He opened the carved double doors with a quiet creak, letting the warmth of the bath chamber spill into the hall. Steam coiled in lazy tendrils toward them, scented faintly with rosemary. The marble gleamed under lantern light, soft golden sconces catching along the polished surfaces. The tub sat sunken in the floor, wide and deep, already half-filled from the cisterns above. The heat from the stone and coals beneath warmed the air, and the room was quiet - no attendants, no noise, no eyes.
Private. Like everything should have been from the beginning.
Lucanis stepped aside to let her in. "See?" He said, with that faint curl of amusement. "Much more private than the bathhouse."
Starling gave him a flat look, unimpressed. "Didn't stop you though, did it?"
Lucanis let out a quiet snort of laughter, the corner of his mouth tugging into a grin. "No," he said. "But in my defence, you looked like you were about to drown yourself in boredom."
Viago chuckled low behind her. "You didn't exactly protest."
"I was outnumbered," she muttered, stepping in and letting the steam embrace her like a lullaby.
Lucanis watched her shoulders soften almost instantly, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment as she breathed in the heat. Good. She needed to loosen up. Needed to stop looking over her shoulder like death was three steps behind her.
He moved closer, fingers brushing the hem of the shirt she wore - his shirt - and began to lift it. "Arms up."
She obeyed, slow and wary, and the shirt peeled away from her like a second skin. Lucanis balled it in one hand, tossing it over a bench. Viago was already behind her, eyes on her back. That thin line of stitching, clean but red. No sign of pus, no heat. Healing, but angry.
Viago touched gently just beside it. "Still clean."
Then, he bent and kissed the skin just to the side of the wound. A gesture that looked reverent, gentle, even. Maybe it was.
Lucanis watched her eyes flicker shut at the touch, just for a heartbeat. That damn guarded little thing - she melted and bristled in equal measure. Even now, he could see the tension still coiled beneath the comfort. Always ready to bolt, even when she said she wouldn't.
Not this time.
They undressed quickly, efficiently, neither making a show of it, though her eyes did flick toward him once, just once. Lucanis caught it. Filed it away like a blade up his sleeve. Then Viago stepped in first and reached back, hand out for her. Lucanis stepped into the water after her, letting the heat close over his legs, up his torso. She was careful, cautious about how she lowered herself, protecting her back. She didn't need to. They'd do that for her.
He guided her between them, one arm slipping around her waist just below the wound, the other settling along the edge of the bath as he sank deeper, legs bracketing hers. Viago was already at her front, arms loose around her, nose nuzzling her temple.
Lucanis let his mouth brush her damp shoulder.
"Maybe next time you could let us know you're bleeding out in a stranger's house," Lucanis said, voice flat and sardonic. "Just to mix things up."
Starling snorted. "Cade is hardly a stranger. And I was hardly bleeding out. I thought Viago was the dramatic one."
Viago let out a mock-hurt sound, pressing a hand to his heart as if wounded. "Tesora," he murmured, "you wound me deeper than Vasha ever could."
Lucanis didn't smile. She'd said it too quickly. Too easily. Cade is hardly a stranger.
That name again, too damn casual on her tongue. Like someone she'd relied on too long, too often. Like someone she ran to first when she should have run to them.
Lucanis watched the way her mouth curved, amused with herself. The wound on her back was a vivid red line, tight with fresh stitches and framed in soft bruising. It might not have been fatal, but it had still bled like a bastard, and she'd still run through half the city after getting it. She could've torn it open worse. She could've collapsed before Cade even opened the door.
And still she treated it like it was nothing. Like they were the ones overreacting. Lucanis's jaw ticked. She didn't understand what it cost to see her like that, bloodied and still hiding.
"You got lucky," he muttered. "She went for your spine."
Starling shifted in the water, just slightly. "It wasn't luck. I moved."
She always had to downplay it. She always had to act like she wasn't inches from dying, like it hadn't mattered. Or maybe she just didn't know how much it mattered to him, to them.
Viago gently ran his fingers through her damp hair, soothing, trying to take the edge off things. But Lucanis could feel it bubbling low in his chest. He'd murdered two Crows tonight, covered up a diplomatic assassination, pinned a conspiracy on the dead and vanished - and still, still, this woman found a way to make him feel like he was losing control.
Because it wasn't Cade who stitched her back together. It wasn't Cade who'd fought to keep her safe.
Lucanis leaned forward until his voice was near her ear again, low and even. "I'm not fond of repeating myself," he said. "Next time, you run to us."
She didn't answer, but her posture shifted again, just slightly, like some tension had given way beneath the command. Progress. But he wasn't done yet. Not by a long shot. Lucanis leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. He didn't speak right away, letting her feel the heat of him behind her, the weight of his presence in the low-lit steam of the bath chamber.
