Chapter 61
Kara
I'm dripping. Actually dripping. I can feel it—slickness coating my inner thighs, the evidence of how badly I want this.
"So fucking wet," he growls. "Even in dreams, you want us."
"I—" My voice breaks. "Please—"
"Please what?" His tongue darts out. Licks a slow stripe up my inner thigh, tasting me. "Fuck. You taste like heaven."
Cole's hand threads through my hair, tugging gently until I meet his gaze. "Let us worship you, Goddess. The way you deserve."
His mouth claims mine.
The kiss is devastating. Deep and thorough, his tongue sweeping in to taste, to claim. I melt into it, into him, forgetting—
Everything.
Blake's hand slides lower. Over my stomach. Between my thighs.
"Blake!"
His fingers part my folds. Find my clit. Circle slowly.
I shatter.
My legs buckle, but Asher catches me. Holds me upright as Blake continues his torment—slow, maddening circles that build a fire in my core.
"That's it, Baby." Blake's other hand wraps around my throat, holding me against him. Not squeezing. Just holding. "Let go. Give in."
"I—I can't—"
"You can." Asher's mouth replaces Blake's hand between my thighs.
His tongue—
Oh God—
His tongue flicks my clit.
Once. Twice.
Then sucks.
I scream.
The aurora above us explodes—green and purple lightning arcing across the sky, reflecting the chaos inside me.
Blake's finger slides inside me. Then two. Pumping slowly, curling to hit that spot that makes my vision white out.
Cole swallows my cries, kissing me harder, deeper, stealing my breath and my sanity—
"Come for us," Asher commands against my core. His Alpha voice. Impossible to resist. "Now."
And I do.
I come so hard my body goes rigid. Every muscle locks. My pussy clamps down on Blake's fingers, clenching rhythmically, wave after wave of pleasure crashing through me—
"Fuck fuck FUCK—"
---
I wake with a gasp.
My eyes fly open, lungs heaving, body burning.
The room is dark. The only light comes from the dying embers in Asher's fireplace—casting faint orange shadows on the walls.
For a moment, I don't know where I am.
Then I feel them.
Blake behind me, his arm still under my head. But his fist is clenched in the sheets, knuckles white, body rigid.
Cole beside me, hand on my waist—but higher than before. Gripping my ribs, holding himself back.
Asher at the edge, facing the wall. His shoulders bunched, every muscle locked.
They didn't touch me.
Even though—
Even though I was moaning.
Heat floods my face.
Oh God. Did I—did they hear—?
Between my legs, I'm soaked. Drenched. My panties are ruined, and I can feel the wetness spreading to my thighs.
They can smell it. Oh fuck, they can smell exactly how turned on I am.
The air in the room is thick.
Their scents are overwhelming—gunpowder and leather sharp with strain. Ebony smoke heavy and dark. Mint chaotic, pulsing.
They're suffering.
Because of me.
"Kara."
Blake's voice is hoarse. Wrecked. "Go back to sleep."
"I—"
"Please." Cole's hand flexes on my ribs. "Before we—"
He doesn't finish.
He doesn't have to.
I can feel the tension radiating off all three of them. The hunger. The razor's edge they're balancing on.
One wrong move and—
Asher shifts. His breathing is ragged. "You were dreaming."
It's not a question.
My throat closes.
"I'm sorry," I whisper.
"Don't." Blake's voice cracks. "Don't apologize for something you can't control."
"But—"
"Sleep, Kara." Asher's tone is final. "We'll talk in the morning."
I close my eyes.
Try to steady my breathing.
But between my thighs, I'm throbbing.
And judging by the way Blake's body tenses behind me—
He knows.
My core clenches involuntarily. Another rush of wetness.
Fuck.
---
Three days have passed since that dream. Since I woke up soaked and throbbing between Blake's sheets, their combined scents wrapping around me like a living thing while they suffered in silence.
Three days of carefully maintained distance.
I eat with them—but keep my eyes on my plate, fork moving mechanically while my wolf screams at me to look up, to meet their gazes. Study in my room—door cracked just enough that they know I'm there, but not enough to invite them in.
My textbooks remain unopened for hours while I strain to hear their footsteps in the hallway. Accept their hugs and forehead kisses when they greet me, but pull away before it becomes more—even though every cell in my body wants to melt into their touch and never let go.
My wolf hates it.
She wants to roll in their scents. Wants their hands on our skin, their mouths on our—
Stop. Jesus Christ, stop.
But my body betrays me constantly. I'll catch Blake's gunpowder-leather scent in the hallway and my core will clench so hard I have to grip the wall. Asher will brush past me in the kitchen—just his sleeve touching my arm—and my nipples will tighten beneath my shirt until they ache. Cole will smile at me across the dinner table and I'll get wet, right there with a forkful of food halfway to my mouth.
They know. Of course they fucking know.
They're giving me space, letting me set the pace.
But the tension is killing all of us. I'm wound so tight I might snap.
Tonight, after dinner, Cole breaks the stalemate.
---
The main living room is warm—massive stone fireplace roaring, casting dancing shadows on the walls that make me think of things I shouldn't. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, Alaska's eternal night stretches out, stars brilliant against the black sky like scattered diamonds.
Blake sprawls on the leather couch, flipping through pack documents with a frown. Every few seconds his gaze flicks to me. I can feel it like a physical touch.
Asher stands by the window, hands in his pockets, staring at nothing. But his reflection in the glass shows his eyes on me too. Always on me.
Cole fiddles with his phone, connecting it to the sound system. His movements are too casual, too studied.
I'm curled in an armchair with a book I'm not reading—haven't turned a page in twenty minutes—hyperaware of every breath they take, every shift of muscle beneath skin. My thighs are pressed together so hard they're starting to cramp, trying to ease the ache between them.
Get it together. You're pathetic.
Then soft jazz fills the room. Pure instrumental—saxophone and piano weaving together in something slow and aching that makes my chest hurt.
Cole crosses to me. Extends his hand.
"Kara." His mint-ozone scent washes over me, fresh and cold like winter morning air. "Dance with me? Just here. Just a few steps."
My fingers tighten on the book hard enough that the pages crumple. This is dangerous. This is so fucking dangerous.
"I—" My voice comes out hoarse. I clear my throat. "I don't know how to dance."
"Neither do I, really." His smile is gentle. "We'll figure it out together."
Damn him. Damn that smile that makes my heart skip.
But his blue eyes are so hopeful. So gentle. Like I'm something precious instead of the debt-slave girl he tormented for a decade.
Blake and Asher turn to watch. No pressure in their gazes—just quiet encouragement. Blake nods slightly. Asher's expression softens.
My wolf whines. Please. We need this. We need them.
Shut up, I tell her, but my resolve is crumbling.
Slowly, I set the book aside. My hands are shaking. I have to wipe my palms on my jeans before I place one trembling hand in Cole's.
His smile could light the whole damn house.
He pulls me to the center of the room—an open space between the furniture. One hand settles on my waist (I shiver at the touch, hard), the other clasps mine. His palm is warm, calloused. Strong enough to crush but holding me like I might break.
We begin to sway, barely moving, just breathing together as the music flows around us.
I'm stiff as a board at first. My free hand hovers awkwardly before settling on his shoulder. I can feel his muscles shift beneath the thin cotton of his shirt. Fuck.
"Relax," he murmurs. "I've got you."