Chapter 84
Blake
Watching Kara laugh—really laugh, with her whole body—is the best fucking thing I've seen since her first orgasm last night.
Through the mind link: "She's adjusting faster than I expected," Asher observes. His black ebony is calm, controlled. "But we need to be careful. The fusion period can cause emotional whiplash. One minute she'll feel safe, the next she'll panic."
"Then we keep her grounded," I shoot back. "Whatever it takes."
Cole's mint filters through the link, tinged with worry. "The restaurant reservation is in three hours. Are we sure she's ready for a public appearance? The marks are going to attract attention."
"Let them stare," I growl. Both in the link and out loud.
Kara tilts her head, her golden curls catching the sunlight. "Let who stare?"
Fuck. She heard that.
"We have dinner reservations tonight," Asher explains smoothly. "At the hotel's signature restaurant. It's... formal. High-profile. Other wolves will be there."
I watch the color drain from her face. "Other wolves? You mean—they'll see the marks? They'll know we—"
"They'll know you're our Luna," I correct. I pull her against my chest, letting my scent wrap around her. "They'll know you're protected. Claimed. Off-limits to every unmated male on this island."
"Blake," Asher warns.
But Kara's looking up at me with those huge brown eyes, and I see it: she's not scared. She's... considering.
"What if they judge me?" she asks quietly. "What if they think I'm—I don't know—weak for accepting three Alphas? Or too young? Or—"
"Then they can go fuck themselves," I say flatly. "Luna, you took a triple marking. Do you understand how rare that is? How much strength that requires?"
Cole nods against her hair. "Most wolves can barely handle one Alpha's pheromones during a Rut. You handled three. Simultaneously. That makes you one of the strongest Lunas in existence."
"I didn't feel strong," Kara whispers. "I felt like I was drowning."
"But you didn't drown," Asher says. His hand cups her cheek, thumb brushing the spot where his mark lies hidden beneath her hair. "You survived. And tonight, when you walk into that restaurant with three marks on your neck and your head held high? Every wolf in that room will know: you're not just strong. You're ours."
Through the bond, I feel her shift. From fear to something else.
Pride.
Our girl is starting to understand her own power.
"Okay," she says. Her chin lifts. "I'll go. But—" She looks at each of us in turn. "—if it gets too much, if I need to leave early—"
"We leave," Cole says immediately. "No questions asked."
"And if anyone—anyone—disrespects you," I add, "I'm ripping their throat out."
"Blake." Asher's Alpha voice cuts through my growl. "We're trying to reassure her, not terrify the entire restaurant staff."
But Kara's smiling now. A real smile, soft and genuine. "I think I like Protective Blake."
"Yeah?" I lean down until our noses nearly touch. "You ain't seen nothing yet, Princess."
---
Kara
The afternoon passes in a blur.
They don't push for more physical intimacy—some unspoken agreement between them to let me recover. Instead, Cole reads to me on the daybed while I doze, his mint-scent a constant lullaby. Asher works on his laptop nearby, occasionally glancing over to check on me. Blake disappears and returns with fresh fruit, coconut water, a new sundress he "borrowed" from the hotel boutique.
It's... domestic. Comfortable.
Terrifying.
Because part of me keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop. For them to snap back into the cruel boys who shoved me into snowbanks and called me "Carrot."
But through the bond, I feel nothing but steady devotion. Asher's controlled protectiveness. Blake's fierce loyalty. Cole's gentle adoration.
They're not pretending. This is who they are now.
Or maybe—and this thought makes my chest ache—this is who they always were beneath the fear and cruelty.
At six PM, Cole helps me into the bathroom to get ready. The hotel has sent up a team of stylists (at whose request, I don't ask), and they transform me in under an hour.
My hair is swept into an elegant updo, exposing my neck. All three marks are on full display—silver crescents that catch the light like jewelry.
My dress is black—a designer piece with a plunging neckline and a slit up one thigh. Dangerous. Sexy.
Nothing like the debt-slave girl who scrubbed floors in oversized hand-me-downs.
When I step out, all three of them stop breathing.
"Holy shit," Blake breathes.
Asher's black ebony explodes through the bond, thick with barely restrained lust. "Kara, you—"
"You're a goddess," Cole finishes. His mint spikes, sweet and intoxicating. "Our goddess."
I feel my cheeks heat. "It's too much, isn't it? I can change—"
"Don't you dare," Blake growls. He crosses the room in three strides and drops to his knees in front of me. His eyes are pure gold as he presses his lips to my marked skin—first Cole's mark, then Asher's, then his own. "Every wolf in that restaurant is going to lose their fucking minds. And I'm going to love watching them realize they can't have you."
Through the bond, I feel his smugness. His pride.
And underneath it—love. Raw, unfiltered, all-consuming love.
"We should go," Asher says roughly. He offers me his arm, ever the gentleman. "Before I decide to keep you in this room for the rest of the week."
The walk to the restaurant is surreal. Hotel guests stop and stare. I feel their eyes on my marks—on the way I'm flanked by three massive Alphas whose scents blend into a wall of claimed.
By the time we reach the entrance, my heart is hammering.
The maître d' takes one look at us and pales. "Alpha Sterling," he stammers. "Your table is ready. Right this way."
We're led to a private corner booth with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the ocean. The sunset paints the sky in shades of pink and gold.
I slide into the booth first. Blake immediately sits to my right, Asher to my left. Cole takes the seat across from us, his eyes never leaving mine.
"Relax, Luna," Asher murmurs. His hand finds mine beneath the table. "You're safe."
But then I feel it—the weight of dozens of eyes. Other diners have noticed us. I hear the whispers:
"Is that—?"
"Three marks—how is that even possible?"
"She's so young—"
"Lucky bitch."
My breathing speeds up. The white musk scent—my scent—starts to spike with anxiety.
And that's when I feel it through the bond: all three of them responding to my distress.
Blake's gunpowder flares, acrid and threatening. He turns his gold-eyed stare toward the nearest table, and the couple there immediately looks away.
Asher's black ebony becomes a wall, so thick and oppressive that several wolves across the room actually whimper and lower their heads in submission.
Cole's mint sharpens into something colder. Dangerous. "Anyone who has a problem," he says clearly, his voice carrying across the room, "can take it up with the three Alphas who marked her. We'll be happy to clarify why she deserves every honor we can give."
Silence falls like a hammer.
Then, slowly, heads start to bow. One by one, every wolf in the restaurant lowers their gaze in a gesture of respect.
To me.
"Holy shit," I whisper.
Blake grins, all teeth. "Welcome to being Luna, Baby."
By the time we finish dinner, I'm exhausted.
Not physically—the food was incredible, and the waitstaff treated me like royalty after that initial stare-down. But emotionally? I feel like I've run a marathon.