Wicked Harmony

Chapter 24 | Sin

Chapter 24

Sin

I n less than a month, I’ve gone from being painfully single and pretty damn lonely, to having two rockstar boyfriends and a rockstar mate.

What a headfuck.

It’s almost a week after the fated mate revelation with Dorian, and I feel like there aren’t enough hours in the day to get everything done. Between the job I’m actually getting paid to do, and splitting my time between getting to know Dorian while also spending time with Micah and Cal, it’s a lot. I’d like to split myself into four, although I’m pretty sure I still wouldn’t have enough time to get everything done.

I’ve been working obsessively for the past few days, and I know they’ve been mentally clocking up the hours I’ve been spending in the workshop.

Every few hours, Cal will come in to bring me a drink and a snack, or Micah will stop by and pull me in for a cuddle.

Dorian’s approach, though, is less subtle.

“You’re coming with me.” He pulls me to my feet, ignoring that I’m in the middle of working on something and my squawk of indignation at his interruption.

“I don’t have time today,” I tell him, rubbing my burning eyes.

I still have so much shit to get done. It’s unreal. I’ve been going to bed later and waking up at the ass crack of dawn, but I still don’t seem to be anywhere near finishing. I’ve tweaked thirty devices so far and have around forty to go.

Dorian puts his hand on my hip. “We’re done with the bike, Sin. She drives like an absolute dream and I need to test her out. The only way that could be any better is if you’re at my back.”

I smirk at the cheesy line, and he pinches my side in retaliation.

“You’ve been working for twelve hours nonstop today. I bet your magic is tapped out by now. You need a break.”

Ugh. He’s got me there. Turns out there’s nothing much more persuasive than Dorian when he’s actually trying to get you to do something.

We’ve spent a couple of hours every day fixing up his bike and it’s finally rideable again. Well... I’ve been fixing it up while Dorian sits around and watches. Sometimes he’ll write songs while I work on the bike or sometimes he brings his guitar outside and strums along while I work.

He’s surprisingly good company, considering what a dick he seemed at first.

“You fixed my bike, Sin, and looked sexy as hell while you did it. Now, I need you to let me show you my ruggedness and my worth by getting on my bike and giving that gorgeous big brain of yours a break for a while.”

I shoot him a flat look, even as I’m softening toward his argument. He’s right. I could do with a break and maybe a week long nap. The pile of things I have to do will still be there when we get back.

“Fine.”

He grins at me and disappears into the garage, returning with a pile of leathers in his hands.

Suspiciously small looking leathers and a bright purple helmet.

“Where’d you get these?” I ask as he shoves them into my arms .

“Ordered them online and they arrived this morning,” he says. “I wanted you to have some in case you agreed to come for a ride with me.”

His grin doesn’t falter as I stare at the very expensive, buttery soft leathers in my hands. Yeah, no fucking way can I say no to an enthusiastic Dorian.

Thirty minutes later, we’re tearing up the open road. I’m clinging to Dorian’s waist and trying to keep my screeches internalized, especially when he attacks the bends with vigor.

The bike’s vibrations, combined with the sheer fucking adrenaline pumping through me, have me gripping hard with my thighs and my pussy clenching on nothing.

Dorian was right about the roads around here. They seem to stretch on forever, with the purple mountains visible in the hazy distance.

After about twenty minutes of driving, he pulls us over to a viewing point at the side of the road. My legs are shaking like mad and I wobble slightly as he helps me off the bike and pulls off his helmet before helping me remove mine.

“What do you think?” he asks, smirking down at me.

“Of the road or the ride?” I ask, slightly breathlessly. “Both are pretty fantastic. This view is breathtaking.”

He grins and puts his arm around my shoulder, nuzzling his nose against the top of my no-doubt sweaty head.

“Yeah, it is,” he replies softly. “Thanks for coming with me. It feels good to share this with someone. You know, after a gig, I’m usually so keyed up I wish I could go for a ride like this, burn off the energy. Instead, I always wind up hanging around backstage for too long or going to a shitty party full of obnoxious idiots.”

