Chapter 59
Kara
Something in his expression cracks. He stands, walks toward me. Stops just close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his gaze.
"Thank you," he whispers. "For trusting us that much."
Trusting them?
Before I can respond, he leans down. Presses a kiss to my forehead—soft, reverent, aching.
My core clenches so hard I gasp.
Cole freezes.
"Kara." His voice drops. "Are you—did I hurt you?"
"No." Yes. God yes, but not the way you think. "I'm fine."
His eyes search mine. Then drop lower. To where I'm pressing my thighs together, trying to hide the evidence.
"Fuck," he breathes. "You're—"
"Don't." My voice cracks. "Please don't say it."
"Aroused." He says it anyway. "You're aroused."
Heat floods my face. "I'm not—"
"Your scent." His nostrils flare. "Kara, you smell like—"
"Stop." I cover my face with my hands. "Just—stop."
Silence.
Then his hand on my wrist, pulling my hands away.
"There's nothing wrong with wanting us," he says softly. "It's natural. You're our mate. We're yours."
"I know." My voice is barely a whisper. "That's what scares me."
He cups my face. Leans in until our foreheads touch.
"We'll wait," he promises. "As long as you need. But Kara—" His thumb brushes my lower lip. "When you're ready? We're going to worship you until you forget every bad thing we ever did."
My pussy clenches.
Hard.
"Cole—"
"I know." He pulls back. Smiles sadly. "Finish your homework. But if you need anything—anything—call me. Okay?"
Then he's gone too.
I sit frozen, hand pressed to where his lips touched.
Between my legs, I'm soaked.
Twenty minutes later, Asher.
He doesn't bring food. Doesn't speak at first. Just leans in the doorway, arms crossed, watching me struggle through a derivative problem.
Watching me squirm in my chair.
"That's wrong."
I glare at him. "Excuse me?"
"Chain rule. You forgot to multiply by the derivative of the inner function." He pushes off the doorframe, walks to my desk. Leans over my shoulder—ebony smoke flooding my lungs—and points at the equation. "Here. See?"
His chest brushes my back.
I bite my lip to suppress a moan.
Fuck. He's right about the math.
I erase the mistake, rework the problem. Get it right this time.
But I can't focus. Because he's still there. Still leaning over me. His scent wrapping around me like a physical touch.
"There." He sounds satisfied. "Smart girl."
The praise shouldn't affect me.
But my core clenches anyway.
Goddamn wolf biology.
"Don't patronize me," I mutter.
"I'm not." His hand settles on my shoulder—heavy, warm, grounding. "You're brilliant, Kara. I'm just... making sure you know it."
His thumb brushes the side of my neck. Over the kiss mark he left yesterday.
My breath hitches.
"Asher—"
"I can smell you." His voice drops. "Every time you shift in this chair. Every time you press your thighs together. I can smell how badly you want this."
Oh God.
"I don't—"
"Liar."
His hand slides down. Over my collarbone. Stops just above my breast.
"Tell me to stop," he murmurs. "And I will."
My mouth opens.
Nothing comes out.
Because I don't want him to stop.
I want him to keep going.
For a long moment, we stay frozen. His hand hovering. My heart pounding.
Then he pulls back.
"Finish your homework," he says roughly. "Before I forget I'm supposed to be a gentleman."
Before I can respond, he's gone.
---
At 7 PM, I finally finish my homework.
It should have taken an hour. I dragged it out to two and a half.
Because if I finish—
I'll have to face what comes next.
I close my textbook. Stack my papers. Stand—
And immediately feel the exhaustion hit.
Not physical. Emotional.
The weight of the day—the stares at school, the kiss marks on my neck, the car ride, the scent-marking, the constant awareness of them—
It crashes over me like a wave.
I need—
I need—
My wolf knows before I do.
Them. Need them. Pack.
No.
Yes.
I stumble to the bathroom. Run the tub. Sink into water so hot it stings.
But even surrounded by steam and lavender bubbles—
I can still smell them.
Asher's hoodie hangs on the back of the door. Blake's sweatpants in a puddle on the floor. Cole's T-shirt draped over the towel rack.
Their scents cling to everything.
Including me.
Between my legs, I still ache. The hot water does nothing to ease the throbbing.
Fuck it.
My hand drifts lower.
I'm so wet it's obscene. Slick and swollen and desperate.
My fingers find my clit. Circle slowly.
Asher's hand on my thigh. Blake's fingers in my hair. Cole's kiss on my forehead.
I bite my lip to suppress a moan.
This is wrong. They're in this house. They can probably hear—
My fingers move faster.
Blake's growl. "You're mine." Asher's thumb on my neck. Cole's breath against my ear.
My core clenches. Tightens.
So close—
A knock on the bathroom door.
I freeze.
"Kara?" Cole's voice. "You've been in there for forty minutes. You okay?"
Fuck.
"Fine!" My voice comes out strangled. "I'm—I'm fine!"
Silence.
Then: "You sure? Your heart rate is—"
"I'm fine!"
I hear him retreat.
My hand falls away from my clit. Throbbing. Unsatisfied.
Goddammit.
I close my eyes. Sink beneath the surface. Let the water muffle the world.
And admit the truth—
I don't want to sleep alone tonight.
---
I find them in Asher's room.
It's 8 PM. I'm freshly bathed, hair still damp, wearing the borrowed clothes again because—
Because I can't bring myself to take them off.
The door is ajar. Through the gap, I see them gathered around a holographic projection—a 3D map of Silver Frost territory floating in blue light above Asher's desk.
Pack borders. Neighboring territories. Resources.
They're discussing the inheritance ceremony on December 10th. Formal transfer of power from Alpha Marcus. Security concerns. Guest lists.
Asher stands at the center, one hand swiping through data. Blake sprawls on the couch, eyes tracking the map. Cole leans against the desk, tablet in hand, taking notes.
They haven't noticed me yet.
I could leave. Go back to my room. Suffer through another sleepless night alone—
No.
My hand lifts. Knocks.
Three heads swivel in unison.
For a heartbeat, no one moves.
Then Blake sees me.
Really sees me—standing in their doorway, drowning in their clothes, hair loose around my shoulders, bare feet on cold hardwood.
"Holy shit," he breathes.
Asher's eyes flash gold. Cole's tablet slips from his fingers, clattering to the floor.
"Kara." Asher's voice is rough. Strained. "What—do you need something?"
Yes.
No.
I don't know.