“I have my reasons.”
“Maybe one day you’ll explain them to me.”
He steps closer. “Do you really want to know?”
I open my mouth but reconsider before I can speak. Abel’s already too close. Asking this question, allowing him to invite me into his confidence, might be the smart play to make, but I’m suddenly afraid that I won’t be able to keep it separate. That I won’t be able to identify it as a play and not as a developing relationship. It’s the first step down the treacherous slope to falling for him, and I’m farther along that path than is comfortable.
Instead, I make myself turn from him and walk to the robe hanging from a hook by the door. “Another time.”
“Sure,” he says quietly. “Another time.” I must imagine the disappointment coloring his tone. I must. If it’s there, it’s a lie.
I might have come to the conclusion that I can trust Abel with my body the same way I can trust Eli with it, but my heart is no safer within his grasp. Even if he’s right there with me, tipping toward the point of no return, he won’t let that change any of his actions. If it ever becomes necessary, he’ll throw me under the bus without hesitation, soft feelings or no. Abel’s worked too hard to accomplish this coup to let a little thing like soft feelings derail him.
My robe feels like a completely inadequate shield. I reach the door and push through, only to stop short at the sight that greets me.
Eli.
On my bed.
He sees me and raises his eyebrows, the very picture of a lounging king. “I’ve decided to play by Abel’s rules. I’m sure you have no objection.”
Oh, I have every objection. Bad enough to share the bed with one of them, to alternate between the two shades of uncomfortableness, to deal with it as best I can. To share a bed with both?
The thought leaves me weaving on my feet. I’m strong. I’ve had to be to get to where I am, to survive what lies in my past. Faced with this, it all means nothing. I might be strong, but I’m nowhere near strong enough. Any hope I had of surviving this year with my heart intact is disappearing before my very eyes.
I turn around to find Abel filling the door behind me. “I am not a bone to fight over.”
“You’re the one who put yourself in that position.” He shrugs, as if this is a minor inconvenience. “We’ll make it work.”
That is not an answer, but I suppose I didn’t ask a question. I spin back around to find Eli sitting up. He’s wearing what he usually starts the nights in—lounge pants and nothing else. The bruises on his face and chest have already started to fade, the swelling completely gone. And, damn it, he looks good. It’s not fair that he looks so good when he’s regularly shattering my heart into a thousand pieces. He catches my gaze. “I’ll play nice. Tonight.”
“That’s not exactly the reassurance you seem to think it is.” Play nice. What does that even mean? There was a time when we played nice, but the last few days have broken what little foundation we shared. I don’t know what he is to me anymore, but nice does not apply. Neither does safe.
“I’ll keep him in line.” Abel’s voice is closer, and I barely jump when his hands land on my hips, and he pulls me back against his chest.
Eli’s smile goes sharp. “That won’t be necessary.”
Oh gods, what is happening? I try to breathe past the strange panic fluttering in my chest. “Since when are you two in agreement on anything? This is a terrible idea. Everything about this is a terrible idea.”
Eli’s gaze flicks to Abel and then back to me. “We’re in alignment for the night. Don’t think too hard about it.”
As if it were really that easy. I wave my hands at the bed. “Even without the threat of violence or the other very obvious pitfalls of this plan, the bed isn’t big enough for three people.” When I set up this room, I picked out a queen-sized bed because I had no intention of sharing it. It’s barely big enough for me and Abel, and I’m one hundred percent sure that his feet hang over the end when he stretches out.
“Then we’ll go to the other room. Grab the shit you need.” Abel gives my hips a squeeze and nudges me forward.
The shit I need?
How about a flamethrower and a suit of armor?
Strangely enough, the hysterical thought calms me. Wasn’t I just thinking that I’m physically safe with them? They won’t do anything I don’t want them to. That might not help my emotional state, but it still gives me something to focus on. “I—”