Goddess Of The Underworld. Chapter 71

 Levi and Haiden leave the dining room after Xavier murmurs something low to them, too quiet for me to hear. Haiden smirks at me as he shuts the door behind him. Levi offers a single glance back, one that says behave, and then they're gone. The silence that follows is thick. I exhale, only just realizing how tightly I’ve been holding myself together all day. The cold truths under Tolaris. The weight of what I am. The way Felix looked at me like I was a ticking bomb dressed in black. My body aches, not from pain, but from the pressure, the relentless need to do, to carry, to fight. Xavier sees it. Of course he does. He always sees everything. I stand as he does, moving without thought.

“You’re unravelling,” he says simply, walking around the table, slow and measured like a predator closing in on prey.

“I’m holding it together.”

“You think you are.”

Behind me, Noah rises and comes to stand close, too close. His presence is fire at my back, while Xavier is cold steel in front of me.

“You’ve been working hard all day,” Noah murmurs, voice warm in my ear. “Maybe it’s time we remind you what it’s like to be held.”

“I don’t need…”

“You do,” Xavier cuts in. “Let us.”

I try to swallow, but my throat’s dry. My body is betraying me, already responding, already humming with anticipation. It’s not just the words. It’s them. The way they watch me like I’m not just theirs, but something sacred. It’s not a demand. It’s a promise.

Xavier reaches out first, fingers brushing the edge of my jaw, tipping my face up to meet his.

“You’re not alone in this anymore,” he says, eyes burning. “You carry the Veil. The weight. The underworld. The pack. The war. But tonight, you let us carry you.”

Noah’s hands slide around my waist from behind, pulling me flush against him, and suddenly my spine’s arched, breath hitched. I should stop this. I should say no. But my body is melting under their touch, and my mind, gods, my mind is screaming yes.

Xavier moves in, lips brushing over mine like a ghost of a kiss.

“Breathe, Envy.”

I do. Shaky. Raw. Then everything happens at once. Noah’s hands tighten at my hips, guiding me forward. Xavier takes my wrist and places it on the table. The polished wood is cool under my palms as they position me—gently, but firmly. Bent forward, arms braced, breath catching against the linen napkins and untouched plates. Clothes peel off me in pieces. Cool air grazes my back. Noah’s mouth is on my neck, teeth grazing just enough to make me shiver, while Xavier’s hands roam lower, slower, deliberate. His touch is like worship and possession at once.

“You’re shaking,” Xavier mutters against my shoulder as he pulls me back just enough to kiss the curve of my spine.

“I’m not afraid.”

“No,” Noah says, voice deeper now. “You’re ready.”

There’s no rush. No fumbling. Every motion is controlled, fluid, like they’ve been waiting for this moment. Maybe they have. Every time I thought they were being too patient, too careful, it was this. They were holding back. Letting me choose when, and I’m choosing now.

I moan, quiet, needy, as Xavier slides a hand beneath me, and Noah presses forward behind me, lips and tongue tracing symbols only he seems to know. Every brush of skin feels like a spark. Every sigh feels like permission.

“Say it,” Xavier whispers.

“Say what?” I gasp.

“That you’re ours.”

I grip the table harder, lips parting on a sound that’s almost a growl. “I’m not saying it until you make me scream it.”

Noah laughs, dark and low.

“Oh, we will, little warrior.”

And they do, oh fuck, they do.

**Noah**

The fire in her eyes hasn’t gone out. t’s dulled now, banked like coals, but it’s still there, glowing under the surface as I help her up from the table. She’s trembling, but not from pain...The exhaustion, the revelations, the weight of what she uncovered beneath Tolaris. Xavier presses a kiss to her temple and mutters something about checking in with Levi and Haiden. He disappears into the hall, and suddenly it’s just me and her. Envy leans into me more than she probably means to. She won’t ask to be held, never does, but I do it anyway. Her arms are loose around my shoulders as I lift her up bridal-style. Gods, she’s soft and warm and still buzzing with power under her skin. Even worn out and half-undressed, she’s lethal, beautiful and she’s ours. She doesn’t speak as I carry her through the halls toward our room. The silence between is comfortable in a way that lets her rest her head against my chest and let her walls fall a little. Just for a moment.

“I should shower,” she murmurs.

I kiss the crown of her head. “Bath’s better.”

She raises a brow but doesn’t argue.

The ensuite is already warm from the heated floors when I carry her in. The oversized soaking tub is built for people like us, fast-healing, high-stress wolves who need recovery to be more than just physical. I set her down gently on the stone bench beside it and turn on the taps, letting the water rise with a blend of mineral salts and something minty and calming Aleisha left behind weeks ago.

Envy watches me in silence as I peel her remaining layers off. She doesn’t look away. Doesn’t flinch. There’s no shame between us. No pretending.

“You’re hovering,” she says softly.

“I’m watching over you.”

“That’s… annoyingly sweet.”

I grin and offer her a hand. “Come on, little luna.”

She lets me guide her into the water. It climbs over her legs, then her waist, and she exhales like she’s been holding her breath for years. When I kneel behind her at the edge of the tub, she leans back between my knees without being asked. My hands go to work, slow circles over her shoulders, her arms, fingers threading through her wet hair like I’m winding her back down to earth. She melts under my touch.

Her voice is barely audible. “I think I’m scared.”

I pause. “Of what?”

“Of who I’m becoming.”

I rest my cheek against the top of her head, wrapping my arms around her from behind, letting her sink deeper into my chest. “Then don’t do it alone. Let us help carry it. All of it.”

Her fingers lace with mine beneath the water. “I don’t want to need anyone.”

“But you do. And it’s okay that you do.”

She doesn’t reply. But she doesn’t let go.

When the water starts to cool, I dry her off gently and lift her again, placing her on the edge of the bed. I tug one of my shirts over her head, baggy, soft, completely swallowing her frame. It smells like me, and she doesn’t complain. As I tuck the blankets up around her, she watches me with hooded eyes.

I brush my knuckles across her cheek. “I'll be back soon, okay? Get some rest.”