Chapter Fifty-Five
The beach shimmered in candlelight, the waves whispering just beyond the edge of the sand. Lanterns hung from driftwood posts, casting golden halos over the table set for five. The scent of roses and sea salt mingled with something richer — roasted spices, warm bread, citrus and honey.
Avery stepped forward, her hand still tucked in Lucien’s, her heart catching in her throat.
Every dish laid out was one of her favorites. Not just the obvious ones — the comfort meals she’d mentioned in passing — but the ones she hadn’t realized they’d remembered. The lemon-glazed salmon from her childhood. The wild rice with dried cherries she’d once made for Molly during a storm. Even the chocolate mousse her adoptive father used to surprise her with after hard days.
She turned slowly, eyes wide, and found all four of them watching her.
Lucien’s gaze was steady, reverent. Riven’s smile was soft, almost shy. Kael looked proud, like he’d built the night himself. Molly’s eyes shimmered with quiet joy.
“You did this?” Avery whispered.
Lucien stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “We did it for you.”
Riven’s voice was low. “Because you deserve to be cherished.”
Kael nodded. “Every day. Not just tonight.”
Molly reached for her hand. “Because you’re ours.”
They sat together, laughter spilling between bites, hands brushing, eyes lingering. The food was perfect, but it wasn’t the flavors that made Avery’s chest ache — it was the intention. Every detail had been chosen with her in mind. Every glance from her mates carried the same message: You are everything.
She’d grown up surrounded by love — her adoptive parents had given her warmth and safety, and even her biological parents, distant as they were, had left echoes of devotion in her blood. But the world outside that circle had taught her something else.
That love was conditional. That passion faded. That people left.
She’d seen it in the human realm — in friendships that frayed, in boyfriends who wanted pieces of her but never the whole. She’d learned to guard herself, to expect less, to believe that the kind of love she read about in novels was just fantasy.
But here, now, with four people who had chosen her again and again — who had built this night around her joy — she knew the truth.
It was real.
And it was hers.
After dinner, they didn’t rush. The table was cleared slowly, the wine poured again, the candlelight deepening into something golden and intimate. Avery leaned into Lucien’s side, her fingers laced with Riven’s, Kael’s hand resting on her knee, Molly’s head on her shoulder.
They didn’t speak much. They didn’t need to.
The bond between them pulsed steady and strong, a rhythm that matched the waves and the stars and the beat of her heart.
Later, when the last lantern had burned low and the moon hung heavy over the water, they returned to the suite. The bed was still vast and waiting, the sheets cool and inviting, the air thick with promise.
They undressed each other slowly — not with urgency, but with reverence. Every touch was a vow. Every kiss a reminder.
Avery lay at the center again, her marks glowing faintly in the moonlight, her body surrounded by warmth and devotion. Lucien’s lips brushed her shoulder. Riven’s hand found her waist. Kael’s fingers traced the curve of her thigh. Molly’s breath warmed her neck.
They came together not just in passion, but in presence. In the kind of closeness that rewrote everything Avery had ever believed about love.
And when the night finally gave way to sleep, their limbs tangled, their hearts full, Avery whispered into the quiet:
“I didn’t think this kind of love was real.”
Lucien kissed her temple. “It is.”
Riven murmured, “We’ll keep proving it.”
Kael’s voice was a promise. “Every day.”
Molly’s fingers tightened around hers. “You’re our everything.”
Avery closed her eyes, the bond humming through her skin, and thought:
This is what forever feels like.
The morning light spilled across the suite in soft gold, the sound of the waves a steady heartbeat beyond the terrace doors. Avery lay tangled in the sheets, her head on Lucien’s chest, Riven stretched out on her other side, Kael and Molly curled together at the foot of the bed.
It was warm, safe, and perfect — but her mind wouldn’t stop turning.
She thought about the last few days. About the way they’d come together again and again, without hesitation, without barriers. And about what that could mean.
Her fingers traced idle circles over Lucien’s skin. “Can I ask something… serious?”
Lucien’s hand stilled in her hair. “Always.”
Riven cracked one eye open. “That’s a dangerous tone.”
Avery smiled faintly, but her voice stayed soft. “We’ve… been together a lot. And we haven’t exactly been careful.”
Kael lifted his head, brow furrowing. “Careful?”
Molly’s eyes widened slightly, then softened. “She means protection.”
Lucien’s gaze sharpened, but not in alarm — in focus. “You’re wondering if we want children.”
Avery nodded, her throat tight. “Not just wondering. Thinking we should talk about it. About when. About… what lies ahead.”
There was a beat of silence, then Kael said simply, “I do. Want them, I mean.”
Lucien’s voice was steady. “So do I.”
Molly smiled. “Me too.”
All eyes turned to Riven. He sat up slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I want them. Gods, I do. But…” He exhaled. “We still have so much to do. So many threats out there. I don’t want to bring a child into danger.”
Avery reached for his hand. “I understand. I’ve thought about that too.”
She hesitated, then took a breath. “I had a dream. A few weeks ago. All five of us were there — older, maybe ten years from now. We were in a big house, and there were children everywhere. Some were ours, some were adopted, some were… I don’t even know. But they were ours in every way that mattered. There were babies in arms, toddlers running through the halls, older kids helping in the kitchen. And we were happy. Whole.”
Her voice wavered. “I want that. I want that future. But I was afraid to say it, because… what if you didn’t?”
Lucien’s hand tightened on hers. “Avery. We want what you want.”
Kael leaned forward. “That dream? Sounds perfect.”
Molly’s eyes were bright. “I can see it. I can feel it.”
Riven’s jaw worked, but then he smiled — small, but real. “If that’s the future you saw, then maybe it’s worth fighting for. We’ll just… be smart. Make sure we’re ready.”
The tension eased, replaced by something warmer. Avery laughed softly. “So… no one’s running for the hills?”
Lucien smirked. “Only if you’re chasing me.”
Kael grinned. “I’d pay to see that.”