Huh, I wonder if I can help with that. Maybe I can rig something up to help absorb the excess .

The adrenaline from the ride is working in my favor right now. My mind goes a mile a minute as I go through the possibilities. I’m buzzing, filled with ideas, and it feels fantastic.

Dorian hesitates before reaching out to tuck a wayward bit of hair behind my ear. “I’ve enjoyed spending time together this week, Sin. Watching you work has been fucking great. Plus, you look hot as hell when you’re all sweaty.”

I snort. I’m a gross, disheveled troll whenever I’m working. If Dorian’s into that, then I guess maybe we are made for each other.

Safe to say that this whole fated mate bond thing has developed over the past week. It’s like the more time we spend together, the more I can physically feel the tether between us growing. It’s thickening with every hour we’re in each other’s company.

Weird as hell, but I can’t say I hate it.

And because I can’t seem to stop myself, I go up on my toes and press my lips to his.

He doesn’t hesitate, pulling me closer with a guttural groan as he sucks my lower lip between his. Then he slips his tongue into my mouth and I twine my tongue with his. He lets out another deep groan, pulling me close as his hands travel lower to palm my ass. I grind my pussy against his crotch and wish that we weren’t wearing these damn thick leathers.

“Fuck, Sin.” He pulls back, staring into my eyes and cupping my jaw with his hand. “You are the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen.”

I grin at him and press my lips to his again, enjoying his sharp intake of breath and the taste of salt on my tongue.

“You’re vibrating,” I tell him.

“Nah, I’m pretty sure you’re still shaking from the adrenaline.” His returning grin is lazy and I snort a laugh.

“No. Your pocket is vibrating, dummy. I think someone’s trying to get a hold of you. ”

“Shit,” Dorian says, pulling out his phone and reading whatever’s on the screen before glancing at the sky. “Cal texted. There are storm clouds headed our way. I hate to cut this short, but—”

“Better than getting stuck on the road if it’s gonna start with thunder and lightning,” I tell him.

Too bad the storm doesn’t wait for us to get back.

We’re halfway home when the heavens open, and it begins to pour with rain. I cringe as it travels down the gap in my collar. We’re both soaked through in moments as the icy rain bounces onto the road. Thunder rattles in the distance and I tighten my hold on Dorian’s waist. He readjusts my gloveless hands until they’re tucked inside his jacket, even though my skin is icy cold already.

It feels like it takes ten times longer to get back to the cabin than it should. Dorian has to slow right down in places and the road looks like it’s in danger of flooding.

“Not too much further,” he shouts into the helmet speaker.

By the time we make it back, Dorian has to physically peel me off the bike. It’s like my limbs have entirely seized up and I’m shivering violently.

Rather than setting me down, he insists on carrying me into the house like I’m a fainting maiden.

We step inside the mudroom I didn’t even know existed, and he helps me to pull off my helmet and then tugs the soaked jacket away from my drenched skin. The protective gear drops to the floor with a wet plop and I shimmy my pants down, baring my cold, goosepimply legs.

“Shit. We need to warm you up,” Dorian says, rubbing a towel up and down my arms. He’s not even taken his own clothes off yet, even though he’s just as cold.

I stumble slightly on my dead legs, and Dorian curses, scooping me up into his arms again. The feeling of his wet jacket against my bare skin makes me cringe and I want nothing more than a hot shower right now.

“Need to warm you up,” Dorian mutters again. “Shit. You’re like an icebox, your damn teeth are chattering. Some relaxing afternoon this has turned out to be. Shit.” It’s like he’s talking to himself rather than to me, so I just squeeze his arm. I’d pinch his nipple if I could, but the positioning is all wrong.

As soon as we step into the living room, Cal is striding toward me. His hair’s disheveled, like he’s been tugging on it, and my stomach swoops with guilt. He’ll have seen the storm coming and spent the past hour worrying about us.

