assassins in the U.S. because they have big cocks… Though…they totally have big cocks.
“Don’t even remind me.” I groan, scrubbing a hand down my face. “Do you remember when Leslie did that strip-tease? She was totally giving you fuck me eyes the entire time.” I try—I honestly do—to keep my voice devoid of the jealousy I felt that day. We’d only been eighteen, but Leslie had already invested in a boob job. Hers were large and plump, garnering the attention of every man at the party.
“Really?” Avery blinks in genuine confusion. “I didn’t notice.”
“How didn’t you notice?” I exclaim. “She practically had her nipple in your face.”
This time, his smile is softer, sweeter. There’s no underlying darkness lingering, waiting to pounce. “Because all I could focus on was you.”
Fluttery butterflies spread through my chest as I smile up at him like a love-struck idiot.
“Really?” I breathe.
“You guys. Focus,” Desmond cuts in, playfully whacking us on the backs of our heads. He saunters a few steps in front of me, and I can’t stop the drool from escaping as I devour him from head to toe. Like Avery, he’s shirtless, but unlike Avery, he’s wearing tight leather pants instead of jeans. They squeeze his muscular thighs in the very same way I did just a few hours earlier. His dark hair brushes his chiseled chin as he flashes me a brilliant smile. He wears two glow sticks around one wrist and three around the other. On his chest is a neon print of my hand, directly over his heart.
“You’re just jealous,” Avery jibes, but the animosity that had been saturating the air earlier is nowhere to be seen. Good sex can do that for you.
“Of your pathetic ass?” Desmond throws his head back in laughter, continuing to walk backwards. He seems utterly oblivious to the numerous stares being thrown in his direction from the simpering, beautiful females. Fuck, why do my men have to be so fucking sexy?
As Avery and Desmond continue to verbally spar with each other, Helio places a large, calloused hand on my shoulder. His skin has never been smooth; I remember that distinctly from our time in the Realm of the Gods. It’s always been hard and cracked in places from years—no, centuries of hard, diligent work. It’s just one of the many things I love about him.
“Stay with one of us at all times tonight,” he instructs in that growly, husky voice of his. It never fails to make goosebumps ripple on my skin as my body simultaneously screams at me to run and hide. To wait until he chases me like a lion stalking a gazelle. Everything about Helio—from his muscular, six-foot-five frame, to his penetrating brown gaze, to the tribal tattoos wrapping around his forearm—exudes danger and masculinity. And while some people will run in the opposite direction, screaming their heads off, I want to run towards him. I want him to unleash his monster on me, chasing me until I submit. It’s a heady sensation, and one that causes a blush to enter my cheeks.
“I will,” I promise, lightly running a finger down a vein on his forearm. He shudders delicately, and I bite down on my lip to contain my smile. It never fails to amaze me that I’m capable of affecting a man like