Chapter 70
Asher
Thirty minutes later, we're loading into the Arctic White Tesla Model X—the SUV we gifted Kara for her birthday. She still doesn't have her license (we've arranged driving lessons for January), so Blake takes the wheel.
I claim passenger seat. Cole and Kara sit in back.
The drive to Anchorage takes forty minutes in good weather. Today's weather is shit—horizontal snow, minus-thirty windchill—but the Tesla handles it smoothly.
Kara sits rigid in her seat, hands folded in her lap.
Nervous.
"What are you thinking?" Cole asks gently.
"That I don't know how to dress for warm weather," she admits. "I've lived in Alaska my whole life. I don't even own shorts."
Blake catches her eye in the rearview mirror. "Then we'll get you everything. Don't worry about the cost."
"But—"
"Don't," I say firmly. "No debt conversations. No calculating what you 'owe' us. This is a gift. Accept it."
Silence.
Then, quietly: "Okay."
My wolf settles slightly.
She's learning.
Learning to accept what she deserves.
---
Glacial Elegance is lit up despite the closed sign. The owner—Miranda Chen, a Beta who's dressed half of Anchorage's elite—meets us at the door.
"Alpha Sterling." She bows her head respectfully. Then her eyes find Kara, specifically the Luna collar now resting against Kara's throat (she'd let me fasten it before we left—shaking but willing).
"Luna Sterling." Miranda's entire demeanor shifts to reverence. "What an honor. Please, come in."
Kara's eyes widen at the title.
I suppress a smile.
She'll need to get used to it.
---
The store is empty except for us. Miranda has cleared the entire space, set out champagne and chocolate, arranged the dressing rooms with plush seating.
"I've pulled several collections based on your text," she tells me. "Resort wear, evening wear, casual daywear. All in Luna Sterling's size."
Which I'd estimated based on the clothes Sophia and Emma bought her.
Kara looks overwhelmed.
"Start with swimwear," Blake suggests, grin wicked. "I want to see what she looks like in a bikini."
Kara's face flushes scarlet.
Cole elbows Blake hard. "Don't be crude."
"I'm not being crude. I'm being honest." Blake's gunpowder scent spikes with arousal. "She's our mate. I want to see her in a fucking bikini. Sue me."
"Language," I murmur.
"Bite me."
Kara laughs—a startled, genuine sound—and the tension breaks.
"Fine," she says, surprising us all. "Swimwear first."
---
## Kara
The dressing room is larger than my old storage closet.
Plush carpet. Gold-framed mirror. A velvet bench.
And racks upon racks of clothing in colors I've never worn: coral pink, sunshine yellow, ocean blue.
Miranda hands me the first swimsuit with a knowing smile.
"This is our bestseller," she says. "Classic and flattering."
It's a white high-waisted bikini. Simple. Elegant.
I stare at it for a long moment.
Then strip down and put it on.
---
The mirror shows a stranger.
The bikini fits perfectly—emphasizing curves I didn't know I had. My deep gold curls fall over my shoulders, slightly damp from the snow outside. The Luna collar glints at my throat.
I look...
Beautiful.
Feminine. Desirable.
Nothing like the storage-room ghost I've been for ten years.
"You coming out?" Blake calls from outside.
My stomach flips.
They're going to see me like this.
Half-naked. Exposed. Vulnerable.
"Yeah," I call back, voice shaking. "Just a second."
I force my feet to move.
Open the door.
Step out.
---
## Blake
Fuck.
I stop breathing.
Kara stands in the doorway wearing a white bikini that makes her look like some kind of snow goddess. Her skin glows against the fabric. Her curves are perfect—lush and soft and mine mine mine—
My wolf surges forward, eyes flashing gold.
"Blake," Asher warns.
I don't give a shit about warnings.
I'm across the room before I can think, hands gripping her waist, lifting her slightly off the ground.
"You look fucking edible," I growl against her throat. "Like dessert. Like sin. Like—"
"Blake!" Kara gasps, hands pushing at my chest. "Put me down!"
I don't want to.
I want to carry her back to the SUV, take her home, mark every inch of that perfect skin until everyone knows she's ours—
"Blake." Asher's Alpha command hits like a physical force. "Let her go."
I set her down with a snarl.
"Sorry," I mutter, not sorry at all. "But Kara. Baby. That bikini is—"
"Too revealing?" she whispers, arms crossing over her chest. "I knew it. I look ridiculous—"
"You look like a fucking queen," I correct harshly. "And if we take you to Hawaii in that, every male wolf on the island is going to lose his damn mind."
Her eyes widen.
Good.
Let her understand her power.
---
## Kara
Cole approaches slowly, carefully. His mint-and-ozone scent wraps around me like a cool breeze.
"You're beautiful," he says simply. "Absolutely stunning."
Asher adds quietly: "But Blake's right about one thing. That bikini will draw attention."
"Is that bad?" I look between them, confused.
"Not bad." Asher's jaw tightens. "Just... challenging. For us. We'll need to be very clear with any males we encounter that you're claimed."
Translation: they'll be possessive and territorial.
My wolf purrs. Good. Want them possessive. Want them to fight for us.
My human side feels... conflicted.
I've spent years being invisible. Being nothing.
Now they're saying I'm so visible that I'll cause problems?
"Maybe I should get something more modest," I start.
"No." Asher's command is absolute. "You wear what makes you comfortable. If that's this bikini, we'll deal with our control issues."
Blake growls agreement. "What he said. You want this one, Baby? Get it. We'll handle the consequences."
Cole grins. "Though maybe get a few cover-ups too? For our sanity?"
I laugh despite myself.
"Fine. Cover-ups. But—" I lift my chin, surprising myself with sudden boldness. "I'm keeping this bikini. Because I look good in it."
Three sharp inhales.
Three pairs of blue eyes go molten.
"Fuck yes you do," Blake breathes.
---
The next hour is a blur of trying on clothes.
I model sundresses (Cole's favorite: a yellow floral that makes him call me "sunshine"). Evening gowns (Asher's favorite: an ice-blue silk that matches the sapphires in my collar). Casual shorts and tanks (Blake's favorite: ALL OF IT, judging by his increasingly aggressive scent).
By the time Miranda rings up the purchases—over fifteen thousand dollars' worth of clothing—I'm exhausted.
But also...
Giddy.
I've never owned this many clothes in my life.
Never had choices.
Never felt this feminine.
"Thank you," I tell the triplets as we load bags into the Tesla. "Seriously. This is—"
"Just the beginning," Asher interrupts. "Wait until you see the resort."