“We’re f-f-fine,” I insist. Shame that my chattering teeth don’t make my statement any more convincing.

“You should both get a shower,” he says. “Maybe a shower, then a bath.”

Cal’s protective side is out in force and he takes over, scooping me into his arms and carrying me toward the bathroom. It’s only once the bathroom door shuts behind me, I catch sight of Dorian’s dejected expression.

“I’m f-f-fine,” I tell Cal. “Seriously.”

“You will be,” he replies. “Now, let me take care of you.”

He strips off without letting me go for a moment. It’s honestly impressive, but I don’t think he’s in the right headspace for compliments right now. No, he’s gripping onto me for dear life, like he needs to feel me against him.

“I’m fine,” I repeat, my voice stronger now that I’m under the hot water. “A little rain won’t wash me away.”

“Not a fan of storms,” he grunts, positioning me so that I’m fully under the warm spray while he’s behind me. Micah quickly joins us and the two of them work together to rinse my hair. Cal then slowly lathers up shampoo while Micah soaps up the rest of me .

It’s not sexual in the slightest, despite us all being naked and the two of them being so hot it should be illegal. My eyes rake over Micah’s colorful chest plate tattoo and the lithe muscles in front of me.

But they’re both totally focused on the task at hand, like taking care of me like this is soothing their anxiety. I feel another stab of guilt. It’s not like we meant to get caught out in a thunderstorm, but I can understand their worry. Dorian and I were sitting ducks out there, practically begging to hit a puddle on the bike and lose control, or get hit by lightning.

“I’m not a fan either,” Micah adds. “I remember getting soaked to my skin one time when I was living in the forest. It took me so long to warm up, I wound up feverish and confused. It was terrifying.” He leans closer, pressing kisses to my wet face and shoulder. “I couldn’t stand it if you had to go through the same thing.”

My heart hurts at the thought of him going through that alone and he shoots me a small smile and I see he’s not wearing the cuff to dull his sense of my emotions.

“How long did you live like that?”

He shrugs, carefully shifting me so that I can rinse off.

“I don’t know,” he replies. “I had no way of working out how much time passed out there. It felt like a long time.”

“Months?”

“More like years. Possibly decades. Who knows? I was pretty feral when Iri came across me.”

This isn’t a part of the story I’ve heard before, so I lean closer and press a kiss to his chest. “How did he come across you?”

Cal snorts behind me as Micah smiles at the memory. “He was supposed to be vacationing with his mother, but she had this idea of luring him home and setting him up with a bunch of she-demons. He drove for miles to give himself some thinking time and stopped in the forest where I was living. ”

While he’s talking, Cal works steadily, conditioning my hair and slowly rinsing it clear, then gives himself a cursory rinse before turning off the shower.

“Iri somehow got his foot caught in a hole and twisted his ankle pretty badly. I was getting water nearby and his pain called to me. I don’t know what he thought of me when he first laid eyes on me. My hair was down my back and my beard was a matted mess.” He shakes his head and steps out of the shower, grabbing some towels and passing one to me and Cal before getting his own.

“Anyway, I helped him strap his ankle back at my shack and fed him some homemade hooch to help with the pain. He heard me humming to myself and started talking to me about music.

“It had been a long damn time since I’d last spoken to another person, but he could carry the conversation without me. He told me all about the feelings he got when he heard a song he liked, about his mother’s terrible singing.” Micah’s still smiling at the memory as we towel off.

“Anyway, at some point, I started talking back. He stayed with me for hours until he was steady enough on his foot to tackle the walk back.”

“What happened after that?” I ask as Cal comes up behind me and brushes my hair before wrapping me in a robe that’s about five sizes too big. He grunts to himself as he rolls up the sleeves a good half dozen times until they’re not hanging down to my knees.