Then he caught her earlobe between his teeth, just a little bite. The shiver that passed through her was small but unmistakable. Pain and pleasure were layered close in her, always had been. And when she didn't flinch away, when she stayed still and let that breath catch in her throat... More progress.
She was propped between them in the deep marble tub, the water lapping soft against her bare thighs. She had her back to Lucanis, her legs stretched along Viago's. The wound was still tender, and neither of them had pushed her too far. Not yet.
He tilted his head and pressed a kiss just beneath her jaw, slow, mouth dragging along wet skin. Her hair was damp, tucked loosely behind one ear. His hands slid under the water, resting lightly on her hips, fingers spreading against her skin.
"You don't get to scare the shit out of us," he murmured, voice low and steady, "run off bleeding, and think there won't be consequences."
Starling let out a slow exhale, and he felt it through her spine. Not quite guilt, not quite apology. But something.
"I didn't run," she said, quiet. "I… redirected."
Lucanis gave a soft, sardonic laugh, teeth brushing her shoulder. "You're lucky you're injured, or I'd make you pay for that."
Viago's voice came from in front of her, smooth and quiet as his fingers skimmed the water. "We're still considering it."
Lucanis watched as Starling's fingers curled lightly around Viago's wrist. She was pretending to relax. But she was watching them both, always. She was like a cat cornered in a sunbeam. Still wary, still wound tight. And that only made Lucanis more determined. His hands slid up under the water, thumbs tracing the edges of her ribs. He didn't need her moaning for him today. He just needed her here, held between them, with nowhere else to go. No more secrets between them.
He leaned in again, voice low and near her ear. "We keep you safe," he said. "You let us."
She didn't answer with words, but her body shifted again. Just a little. Just enough to lean into him, her temple pressing back against his jaw. And that... that was what made his throat tighten.
Viago kissed her shoulder. "You'll sleep here again tonight."
He reached for the sponge on the rim of the tub and dragged it slowly over her shoulder. "And Starling," he added, voice lower, darker now, "next time you get stabbed, you run to us. Not Cade. Not anyone else."
Viago shifted in the water, guiding her gently, slowly, easing her over to straddle his lap. His hands moved with practised familiarity, running along her hips, her back. Lucanis saw the way his thumbs avoided the fresh wound, how his palms skimmed where she could take pressure. Careful. Mindful always.
Still, there was no mistaking the ownership in the way Viago touched her. He wasn't asking.
"Any more contracts," Viago murmured against her collarbone, brushing kisses lower, "bring them to us first."
Starling's breath caught, her fingers curling against Viago's shoulders. "Why?" She asked, the word shaped like smoke, thin, sharp, and evasive. Her voice trembled with more than arousal. She always pulled when something real crept in.
Lucanis slid behind her again, his chest against her back, his arms encircling her. "So this doesn't happen again," he said, and his voice was lower now, more weighted. His hand came up to cradle her throat - not tightly, but firm enough to hold her still. To remind her who she belonged to.
Her head tilted back into his shoulder, and he kissed her jaw, then her mouth. Deep, slow, anchoring.
"We can verify it," he murmured against her lips.
His other hand came forward, finding her breast, thumb brushing over the nipple Viago wasn't teasing. Her breath hitched, a little noise escaping her throat - half-formed, almost a whimper. That sound ignited something hot and dark in Lucanis's blood.
"Sometimes we-" Starling started, but Viago's mouth closed over her again and she broke off with a gasp.
Lucanis kissed the edge of her ear, his voice a low drag of heat. "You run to us, Starling. For everything. Every contract. Every cut. Every time you think you can't handle it." His thumb pressed lightly at her pulse. "That's the price of this."
He could feel her trying to keep control - her spine taut, her fingers curled. She hadn't said yes. Not out loud.
But she hadn't said no either. So he kissed her again. Slower this time. As if she already belonged to them. Because she did. And she'd learn that, one surrender at a time.
"So if I can handle it," she murmured, breath ghosting over his lips, "it's fine?"
Viago growled low in his throat, the sound as smooth as it was dangerous, and closed his teeth gently around her nipple. Not enough to break skin, not enough to bruise, but enough to remind her who she was mouthing off to. She gasped, sharp and breathy. The smile faltered, lips parting with surprise. Good.
Lucanis's hand slid lower, beneath the water, down the slick line of her stomach, until his fingers dipped between her thighs. He found that spot he knew made her breath hitch, and when he brushed over it, her whole body gave a little shiver, as though her spine tried to arch in spite of the wound.
"Don't be a smart arse, Star," he said, voice rough velvet, low in her ear. His fingers moved again, slower now, teasing just at the edge of where she really wanted them. "You keep giving us attitude; we'll keep reminding you who you belong to."
Viago hummed agreement against her breast, his tongue soothing over the bite. "And I don't mind doing that all night."
