Chapter 51
Kara
Dinner is surreal.
Blake orders us a private booth with panoramic windows, and Asher and Cole flank me on either side while Blake sits across from us, his eyes never leaving my face.
When the waitress—Iris—brings the menus, she "accidentally" drops mine on the floor. Cole retrieves it immediately, his mint scent flaring with irritation.
Then she makes her move.
"Given your... figure, Miss Kara," Iris says with fake sweetness, "might I suggest our light salad option? Only 300 calories, perfect for ladies watching their weight."
The table goes nuclear.
Blake's eyes flash gold, his chair screeching as he stands. "What the FUCK did you just say?"
His gunpowder scent explodes, filling the booth with rage, and Iris stumbles backward, nearly dropping her tray.
But before Blake can destroy her, I grab his hand.
"Blake. Sit down."
He freezes, staring at me like I've grown a second head.
I turn to Iris, my voice calm and cold. "I'll have the Alaskan king crab legs with garlic butter, the eight-ounce ribeye steak cooked medium, and the crème brûlée for dessert. Is that clear enough for you?"
Cole snorts into his water glass. Asher's lips twitch with approval.
Iris flushes crimson and flees.
And I realize—
I just defended myself.
Not because I had to. Not because no one else would.
But because I chose to.
Blake sinks back into his seat, his eyes still gold, and when I lean across the table to kiss his cheek, he makes a sound like a wounded animal.
"Thank you," I whisper. "For wanting to fight for me. But I need you to know—I can fight for myself now."
And the look on his face—awe, pride, hunger—makes the last ice around my heart crack just a little.
---
Blake
The kiss on my cheek—that single, tentative touch of her lips—short-circuits my entire nervous system.
My wolf surges forward, desperate to claim, to mark, to possess. But I force myself to stay still, to let her control this moment.
When she pulls back, her brown eyes are wide with something I can't quite name. Fear? Curiosity? Desire?
All three, maybe.
"That was for defending me," she whispers. "Even though I didn't need it."
Asher leans forward, his black ebony scent wrapping around us both. "Since we're exchanging gifts tonight..."
Cole's mint scent spikes with mischief. "I think it's time we made something clear to everyone in this restaurant."
I catch his meaning immediately through the mind-link, and my pulse kicks into overdrive.
Are we really doing this? Here? Now?
Asher: She kissed Blake first. That's permission enough.
Cole: Pre-marking. Just enough to let the Pack know she's ours without completing the bond.
Blake (me): If she says stop—
Asher: We stop. Obviously.
I turn back to Kara, whose face has shifted from confident to wary. She can sense the change in our scents—the way they're thickening, spiraling with intent.
"What are you planning?" she asks, her voice barely audible over the soft classical music playing in the restaurant.
"A trade," Cole says, sliding closer to her on the booth's bench. "You kissed Blake. Now we'd like to... return the favor."
Her breath catches. "Return the—what?"
Asher's hand cups her chin, tilting her face toward him. "Kiss marks, Kara. Temporary marks. Not the full bond—you're not ready for that, and we respect it. But enough to let every wolf in this building know that you're ours."
"And," I add, my voice dropping to a growl, "that we're yours."
---
Kara
My heart is a drum solo in my chest.
Kiss marks.
I know what they mean in wolf culture—I've seen them on mated pairs, on Alphas and their Lunas. Dark purple bruises on the neck, positioned near the scent glands, visible proof of claim and possession.
But these wouldn't be permanent. Wouldn't lock me in.
They'd fade in a few days.
So why does the idea make my core clench with want?
My wolf is practically singing: YES! Mark us! Let everyone KNOW!
But my human side hesitates. "If I let you do this... it doesn't mean I'm agreeing to the full bond. Not yet."
"We know," Asher says gently. "This is just... a preview. A promise."
Blake's golden eyes are molten. "Say yes, Baby. Let me put my mouth on you. Let me show every wolf in this territory that you belong to the Sterling Triplets."
The possessiveness in his voice should scare me.
Instead, it makes heat pool between my thighs.
"Okay," I breathe. "But—but you have to let me mark you back. Fair trade."
The three of them go utterly still.
Then Cole grins, feral and delighted. "Oh, Princess. You have no idea what you're offering."
"Explain it to me, then."
Asher's thumb traces my lower lip, and I shiver. "When an Alpha is marked by their mate—even temporarily—it's a form of submission. It's the Alpha saying, 'I trust you enough to let you put your teeth on me.' It's rare. Precious. And it will drive our wolves insane with joy."
Blake's voice is pure gravel. "You mark us, Kara, and we'll be your fucking slaves."
I should be intimidated.
I should run.
Instead, I hear myself say, "Then let's start."
---
Cole
I move first, because I'm the least likely to lose control and accidentally complete the bond.
I hope.
I slide behind Kara on the curved booth, gently gathering her golden curls to one side, exposing the graceful column of her right neck. Her pulse is racing beneath her pale skin, and the scent of her arousal—sweet, like white musk and freshly fallen snow—is making my peppermint scent spiral out of control.
"Breathe," I whisper against her ear. "Just breathe, Princess."
She obeys, her chest rising and falling, and I press a soft kiss to the junction of her neck and shoulder.
She whimpers.
The sound goes straight to my cock, and I have to bite back a groan. Focus, Cole. This is about HER.
I kiss her again, slower this time, tracing the line of her scent gland with my tongue. She tastes like snowstorms and something uniquely her—clean and pure and ours.
Then I set my teeth against her skin and suck.
---
Kara
The sensation is overwhelming.
Cole's mouth is hot and wet and insistent, and every pull of suction sends lightning bolts straight to my core. My nipples harden beneath the velvet dress, and I'm suddenly, desperately aware of how empty I feel, how much I want—
No. Not yet. Not here.
But my body doesn't care about logic.
My hips shift restlessly, seeking friction, and Blake's nostrils flare from across the table. He can smell my arousal, can probably see the way my thighs are clenching together beneath my dress.
Cole pulls back, and I feel the wet heat of the mark he's left—a deep, aching throb that makes me dizzy.
"There," he murmurs, his mint scent now laced with satisfaction. "Beautiful."
Asher's turn.
He doesn't ask permission. Just slides his hand into my hair, tilting my head to expose my left side, and leans in.
His black ebony scent is everywhere—smoky, authoritative, and somehow grounding. When his lips touch my neck, I feel the tension I've been carrying for days start to unravel.
"Relax," he commands softly, and my wolf obeys before I can stop her.
My body goes pliant in his hold, and when he bites down—not hard enough to break skin, but firm enough to claim—I moan.
Out loud.
In a public restaurant.
Blake's eyes flash gold.