Chapter 68
Kara
The scent of pine and cinnamon fills the air as we move toward the massive Christmas tree. Its silver branches glitter with ice-blue lights and crystal snowflake ornaments—beautiful and cold, just like everything else in this house.
Except now, three pairs of blue eyes watch me like I'm the only warmth in their frozen world.
"Kara?" Cole's hand finds mine. "You okay?"
I nod, though my throat is tight. The tree towers above us, surrounded by mountains of perfectly wrapped gifts. Gold paper. Silver ribbons. Everything expensive and pristine.
I think of the three small boxes hidden in Cole's room—gifts I made myself because I have no money for anything else.
"Here." I pull the boxes from my cardigan pocket, hands shaking. "These are... I mean, they're not much, but—"
"You got us gifts?" Blake's voice cracks. His fire-and-gunpowder scent intensifies, mixing with something sweeter. Vulnerable.
"Of course I did." My cheeks burn. "It's Christmas."
---
I hand Asher his box first.
He opens it slowly, reverently. Inside: a titanium bookmark I ordered months ago with my tutoring money. Engraved with ancient pack runes.
"Strength in Unity," Asher reads, voice barely audible. His fingers tremble as he traces the symbols.
"It's for your law books," I explain quickly. "You're always reading those huge textbooks, and I thought—"
He presses the bookmark to his chest. Right over his heart.
"This is the most precious thing I've ever been given." His ebony-and-tobacco scent warms, develops an edge of caramel sweetness I've never smelled before.
Alpha scents don't go sweet. Not unless—
"Thank you," he whispers. "Kara. Thank you."
His eyes flash gold. Full wolf. Right there in the living room.
I swallow hard and turn to Blake.
---
Blake tears into his wrapping like a child on Christmas morning. Inside: a hand-bound sketchbook, cover decorated with my amateur carbon-pencil drawing of the aurora borealis.
He goes completely still.
Opens to the first page.
Where I've drawn him—wolf form, caught mid-leap during one of our runs. The proportions are wrong and the shading is terrible, but I spent hours on it.
"You..." His throat works. "You drew me?"
"I'm not very good," I mumble. "But you said once that you wished you could see yourself from outside your own eyes, so I thought—"
Blake crushes the sketchbook to his chest. His gunpowder scent explodes with something sharp and salty.
Like ocean spray. Like tears.
"I'm keeping this forever," he chokes out. "Kara. Baby. I—" His voice breaks entirely.
I've never seen Blake cry before.
My wolf whimpers. Mate hurts. Fix. Fix fix fix—
---
Cole takes his gift with both hands, reverent as a prayer.
The small box contains a braided red cord bracelet—traditional wolf-pack weaving pattern, meant to symbolize protection.
I learned the pattern from a library book. Spent three weeks getting it right.
Cole stares at it for a long moment.
Then kneels.
Right there. On the floor. In front of me.
He fastens the bracelet around his wrist, then presses his forehead to my knees.
"I will guard this with my life," he whispers. "I will guard you with my life."
His mint-and-ozone scent develops notes of sweet morning dew. Clean and grateful and so, so gentle.
"Cole." I touch his hair—soft black silk under my fingers. "It's just a bracelet."
"It's you." He looks up, eyes wet. "It's proof you thought about me. Cared enough to make something with your own hands. For me."
The weight of their reactions crushes my chest.
These tiny gifts—things that cost me almost nothing—mean more to them than...
Than what?
I look at the mountain of presents under the tree. Designer labels. Expensive wrapping.
What are they about to give me?
---
"Our turn." Asher's voice is rough. He clears his throat, visibly pulling himself together. "Though after those gifts, I'm not sure ours will measure up."
"That's not—" I start.
"Sit." Blake guides me to the massive leather sofa. "Trust us, Baby. Just... sit."
I perch on the edge, knees pressed together, hands twisted in my lap.
The three of them exchange glances. Some silent communication through their triplet bond.
Then Asher retrieves a large silver case from behind the tree.
---
"First gift," Asher says, setting the case at my feet. "Open it."
I unlatch the clasps with trembling fingers.
Inside: professional aurora photography equipment. A Nikon Z9 camera with multiple lenses. Tripod. Thermal clothing rated for minus-sixty degrees. Arctic wilderness navigation gear.
And a business card that reads: Exclusive Luna Aurora Guide Service
"Available 24/7 for Luna Kara Sterling's convenience"
"You said you wanted to see the full aurora cycle," Blake explains. His gunpowder scent is thick, almost choking. "This equipment will let you photograph it. Document it. Make it yours."
He pauses, eyes flashing gold.
"And we'll be with you. Every step. You explore freely—we protect."
My hands hover over the camera. It's beautiful. Top-of-the-line. Probably costs more than—
Don't think about the price. Don't calculate the debt.
"I've never used a camera like this before," I whisper.
"Dr. Harrison teaches a photography elective," Cole says gently. "We already enrolled you. If you want."
They thought of everything.
They're giving me freedom—with a safety net.
My throat aches. "Thank you."
But Blake's eyes narrow. "You're doing that thing again."
"What thing?"
"That polite-gratitude thing." He crouches in front of me, hands on my knees. "This isn't charity, Kara. This is us giving our Luna the tools to chase her dreams."
Our Luna.
The title makes my wolf preen and my human side panic.
"There's more," Asher says quietly.
---
He opens a small velvet box.
Inside: a delicate silver necklace with three ice-blue sapphires set in an intricate wolf-pattern. But it's not just jewelry—it's a collar. Designed to rest against the throat.
The Luna collar.
My breath stops.
"It's a pheromone regulator," Asher explains, voice clinical. Professional. "Specifically designed for Lunas who mate with multiple Alphas."
He lifts the necklace, letting the sapphires catch the light.
"It will suppress your scent when you need privacy. Prevent other Alphas from scenting your fertility. And during our Ruts—" His jaw tightens. "—it will help you withstand the combined intensity of three Alpha pheromones without burning out."
"Burning out?" My voice sounds small.
"Triple marking is dangerous." Cole takes my hand. "The Luna collar will regulate the pheromone exchange. Keep you safe."
Blake adds roughly: "And it marks you as ours. Any wolf who sees this will know you're claimed. Protected. Untouchable."
I stare at the collar.
It's beautiful. Practical. Terrifying.
Because once I put this on, everyone will know.
I'm theirs.
"You don't have to wear it yet," Asher says quickly, reading my expression.