Lucanis's other hand was at her waist now, steadying her, holding her exactly where he wanted. Beneath the water, she was warm and slick and trembling already, the wounded tension in her back forgotten for the moment. Every shudder, every soft breath, only made the need to own her worse.
"I don't want you walking the line," he said, more quietly now, mouth close to her jaw. "I want you choosing. No more half-measures."
She didn't answer, not with words. But her hands clutched tighter at Viago's shoulders. Her body didn't try to pull away. And when his finger finally pressed inside her, slow and deliberate, her head fell back against his shoulder with a broken, surrendering sound.
Progress. But he wasn't going to let her drift in it. Not yet. Not until the words came.
"Say it," he murmured at her temple. "Say who you run to."
There was a heartbeat of quiet, just her breath, the water lapping gently around them.
Then, "No one," she said, light and maddening. "Because I'm a grown-up."
Lucanis laughed. Low, dangerous. But far too fond. "Is that right?"
He stopped moving his fingers entirely, just holding them inside her, letting her feel the absence of pleasure. She shifted instinctively, chasing friction, but Viago's hands slid to her hips, keeping her pinned exactly where she was. His grip was gentle but firm and unyielding.
Her breath hitched. Her eyes fluttered open, grey-green and simmering with petulance, defiance - and something darker, deeper, just below the surface. Something that looked a lot like need.
Lucanis met that look, held it, and let his free hand trail across Viago's abdomen beneath the water. He wrapped his fingers around the other man's cock, hard and aching from where Starling straddled him, and began to stroke him slow and steady, a warning and a promise all at once.
Viago exhaled, tilting his head back, mouth parting as he let out a low moan. But Lucanis's eyes never left hers.
"You're not in control here, Star," he said, voice even, calm.
Her expression tightened, just barely. Her thighs flexed around Viago's hips again, like she could will the movement back into Lucanis's hand by sheer force of will.
Nothing. Lucanis gave Viago another slow stroke. The man's hips twitched, and his hands tightened on Starling's waist, holding her still.
"You think this is a game?" Lucanis asked, softly now. "Because we can play games. But they don't end the way you think they will."
Her gaze sharpened, narrowed, less out of anger, more frustration. Desire. Resentment. Longing. He knew that look. She wanted it. She just didn't want to want it.
"Say it," Lucanis said again, quieter now. "Say who you run to. Say who gets you out alive. Who protects you. Who keeps you."
His fingers still hadn't moved. Neither had Viago. The only motion in the room was the slow ripple of the bathwater, the twitch of Viago's thighs, and the way Starling's lashes fluttered, torn between surrender and that last damned thread of control she refused to let go of.
Lucanis leaned in again, mouth brushing the corner of hers. "You don't get to keep everything to yourself anymore," he whispered. "You're ours now. And it's time you said it."
There was a beat of silence, just her breath, hitched, soft, trembling through parted lips.
"I would be willing to… consider… advice… from more experienced colleagues."
Lucanis barked out a quiet laugh, low and sharp against her skin. Viago let out a more indulgent sound, a knowing hum that vibrated up through her where she straddled him.
"Colleagues," Lucanis repeated, the word like poison on his tongue but not without amusement. "That what we are to you?"
Her smirk was faint, but it was there - petulant and pleased with herself. Still deflecting. Still resisting, even as she trembled on the edge of surrender. But it was something.
Lucanis let his thumb drag slowly, deliberately, over the delicate bundle of nerves between her legs and watched the breath punch out of her. That perfect little gasp. The way her hands clenched on Viago's shoulders. Her thighs flexed, and Viago's grip on her hips tightened again, still keeping her from grinding down. Still holding her still.
"That's not quite what I asked you to say," Lucanis murmured, thumb teasing her again - slower now, featherlight. "But it'll do. For now."
He could feel Viago's body tensing beneath her, the way the other man's breath shuddered at every shift of Lucanis's hand on him. The heat in the room had nothing to do with the bathwater.
Lucanis leaned in again, his voice velvet and gravel by her ear. "You're not leaving again. You know that, don't you?"
She gave a breathless, snidely amused sound, her lips curving. "Next you'll be fitting me for a collar."
The words shouldn't have done what they did. But they did. His breath hitched. Just slightly, just enough. A collar. A mark for everyone to see - everyone in the hall, in the city, in the damn country. Something elegant and delicate, or tight and leather-bound, with a ring his fingers could hook into. A leash he could tug when she started running again. A tether he controlled.
Maker, he could see it. Her body bare save for the thing that told every other man - every Crow - that she belonged to someone. To them.
The way his mind surged with it made his stomach tighten. The heat of it ran too close to the edge of sanity, and he forced the thought down. Not yet. Maybe never. But fuck, it was tempting.
