Chapter 213
Blake
I open my mouth to reassure her, but before I can speak, Kara continues, her voice going small and uncertain in a way that makes my wolf whine.
"Is it because I'm... not attractive anymore? Now that I'm pregnant?"
The question hits me like a physical blow. Through the bond, I feel Asher's sharp denial and Cole's hurt that she could even think that.
Before I can respond, Asher's voice cuts through the room with that Alpha authority that makes even me want to snap to attention.
"Nothing can happen until you see the doctor." His tone is firm, leaving no room for argument. "This has nothing to do with your attractiveness and everything to do with making sure you and our baby are safe."
But the mention of "doctor" makes Kara go rigid against me, and through the bond I feel her anxiety spike so sharply it makes my chest tight.
"I feel fine," she says quickly, already trying to sit up. "I don't need to see a doctor. Really, I'm—"
She's scared, I send to my brothers, feeling her fear like it's my own heartbeat.
Then we make sure she knows we'll be there, Cole responds immediately.
I watch Kara slide toward the edge of the bed, clearly planning to bolt, and something in me snaps. Not anger—never anger at her—but a bone-deep refusal to let her run from something this important.
In one smooth movement, I've got her over my shoulder, her startled yelp echoing in the quiet bedroom.
"Blake! Put me down! I can walk by myself!"
"You just said you didn't want to go to the doctor," I point out, heading toward the bathroom with long strides. "I don't trust you not to disappear."
"I wasn't going to—Blake, this isn't funny!"
I set her down on the wide marble vanity, her legs dangling off the edge, and the position puts us at eye level. For a moment I just look at her—sleep-mussed curls, flushed cheeks, that blue silk nightgown that's somehow both modest and the sexiest thing I've ever seen.
My wolf wants to mark her right here, right now. Wants to prove to her exactly how attractive we find her, how much we want her, how the only thing keeping us from taking her is the need to make sure she's healthy first.
Instead, I step back and slowly—deliberately—pull my t-shirt over my head. I watch her eyes widen as I reveal my chest, then my abs, and I don't miss the way her breath catches when I hook my thumbs in my sleep pants.
I push them down, letting her see exactly what she does to me. My cock's already hard, has been hard since I woke up with her pressed against me, and I let her look her fill.
Her face goes scarlet. "What are you—what are you doing?"
"Showing you," I say, my voice dropping to that rough register that makes her shiver, "exactly how hard it was to say no to you last night." I step closer, caging her in without touching her, letting her see the evidence of my desire. "But we're going to wait, baby. We're going to wait until the doctor confirms that you and our baby are safe."
I lean in, getting close enough that she can feel my breath on her lips. "And then I promise I'll make it up to you."
Through the bond, I feel Asher's approval and Cole's heated agreement, both of them feeding off my desire and Kara's reaction.
The bathroom door opens and Asher walks in, then stops short when he sees my clothes in a pile on the floor and Cole's shirt crumpled next to the shower.
He lets out a long-suffering sigh that I feel more than hear through the bond, then bends down and starts picking up each piece of clothing. I watch, simultaneously amused and exasperated, as he folds each item with precise corners before placing them neatly in the laundry basket.
"You two are going to be the death of me," he mutters, but there's fondness underneath the exasperation.
We were in a hurry, I defend.
You're always in a hurry, Asher sends back. That's not an excuse for leaving clothes everywhere like children.
The three of us work together to bathe Kara, and the sexual tension is so thick I could cut it with a knife. I take point on washing her body, my hands moving quickly and efficiently over her skin while deliberately avoiding her breasts and the apex of her thighs. It's torture—pure, exquisite torture—having my hands on her like this without being able to really touch her the way I want to.
My gunpowder-and-leather scent rises to mix with her magnolia, marking her as mine even in this small way.
Asher takes over her hair, and I watch his expression soften as he massages shampoo into her scalp with gentle circular motions. He works the product through each curl with meticulous care, then applies conditioner, making sure every strand is properly treated.
Cole handles the rinse, using the handheld showerhead to carefully wash away the suds without getting a single drop in her eyes. His movements are tender, reverent, like she's something precious that might shatter if he's too rough.
When we're done, I wrap her in the biggest towel we have, bundling her up until only her face is visible. Our scents are all over her now—gunpowder and leather and mint and ebony—mixing with her magnolia and snow until she smells like she belongs to us.
Through the bond, I feel my brothers' possessive satisfaction, their pleasure at having marked her this way even without sex.
Back in the bedroom, Asher moves toward the closet with clear purpose. "It's my turn to choose your clothes today."
The hell it is, I send through the link, genuine irritation spiking. We agreed it was my turn. You can't just—
But Asher's already pulling out a soft ice-blue cashmere dress, completely ignoring my protest. "This color will be gentle for today's appointment. Non-threatening."
I watch Kara's face as she takes in the dress, then the matching leggings and cardigan Asher's already laying out with the same precision he applies to everything. She's still wrapped in her towel, sitting on the edge of the bed, looking small and uncertain.
When Asher finishes arranging the outfit, he turns to her with an expression I rarely see on his face—vulnerable, almost shy in a way that makes my chest ache.
"Let me help you with your hair."
"I can do it myself," Kara says immediately, and through the bond I feel Asher's disappointment hit like a physical blow.
She won't let me help, he sends to Cole and me, and there's actual hurt in his mental voice.
You stole Blake's turn, Cole points out, not even trying to hide his amusement. What did you expect?
But Asher's not giving up. He picks up her hairbrush from the vanity, holding it out like a peace offering. "At least let me hand you the brush?"
The puppy-dog look on his face is so out of character, so unexpectedly vulnerable, that even Kara can't help but smile. She accepts the brush from him, and I watch my oldest brother practically glow with satisfaction at this small victory.
You're pathetic, I inform him through the bond, but there's no real heat in it.
Says the man who just stripped naked to prove a point, Asher fires back.
That was strategic, I defend.
That was you showing off, Cole corrects, his mental voice warm with affection.