Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 119597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119597 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 598(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
My dick swells in anticipation, and I have to mentally calm myself down. We have a long journey ahead. Weeks of walking, surviving, protecting her with my life, all the while keeping my senses on constant alert.
I can’t lose focus. No matter how beautiful she is or how alone we are, I won’t let my guard down.
Their whispering goodbyes melt into open-mouth kissing. It’s tender and desperate, filled with a reluctance to separate, a promise to reunite, and all the emotions in between.
I should look away, but I don’t. We’re together in this. Together in all things.
The kiss ends, but their foreheads remain connected as silent tears fall down her cheeks.
When they finally part, there’s a lingering touch, a longing look, each of them carrying the gravity of this moment, the fear of finality, the hope of forever.
It’s heart-wrenching to watch. I hate seeing vulnerability on my brother’s face, but it pales in comparison to the grit and determination that defines our existence.
She heaves on her pack and treads to the door.
I insisted she carry the lighter pack, redistributing the weight so that I bear the brunt of our supplies. My back will pay for it, but the pain is inconsequential compared to the peace of mind it’ll bring, knowing I’ve lightened her load even by a little.
As I turn to follow her, Leo grabs my arm and puts his strange, unmatched eyes right in front of mine.
His mouth opens, but nothing comes out.
I know what he’s holding back, the demands that burn in his throat.
Don’t touch her. Don’t fuck her. Don’t steal her. She’s mine.
His unspoken commands hit my chest and bounce off.
I twist my arm from his grip and grab his head with both hands. “She’s ours. That doesn’t mean she’s a possession, a toy to pass back and forth. She’s ours in a partnership. She doesn’t divide us. She multiplies us.” I bow my forehead to his, my voice hushed. “Claiming her is our vow to stand by her and cherish her. It leaves no room for jealousy, only pleasure. No space for division, only unity. We’re building a future with her, a life without boundaries, where we can thrive, share, grow, and fuck. The three of us together? We’re an unstoppable force. I know you know that. You want it. I see it on your damn face. But it scares you. Fuck man, it scares me, too. Doesn’t change the fact that she’s ours. That means I will never take her from you. She loves you as much as I do. She’s ours, and I’m bringing her back.”
I lower my arms and scrub a hand over my mouth, stunned by how much just spilled from it.
He stares, blank-faced and mute.
“Say something, fuckhead,” I huff.
A muscle twitches in his cheek, another at the corner of his eye. Then he blinks.
“I think…” He sets his hands on his hips. “That was the most words you’ve ever strung together at one time. Who are you, and what have you done with my brother?”
“Did you hear anything I said?” My nostrils flare.
“Yeah.” He nods, scuffs his boot on the floor, and nods again. “I’m taking it to heart.” He leans in and squeezes my neck. “Especially the part about you bringing her back.”
“I swear it, Leo.”
“Okay, then.” He sniffs and steps back.
We turn toward the door and find Frankie watching us with tears in her eyes. She quickly spins away, pressing the heels of her gloved hands to her face.
Beautiful and compassionate. A deadly combination. She has no idea how alluring she is for men like us. Our need to protect and provide for her is impossible to resist.
“Ready?” I prowl toward her, prepared to carry her if she needs that.
She doesn’t.
Straightening her backbone, she opens the door.
With a final wave, we step into the cold, leaving Leo standing alone in the doorway.
“I hate this part.” She adjusts the straps of her pack and trudges through the snow.
“Which part?”
“Leaving. Leaving you, leaving him, it never gets easier.”
The miles ahead loom menacingly, but the promise of return, of reunion, gives credence to my response. “This is the last time.”
“What do you mean?”
“After this, the three of us never have to separate again.”
She considers that, squinting at her shuffling snowshoes. “I hope you’re right.”
Through hell and high water, I’ll make damn sure I am.
As quickly as a breath, the light of dawn comes and goes. In the return of darkness, we walk in silence.
The sharp morning air slaps our exposed cheeks and follows us like an uninvited companion. At least it’s not snowing. That mercy allows us to forgo the goggles.
The moment the cabin fades from view behind us, my senses sharpen, every nerve attuned to every possible danger and the precious cargo I’ve vowed to protect.
I position myself slightly ahead, setting a pace that’s brisk yet mindful of the physical demands on her. My eyes constantly scan the horizon, the snow-laden tundra, and the dense clusters of rocks that sporadically break the monotony of the white landscape. Every shadow, every change in the wind, is a potential threat, and I’m the barricade between that threat and her.