Chapter 44
Kara
The kiss on Blake's cheek lingers like a brand. My lips still tingle from the contact, and his gunpowder scent has shifted—warm, almost sweet, like I've somehow tamed the explosive edge of it.
What the hell am I doing?
But my wolf purrs contentedly, settling into Blake's warmth like she's finally found home.
I pull back slightly, still perched on Blake's lap, acutely aware of Asher's solid presence on my other side and Cole watching from the armchair with those hopeful blue eyes.
"There's something..." I start, then pause. Asking for help feels dangerous. Like opening a door I've kept locked for ten years. "Something I need to ask you."
Blake's hand stills on my waist. Asher straightens beside me. Cole leans forward.
"Anything, Baby," Blake says, and for once there's no cocky edge to his voice. Just sincerity.
I take a breath. "The shift last night... it felt like my bones were shattering. Like I was dying." My fingers clench around the fabric of my sleep shirt. "But you three—you shifted in seconds. No screaming, no collapsing. Just... smooth."
I meet Blake's gold eyes. "Can you teach me how to make it hurt less? I don't want to go through that every time."
The silence stretches for a heartbeat.
Then Blake's face crumples—not with pity, but with something that looks like regret mixed with determination. "Fuck, we should've thought of that right away."
"You're absolutely right to ask." Asher's ebony scent solidifies, taking on that authoritative note that means he's shifting into Alpha mode—but the gentle kind, not the commanding one. "As a newly awakened wolf, mastering the shift is your top priority. We'll teach you how to work with your wolf instead of fighting her."
Cole practically bounces out of his chair, mint scent sparking with excitement. "I can demonstrate in slow motion! You'll be able to see each step!"
Despite everything—despite the confusion and fear and anger still churning in my gut—I feel something loosen in my chest.
They're taking this seriously. Not dismissing me, not mocking my weakness.
Actually helping.
---
Twenty minutes later, we're standing in the frozen wasteland behind Midnight Estate.
The cold hits like a physical force. Even through my new Goose parka—one of yesterday's gifts—the wind finds every gap, every exposed inch of skin. Snow crunches under my boots, and my breath comes out in white clouds.
The ice river stretches before us, a vast expanse of white broken only by the dark line where the frozen surface meets the forest edge. This is where they brought me seven years ago. Where they left me to die.
My body remembers. Muscles tensing, heart rate spiking.
No. Focus. They're different now. Maybe.
Asher stands before me, the others flanking him. "Pain comes from resistance," he begins, his voice carrying easily across the snow. "Your human consciousness fighting your wolf for control. The trick is to surrender. Let your wolf guide the process."
Blake picks up the thread. "Think of your bones as liquid, not solid. Water flowing into a new shape."
"And breathe," Cole adds, his mint scent calming despite the arctic wind. "Deep breaths before you start. Let your scent fill your lungs. It wakes up the wolf."
I nod, committing it to memory.
"We'll demonstrate," Asher says, already reaching for the hem of his shirt. "Watch closely."
Then they start stripping.
Oh shit. Oh fuck.
I know it's coming—Cole warned me yesterday that clothes don't survive shifts—but knowing doesn't prepare me for this.
Asher pulls his black thermal over his head in one fluid motion, and my brain short-circuits.
Jesus Christ.
Muscle. Everywhere. His chest is a roadmap of defined abs, thick pectorals, shoulders that could probably bench-press a car. Scars crisscross his torso—proof of battles, training, the brutal life of an Alpha—but they only make him look more... more dangerous. More powerful.
My mouth goes dry.
Blake follows suit, yanking his shirt off with characteristic impatience. His build is slightly broader than Asher's—more raw power than refined athleticism. A tattoo snakes across his left ribcage, some kind of tribal wolf design I've never noticed before.
Stop staring. Stop fucking staring.
But I can't. My eyes are glued to the flex of muscle as he tosses the shirt aside, the way his jeans hang low on his hips, revealing that V-line that disappears beneath the waistband.
Heat floods my face. Lower. Much lower.
No. Absolutely not. You are NOT getting turned on by the assholes who made your life hell.
Except my body doesn't give a damn about logic. My wolf is practically howling with approval, and my traitorous human side is right there with her.
Cole is the last to undress, and somehow that's worse because he's smiling at me while he does it. That gentle, knowing smile that says he's fully aware of what this is doing to me.
His body is leaner than his brothers'—swimmer's build rather than linebacker—but no less impressive. Defined arms, narrow waist, legs that go on forever.
They stand before me completely naked, and I want to die.
Or possibly jump them. Fuck, what is wrong with me?
"It's natural to feel... affected," Cole says softly, and his mint scent carries a hint of amusement. "The mate bond responds to physical attraction."
"I'm not—I don't—" My voice comes out strangled. I spin around, facing the forest, cheeks burning despite the freezing temperature. "Just get on with it."
Blake's low chuckle doesn't help. "Whatever you say, Baby."
I squeeze my eyes shut, but that somehow makes it worse. Now all I can do is smell them—ebony and gunpowder and mint intensifying without the distraction of clothing, mixing with something earthier, more primal.
My core clenches involuntarily.
Damn it. Damn it to hell.
"Deep breath," Asher instructs, and I can hear the shift beginning. "Watch when you're ready. The visual will help you understand."
I force my eyes open, keeping my gaze carefully elevated.
Safe. Focus on the shift, not on the fact that three gorgeous Alphas just stripped naked in front of you and your body is betraying you in every possible way.
Three sets of eyes close. Three chests rise and fall in synchronized breathing. Then... light. A silvery glow emanating from their skin as their scents surge—ebony and gunpowder and mint swirling together into something headier than the sum of its parts.
Bones shift. But there's no cracking, no visible pain. Just fluid transformation, like watching time-lapse footage of ice melting and reforming.
Ten seconds.
Ten seconds, and three massive black wolves stand before me. Silver-tipped fur, gold eyes, towering over the snow.
They're... magnificent.
My wolf whines softly inside me, wanting to join them.
And my human side is still recovering from the sight of all that bare skin and muscle.
Get it together, Kara. You're here to learn, not to ogle.
"Okay," I whisper to myself, voice shaky. "My turn."