“Somehow, he persuaded me to come back with him. He put it like I was helping him, that he needed the support to make it back to his car. Anyway, neither of us could drive since I didn’t know how and Iri couldn’t use one leg, so he called his mom to come and pick us up.” He shakes his head. “She’s one scary lady. Wouldn’t take no for an answer when I said I was gonna head back to my shack. So, yeah, that was how I wound up with Iri.” Micah snorts. “It’s also the last time his mom threatened to set him up with anyone. ”

I can’t wrap my head around Micah’s story. Of him somehow winding up in this world and surviving alone in the forest for who knows how long.

Micah and Cal both quickly shove on some comfy clothes and lead me through to the living room, where Cal wraps me in a blanket before jumping up to make some hot chocolate. Soon, I’m so wrapped up I can barely move my arms.

“How did you get from there to starting the band?” I ask.

Micah seats me in front of him and pulls me against his chest, wrapping his arms around me from behind. “I didn’t cope too well with being outside the forest. Too many people. It was all too loud, you know? But music was always something that seemed to make sense to me. I started writing songs and Iri had been fucking around, teaching himself to play bass for a couple of years. He suggested we go to some open mic nights. Being on stage was like magic, like everything faded away and I could breathe again. Then we moved on to being session musicians, filling in where other bands needed us.” He leans close until his chin is resting on top of my head and I feel damn cozy and protected. “After a few years like that, we decided to start our own band.”

“And so Orpheus Underground was born?”

He chuckles and the vibrations travel directly through my chest. “Not quite. We took a while to find our rhythm. Tried a bunch of different drummers, even more lead guitarists. We spent about five years trialing different musicians. Then, one day, we were holding auditions and these two young kids came in together.” He presses a kiss just below my ear. “They were so fucking young, but they both seemed mature as hell. I was old as fuck, this ex-feral Nephilim who’d just about taught himself how to speak to others. And Cal was almost as big as he is now. He strode in, barely acknowledged us and smacked the shit out of the drums before striding out again. ”

I snort at the image. I can just see it now. A self-possessed teenage Cal doing whatever he pleased and not giving a shit about their reaction or adulation.

“He sure made a strong first impression,” Micah adds.

“And Dorian?” I’m just as eager to hear about their first impressions of him, considering my own were of a spoilt asshole fuckboy.

“Dorian was... defensive. He was nineteen, and he had a shit ton of attitude.”

“He was a little asshole,” Cal says, returning with a tray of hot chocolate and what look like half a dozen pillows tucked under his arms. He places them around me, like he’s forming a protective pillow wall around me. Surveying his handiwork, he tsks and shifts three of the pillows so he can scoot closer to me. Once our thighs are touching, he passes me a mug and wraps his huge hand around my thigh, apparently satisfied.

“Seriously talented, though,” Micah adds.

“Always has been,” Cal says. “Even when we were kids. Other kids would mess around all summer, playing soccer and shit. We’d spend every free moment we had jamming together.”

“What did your parents think when you joined the band? Were they supportive?” I ask him.

Cal nods. “Always.”

“They’re the best, seriously,” Micah adds. “You’ll see when you meet them.”

“Might have to introduce you in doses,” Cal says. “Don’t want them to scare you off.”

My insides melt at the casual way they both talk about introducing me to his family, like it’s already a done deal and like things between us are going to stretch on way beyond us leaving this cabin to go on tour. I take a sip of hot chocolate and sink deeper into Micah’s chest, resting my other hand on Cal’s fingers, which are still wrapped around my thigh .

“Do you think Dorian’s ever going to join us?” I ask, glancing around like he might appear from out of nowhere.

“He’s probably busy kicking his own ass,” Cal grumbles before pressing a kiss to my temple.

“I am fine, you know,” I tell him. “I got wet, but I’m not made of paper. But I didn’t disintegrate.”

Cal grunts and heads for the door. “I’ll go fetch him. Threaten to kick his ass for him if he doesn’t come in here with us.”

I smile and snuggle deeper into Micah’s chest. Having them take care of me like this is a revelation. I’m not going to milk it though... or at least, not too much.