Chapter 90
Cole
The morning sun streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows of our Maui suite, turning the Pacific into liquid gold. But I can't appreciate the view. My fingers grip my coffee mug too tight as I stand at the marble kitchen counter, my knuckles going white.
Mind Link.
"She's completely ours!" Blake's voice explodes in my head, excited as a kid with a new toy. "The marking's done. She said 'I'm yours' through the bond last night. It's perfect! This is the best fucking outcome!"
I set down my mug, the ceramic clinking against marble louder than intended. My mint-and-ozone scent turns heavy, oppressive—like thunderclouds gathering before a storm.
"What if... it was too fast?" My voice drops low, barely above a whisper even in our minds. "What if she accepted us because of the biological response—the fusion period—not because she actually chose us emotionally?"
Blake whips around, black hair sweeping his shoulders. His gunpowder scent flares with agitation, sharp and acrid. "What the hell are you saying? You told her you wanted her as Luna the night she first shifted, and now you're backing out? Now you think it's too fast?"
"I'm not regretting marking her." I take a deep breath, forcing my scent to stabilize. "I'm worried she hasn't fully processed her trauma. What if we go back to the Estate, and that converted storage room triggers her? The snow outside? Mother's cold stares? What if all those memories come flooding back and she starts resenting us? What if she realizes the marking happened because her body was in heat, not because her heart was ready?"
Asher leans against the counter, blue eyes sharp with calculation, his black ebony scent cold and controlled. "The marking was just the beginning. The real test comes when we return to Midnight Estate. Every corner of that place is soaked in her pain—ten years of it."
Silence spreads through the mind link like frost.
"The mark created biological dependence," I continue, my voice gaining strength, "but that doesn't equal psychological healing. We gave her a physical bond, but her heart... fuck, her heart might not be ready to fully trust us. And we can't force that. We can't command trust into existence."
Blake's impulsiveness deflates like a punctured tire. Asher nods slowly. "He's right. We're dealing with a girl who spent a decade thinking we were monsters. Three days of good behavior doesn't erase that."
"Then what we need to do," Asher says with quiet Alpha authority that brooks no argument, "is confirm her true feelings—not guess from vague emotions through the bond. Whatever her answer, we respect it. If she needs more time, we give it. If she wants to leave temporarily, we let her—but we never give up pursuing her."
I suddenly speak, my voice carrying rare vulnerability that makes both brothers look at me sharply: "No matter what, we stay unified. If she wavers, we can't fracture internally. We can't make her feel like she has to choose between us. That would destroy her—and us."
Blake grins, trying to lighten the suffocating mood. "'All for one, one for all'? Are we the fucking Three Musketeers now?"
We pause, then simultaneously place our right hands on the cold marble surface, stacking them.
Asher rolls his eyes. "This corny ritual makes me want to teleport to another dimension."
Blake immediately breaks the tension. "Seriously though—who does she love most?"
My face flushes hot. "Last night she slept deepest in my arms..."
"Bullshit! She told me in the car she's mine!" Blake counters.
"How old are you two?" Asher's voice cuts sharp as a blade. "You're twenty, not twelve. Stop arguing about who's the 'favorite' like jealous children. Pull yourselves together."
Through the mind link, I feel all our emotions colliding—possessiveness sharp as broken glass, anxiety like acid in our guts, and finally, beneath it all, resolve hard as steel.
We'll give her space. We'll give her time. We'll prove ourselves through actions, not words.
That's when we hear the bathroom door open.
---
## Kara
I stand in the steamy bathroom, staring at the foggy mirror. Thank fucking God I finally got to shower alone—if three Alphas had barged in like they've been doing, my five-minute rinse would've turned into a two-hour sex marathon. My body can't handle that right now. I'm still sore as hell from last night.
I wipe the mirror with a towel and examine the three marks on my neck and shoulder. They're darker than yesterday, the bruising spreading into purple and blue halos around each bite.
I touch them lightly with my fingertips.
Fuck.
The sensation shoots straight down my spine, pooling heat between my thighs. Instantly, three warm emotional currents flood through the mate bond—Asher's fierce protection, Blake's raw possession, Cole's gentle tenderness—like three streams merging into my heart and threatening to drown me.
We have three Alphas, my inner wolf purrs excitedly, practically rolling in satisfaction. The strongest mates in the world! We'll never be alone again. Never abandoned. Never left freezing in the snow.
But my human consciousness whispers back, cold and sharp: What if this isn't real? What if it's just fusion period biology? What if we go back to Midnight Estate and they turn back into the boys who slapped me, left me freezing in the snow, locked me in that fucking storage room?
My stomach clenches. The marks on my neck suddenly feel like brands instead of love bites.
What if I'm just a biology experiment to them? What if the bond is just hormones and they'll resent me once the novelty wears off?
I force myself to breathe deeply—in through my nose, out through my mouth—and slip on the ice-blue sundress I prepared last night. The fabric is soft as water against my hypersensitive skin, making me shiver. The hem floats at mid-thigh, shorter than anything I've ever worn before. I pair it with transparent heeled sandals that make my legs look longer.
Three mates means someone will carry you when you're tired, my wolf reminds me smugly. No need to worry about blisters. No need to worry about anything.
I force a small smile at my reflection—the girl staring back looks like a stranger. Confident. Beautiful. Claimed.
I push open the bathroom door.
---
Cole notices me first. He rises immediately from the kitchen bar stool, his blue eyes widening as they travel down my body. He crosses the room in three strides and presses a gentle kiss to my forehead.
"You're beautiful."
The words are simple, but through the bond I feel the depth of his sincerity. It makes my throat tight.
I look down, heat flooding my cheeks. I'm still not used to compliments that aren't followed by cruel laughter.
Asher, Blake, and Cole have all changed into coordinated light blue linen shirts and white casual pants, like they planned matching uniforms. They look like a magazine spread—too perfect to be real.
Asher steps forward, his voice calm but carrying undeniable authority that makes my spine straighten instinctively: "Bring a swimsuit and an evening dress. We're going out on the water. And change into flat sandals—heels aren't safe on a boat."
My curiosity spikes, sharp and immediate. I look up at him. "Where are we going?"
Blake smiles mysteriously, crossing his arms over his chest. He taps my nose with his finger. "Surprise. You'll love it."
Surprise. The word makes my stomach flip.