Chapter 52
Blake
Control. Control. Control.
My wolf is clawing at my insides, demanding I vault over this table, sink my teeth into Kara's throat, and complete the bond right fucking now.
But I won't.
Because she's not ready.
And because the way she's responding to Asher and Cole—her little gasps, the flush spreading down her chest, the way her scent is thickening into pure, concentrated need—is the most erotic thing I've ever witnessed.
When Asher finally pulls back, there's a matching purple mark on her left side, positioned slightly lower than Cole's—closer to the actual marking gland.
A silent claim: I'm the eldest. I have priority.
And now it's my turn.
I stand, circling the table, and Kara's eyes track me like a prey animal watching a predator. But there's no fear in her gaze.
Only anticipation.
"My mark goes here," I say, trailing a finger down the back of her neck—the most vulnerable spot, the place where dominance is asserted. "Is that okay?"
She nods, breathless.
I don't give her time to second-guess.
I pull her up from the booth, spin her around, and press her front against my chest so her back is exposed. Then I sweep her curls aside and devour the nape of her neck.
She cries out—a sharp, startled sound—and her nails dig into my shoulders through my shirt.
I suck hard, letting my wolf's aggression bleed into the mark, and she trembles in my arms, her knees buckling.
"Blake—" Her voice is wrecked, pleading. "I can't—it's too much—"
I pull back immediately, my breath ragged. "Did I hurt you?"
"No." She's panting, her pupils blown wide. "But if you keep touching me like that, I'm going to—" She cuts herself off, cheeks flaming.
Oh, fuck.
She's close. Right here in this restaurant, she's close to coming just from our marks.
Asher and Cole are staring at me through the mind-link, their wolves just as feral as mine:
Asher: Do NOT push her over the edge in public, Blake. I swear to God—
Cole: But holy SHIT, did you see the way she responded—
Blake (me): I KNOW. I'm dying here.
I guide Kara back into the booth, and she collapses against Cole, her chest heaving. Three marks now bloom on her neck—purple bruises that will darken over the next few hours.
Everyone in this restaurant will know.
Everyone in the Pack will know.
She's ours.
But then Kara lifts her head, her brown eyes suddenly sharp with determination.
"My turn," she says.
---
Kara
The marks on my neck are burning—not with pain, but with a strange, euphoric heat that's spreading through my entire body. I can feel their claims like brands, like promises, like chains.
And I want to return them.
I want to put my mark on these Alphas, to make them understand that if they're claiming me, then I'm claiming them right back.
"Cole first," I say, my voice steadier than I feel.
He blinks, startled. "Me?"
"You were first. So you're first again."
He shifts closer, and I can see the tremble in his hands, the way his mint scent is shaking with barely restrained need.
I lean forward, awkward and uncertain, and press my lips to the right side of his neck.
He gasps, his whole body going rigid.
Encouraged, I open my mouth and suck—hard—mimicking what he did to me.
"Kara—" His voice breaks, and his hands fly to my waist, gripping so tight I know there will be bruises tomorrow. "Fuck, fuck, you're—"
I pull back, examining my work. The mark is messier than theirs, less precise, but it's there. Visible. Mine.
"Blake next," I say, emboldened now.
Blake is already leaning forward, his neck exposed, his eyes squeezed shut like he's bracing for impact.
I climb across the booth—completely forgetting about modesty—and straddle his lap.
His eyes snap open, gold bleeding into the blue. "Kara, you can't—if you sit on me like this, I'm going to—"
"I know," I whisper, and I bite down on the left side of his neck, just above his collarbone.
He roars.
The sound is animalistic, raw, and every wolf in the restaurant snaps their heads toward us. I feel his cock, hard and thick, pressing against my core through our clothes, and the friction is divine.
I suck harder, grinding down on him, and he grabs my hips, stilling me.
"Stop," he gasps. "Please, Baby, stop or I'm going to come in my fucking jeans in front of the entire Pack."
I pull back, breathing hard, and stare at the dark purple bruise I've left on his neck.
Mine.
Finally, Asher.
He's watching me with an intensity that makes my skin prickle. When I approach him, he doesn't move—just sits perfectly still, waiting.
"Where do you want it?" I ask.
His voice is low, reverent. "The back of my neck. Where you put yours on Blake."
I pause. "That's the... the dominance spot."
"I know." He turns, presenting his nape to me. "I'm submitting to you, Kara. My future Luna. Mark me."
The vulnerability in the gesture makes my throat tight.
I press my lips to the back of his neck, and he shudders, his black ebony scent going soft and sweet—an Alpha yielding.
When I bite down, he makes a sound I've never heard from him before: a whimper.
Asher Sterling, the controlled, authoritative eldest triplet, is whimpering because I'm marking him.
I pull back, awed.
---
Asher
The bond between us sings.
Not the full mate bond—not yet—but something powerful and undeniable. Our scents are completely intertwined now: her white musk and snow blending with my ebony, Blake's gunpowder, and Cole's peppermint.
We smell like a Pack.
A family.
And every wolf in this restaurant can sense it.
When I turn back to face Kara, she's staring at the three of us with wonder and fear in her eyes.
"This is real," she whispers. "Isn't it? This is actually happening."
"Yes," I say simply. "And there's no going back. Not for us."
Cole wraps an arm around her shoulders. "But you still have seven months. We're not rushing you. We'll wait as long as you need."
Blake presses a kiss to her marked neck, and she shivers. "Now let's feed you. Because I saw the way you looked at those crab legs."
---
Kara
The food arrives, and for the first time in my life, I'm not afraid to eat.
Blake cracks open the king crab legs for me, dipping the white meat in garlic butter before holding it to my lips. "Open."
I obey, and the flavor explodes on my tongue—rich, buttery, perfect.
Cole cuts my steak into bite-sized pieces, his mint scent curling around me like a protective shield. Asher spoons crème brûlée into my mouth, his eyes never leaving mine.
They take turns feeding me, praising me, touching me—and for the first time in ten years, I feel safe.
Not because I'm strong enough to protect myself.
But because I'm finally letting someone else share the burden.
When the meal is over, Blake carries me out to the truck (despite my protests), and we drive to a clearing outside the estate where the sky is dark and clear.
"Wait for it," Cole whispers, pointing up.
And then—
The aurora.
Green and purple ribbons of light ripple across the sky, dancing like liquid silk, and I can't breathe for the beauty of it.
"This is what we wanted to show you," Asher says, pulling me against his chest. "This is what it feels like to be with us. Light in the darkness. A promise that even when everything feels hopeless, there's still beauty."
Tears stream down my face, freezing on my cheeks.
And for the first time since my parents left me on that doorstep ten years ago, I think:
Maybe I can be happy here.
Maybe I can be loved.
Maybe I'm finally home.