Chapter 67
Kara
"That means our pheromone frequencies are synchronized. Perfectly aligned. The Moon Goddess designed us to share one mate because our biology is essentially one wolf split into three bodies."
His thumb strokes my cheek. "If you mark only me? If you complete the mate bond with just me?"
His voice drops. "Asher and Blake will experience Mate Bond severance. It's like... cutting off a limb. Except the limb is your soul. It will drive them insane. Eventually kill them."
My blood turns to ice. "What?"
"And I'll feel their death through our triplet link." His smile is broken. Bitter. "Watching my brothers die because they lost you—feeling their agony in real-time through our shared consciousness? That's the same as killing myself, Kara. I wouldn't survive it."
I'm shaking now. Full-body tremors.
"That Christmas," I whisper. "When Blake locked me in the storage room. When Asher sealed the door. You—"
"I snuck you out that night." His voice is hollow. "I brought you food. But I didn't stand up to them publicly. Didn't tell our parents what they'd done. I hid you in my room like a secret instead of defending you in the light."
His eyes are wet. "I'm a coward, Kara. I always have been. I'm guilty too."
---
Outside Cole's door, Blake sits on the floor, back against the wall. Head in his hands.
"She called us demons." His voice is wrecked. "She's right."
Asher leans against the opposite wall. Eyes closed. Every line of his body radiates tension.
"That Christmas when I locked the storage room door." His voice is barely audible. "I looked at her through the crack. Saw her crying. And I walked away."
Blake's hands shake. "I stomped on her snowman. Didn't even think about what it meant to her."
Silence.
Then Blake surges to his feet. Walks to Cole's door. Presses his forehead against the wood.
"Kara!" His voice cracks. "I know you can hear me!"
Pause.
"That Christmas—the storage room—I thought it was just discipline. Just teaching you responsibility." His fist clenches against the wood. "I didn't think about how dark it was. How cold. How fucking terrified you must have been."
His voice breaks. "And those snowmen. You spent days making them. I know that now—I saw the photos I took, the ones in my room. I watched you work on them. And when I saw them by the tree, all I thought was 'Mom's going to yell about the wet carpet.'"
"I'm scum, Kara. I know that. But if you want revenge?" His breathing is ragged. "I'll lie naked in the snow for a full day. You want to hit me? I'll wear my thickest leather jacket and you can use a whip until you're satisfied."
He's crying. Blake—rough, crude, violent Blake—is crying.
"But don't ignore me. Don't look at me like I'm a stranger. Hate me, hit me, scream at me. Anything but that look—like I don't exist."
Asher steps up beside Blake. His voice is controlled. But only just.
"Kara, I owe you an explanation. Not an excuse—there is no excuse. But an explanation."
"When I locked that storage room door, it wasn't because I didn't care." He swallows hard. "It was because I cared too much. I was already developing feelings for you. Had been for years. But admitting that meant betraying everything my parents taught me about hierarchy. About your place in this family."
"So I chose cowardice. I locked the door and told myself it was discipline. Told myself you needed to learn responsibility."
His voice drops to a whisper. "Those snowmen. I didn't see you watching when I kicked mine. I was focused on my mother—on avoiding her anger. And I used that as an excuse to not think about your feelings."
"I pretended if I didn't look at you, I wouldn't have to feel guilty."
Pause.
"I love you, Kara." His voice cracks. "I love you. First time I've ever said that to anyone. And I know I don't deserve to say it after what I've done."
"But every night, remembering what I did to you breaks my heart. And every morning, seeing that you're still here—that you haven't run—heals it."
"I don't deserve your forgiveness. But I'm asking for the chance to earn it."
---
Inside the room, I hear every word through the door.
My wolf is keening—high, mournful sound of distress.
Cole holds me tighter. "They mean it, Kara. I know it doesn't fix anything. But they mean it."
I bury my face in his shoulder. Sob.
"I'm so tired of being angry," I whisper. "But I don't know how to stop."
"You don't have to stop." His hand strokes my hair. "Be angry. Be hurt. Be whatever you need to be. We'll wait."
I pull back. Look at him through tears.
"I don't hate them anymore," I finally say.
Cole's eyes widen.
"I don't hate them. I hate what they did. But the hate itself—it's exhausting. I can't carry it anymore."
I stand. Walk to the door. Hand on the knob.
"But I need time," I say to the wood. Knowing they can hear. "To believe you've actually changed."
I open the door.
They're both on their knees.
Alphas. On their knees.
In wolf society, that's the ultimate submission. Alphas don't kneel. Not to anyone except the Moon Goddess herself.
Blake looks up at me. Face wet. "That's enough. God, Kara, that's enough."
He doesn't ask permission. Just lunges forward, wraps his arms around my waist, buries his face in my stomach.
Asher stays kneeling. Watching.
"We'll earn it," he says quietly. "Every day. For the rest of our lives."
---
We end up in the hallway. All four of us.
The grandparents are somewhere downstairs—probably judging the tree decorations or critiquing Victoria's menu choices.
I don't care.
Asher cups my face in both hands. His touch is reverent. Worshipful.
Then he kisses me.
Not like this morning—not restrained or careful. This kiss is claiming. Desperate. He pours everything into it: regret, love, need, devotion.
His tongue maps my mouth like he's memorizing it. His teeth nip my lower lip. His hands slide into my hair, grip tight enough to sting.
When he finally releases me, I'm panting.
Blake is right there. Spins me, pushes me against the wall.
"My turn."
His kiss is fire. Aggressive. He doesn't just kiss—he devours. Bites my lip hard enough to make me gasp, then soothes it with his tongue. His hands grip my ass, lift me slightly off the ground, grind his hips against mine.
I can feel him. All of him. Hard and wanting and desperate.
"Blake—" I try to pull back.
"Just kissing," he growls against my mouth. "Nothing else. Promise."
Cole appears beside us. Gently turns my face toward him while Blake moves to my neck.
"My turn too," Cole whispers.
His kiss is different. Slow. Thorough. Sweet like mint and promise.
While Cole kisses my mouth, Blake kisses my throat—careful to avoid the scent gland, but close enough to make me shiver.
Asher kisses my shoulder through the cardigan. My collarbone. The shell of my ear.
Three mouths. Three different techniques. Three distinct flavors.
This is overwhelming this is too much I can't—
But my body disagrees. My body sings.
My white musk explodes—pure sugar, vanilla cream, fresh snow. The scent of mate recognition. Of acceptance.
They smell it. All three freeze.
"Kara?" Asher's voice is careful. Hopeful.
I'm trembling. Pressed against the wall, surrounded by them.
"This is your life now, Baby." Blake's grin is sharp. Wicked. "Triple the kisses. Triple the love. Triple everything."
I should be terrified.
Should push them away.
Should run.
Instead—I find myself smiling.
"Merry Christmas," I breathe.
Three voices answer as one:
"Merry Christmas, our Luna."