and we have each other. A sudden craving for something totally normal seizes me.
"Let's watch a movie," I suggest.
This is the last thing either of them expect, and they both look at me like I've lost my damn mind.
"Come on, guys," I say, sliding off the bed and grabbing their hands to pull them with me. "We can't be serious and brooding all the time. It's not healthy."
Dean chuckles at that, letting me pull him towards the couch. "I can't remember when I last watched something," he says. "It could be… interesting."
Declan sighs and begrudgingly lets me guide him onto the cushion by my side. "Fine. But don't expect me to enjoy it. I fundamentally refuse to enjoy anything about this place."
I take a step closer to him, closing the distance between us, pressing my body against his in ways that light a fire in my gut and definitely get his attention.
"Are you sure there's nothing you could enjoy here?" I ask, surprising myself with such forwardness. Not that I haven't had my flirtations and affairs in the past, but since Estelle died, it was like that part of me died with her. Now… now she's alive, and I'm finally reminded that I'm still alive too.
And for the first time since that night in my bathroom, I'm actually glad of it.
A deep growl rumbles in Declan's chest as he raises his hand to cup my face, our lips inches apart. "Watch it, witch-girl. Or I might take you seriously."
His dark green eyes melt me, and I stop fighting what I've been feeling for both of them since I got here. "I want you to take me seriously," I say, breathless with how badly I want it. And him.
Without another word, his hand slips to cup the back of my head, his fingers twining through my hair as he brings his lips to mine.
I reach behind me, grabbing Dean's hand and guiding it to my waist as Declan's mouth claims mine.
This isn't a kiss that starts slow and builds.
This is a kiss made of fire and desire, a kiss that burns right into the soul.
I feel Dean's chest pressed against my back, Declan's at my front, and when Dean's mouth drops to my neck, I moan into Declan's mouth, fighting my grip on Dean's hand and digging my nails into Declan's back as their passion scorches me until all I feel is them.
We might have stayed that way a thousand years. Time has lost all meaning, but when someone knocks at our door, Dean steps away, creating a draft at my back, and Declan nips at my bottom lip before pulling away, his hand dropping to mine as the door opens.
Sir enters with a cart piled high with covered trays. Dean goes to meet him and Sir hands off three trays before retreating without a word.
Dean sets them on the dresser and lifts off the lids. Steam wafts up from the hot food underneath.
"Bloody oath, you really have upgraded our prison experience," Declan says, whistling at the selection of meats, fruits, and exotic cheeses laid out. He shrugs. "Might as well enjoy it while it lasts."
My body is buzzing with pent up sexual energy, but my stomach rumbles its complaints and I realize how hungry I am. The three of us take a seat on the couch with me in the middle, and I flip on the television as Dean plates our food for us.
Flipping through the channels—which aren't many—I settle on a surprise find. "This is the best version of The Count of Monte Cristo I've ever seen," I tell them, turning up the volume. "You'll love it."
The guys don't speak French, so they rely on subtitles as we settle in to watch as the Count exacts his revenge through meticulous planning after being betrayed and falsely imprisoned. I mentally take notes. Who knows, maybe the Count can offer us a few pointers for surviving our own hell.
When we’ve all finished our food, I set the plates aside and lean into Declan's arms, my head against his chest, and lay my feet on Dean's lap, who takes the opportunity to massage them while Declan drops kisses on my head at random intervals. A warmth fills me, a connection to these two I can't explain, even to myself, but I feel so deeply I know we are inextricably linked.
A pack. They’re my pack now. My family. The knowledge settles something deep inside of me.
“What would it be called?” I ask suddenly.
The