He slid his fingers from her, slow and unhurried, watching her shudder as they left her. She shot him a look, more teasing than reproachful.
Lucanis didn't say a word. He just shifted slightly and guided Viago's hips forward, one hand wrapping around the base of him, aligning him. Viago's breath stuttered, but his focus didn't break. He moved slow, measured, as Lucanis guided him into her.
Starling let out a soft gasp, her fingers tightening in Lucanis's hair where they'd already sunk. Her back arched just slightly, mindful of the wound, and Lucanis steadied her with a palm across her ribs.
His Star. Still bleeding. Still half-feral. Still pretending not to need anyone - until now.
Lucanis leaned in again, brushing her hair from her face with one hand, his lips brushing her temple, breath hot against her skin.
"You want a collar, little bird?" He murmured darkly. "Careful. We just might give you one."
And fuck, she didn't flinch away from that. Lucanis smiled, slow and dangerous. The idea wasn't dead. Just… deferred. For now.
Starling moved with practised confidence, all sharp hips and arched spine, riding Viago like she knew exactly what he liked - what they both liked. Her hand reached back, fingers wrapping around Lucanis with casual, unrepentant hunger, drawing a low groan from his throat.
--
Viago's head tipped back against the edge of the tub, water sloshing gently with every shift of their bodies. He let his eyes drift closed for a moment, just feeling it: the heat, the steam, her breath against his neck, the weight of Lucanis pressed in behind her.
The three of them, tangled like this - this was how it was supposed to be.
His hand slid up her spine, careful of the wound, his other gripping her hip tighter when her pace faltered, then picked up again. Her breath hitched, and Viago caught the sound against his mouth with a kiss, firm and claiming.
The collar idea, she'd said it as a joke. A snide little quip. A deflection wrapped in sarcasm. But Viago had seen what it did to Lucanis. The sharp flash in his eyes, the way he went still. And Viago? He didn't hate it.
A collar wasn't just a symbol of control - it was claim, visible and deliberate. No ambiguity. No room for her to pretend this didn't mean something. Lucanis would wear the control like a weapon. Viago would wield it like a seduction. And Starling - independent, guarded, clever little thing - might fight it. But not because she didn't want it. Because she did, and that terrified her.
She wouldn't wear it yet. But she'd put the idea in their hands. And Viago didn't forget a gift like that.
--
Viago towelled off first, watching the way the steam curled around her skin as she climbed carefully out of the bath. She was still moving a little stiffly, careful of the stitched wound across her back. Lucanis offered his hand, steadying her without a word, and Viago handed her one of his tunics, loose, soft, and long enough to count for modesty if she cared about such things. She rarely did.
"No pants?" She asked, arching a brow as she pulled it over her head.
Viago gave her a smile that didn't quite reach innocence. "You don't need them."
Lucanis huffed something like agreement and pushed open the bath chamber doors, the three of them padding back through the quiet halls. The estate had fallen into its usual hush, servants well-trained not to gawk or ask questions. Not that any would have dared. Not when she was flanked by them.
Back in Lucanis's rooms, the midday sun cut softly through the blinds. The sitting room was freshly cleaned, the remnants of last night scrubbed away as if it had never happened. But Viago could still feel it. The weight of it. The bolt through the window. Her blood on Cade's hands. The fight. The confessions.
Lucanis went to the bell cord and gave it a sharp tug.
"I'll have food brought up," he said over his shoulder. "You haven't eaten." A glance to Starling. "You'll eat before you disappear again."
She didn't argue. Another small mercy. Viago settled on the edge of the bed as he watched her cross the room. That shirt hung on her like a claimed thing, bare-legged, bruised, and unmistakably theirs. Not a mark of shame on her. She had the spine of someone who'd clawed her way through worse.
He stretched back onto the bed as she joined him, curling into the pillows, her muscles clearly tired but her mind still humming. He could see it in her eyes. She was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Lucanis sank into the chair by the hearth, his posture deceptively lazy as he reached for his boots. Viago knew better. He was already thinking ahead.
"We'll need to check in with Caterina," Lucanis said. "Make sure no one's gotten clever while we've been busy."
Viago nodded. "She's likely still occupied with the mess we fed her. Vasha and Jacek will keep her busy for a while."
He let his eyes drift back to Starling. Her lashes were low, almost closed, but not fully. Not asleep, not quite safe enough to let go yet.
"We should go soon," Lucanis muttered, rising again. "While she's still too tired to leave."
Viago reached out, brushing hair back from Starling's temple. She leaned into it, just slightly. A flicker of softness beneath the sharp edges.
"She's not running today," Viago said quietly.
Lucanis gave a low, noncommittal sound. They both knew better than to trust peace when it came easy. But for now, they'd take it. Let her eat. Let her rest. Then they'd tighten the reins again.