Chapter 87
Kara
Sunlight streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting golden stripes across the silk sheets. I wake slowly, awareness returning in stages—first the warmth surrounding me, then the three distinct heartbeats synchronized with mine, and finally the ache.
Holy shit, the ache.
Every muscle protests as I shift slightly. My thighs burn. My core throbs with a persistent soreness that's both uncomfortable and strangely... satisfying? Like proof that last night actually happened. That I survived being taken by three Alphas simultaneously.
That I fucking conquered it.
But it's not just soreness.
My entire body feels hypersensitive, like someone turned all my nerve endings up to maximum volume. The silk sheets brushing against my skin send little sparks of sensation straight to my core. When I move my legs even an inch, the friction makes me bite my lip to suppress a whimper.
What the hell is happening to me?
I test the sensation again—deliberately clenching my thighs together—and holy fuck, that was a mistake. A wave of pleasure-pain rolls through me, sharp enough that my breath catches.
Jesus Christ. I'm basically one giant exposed nerve right now.
I glance around carefully. Blake's arm is draped possessively across my waist, his gunpowder-scent thick in the air. Asher lies behind me, one hand resting protectively on my hip, his black ebony wrapping around me even in sleep. Cole has somehow ended up at the foot of the bed, his mint-scent mixing with theirs in a way that makes my wolf purr contentedly.
They're all still deeply asleep, exhausted from last night's... activities.
Activities. Right. That's what we're calling getting fucked by three Alphas in every possible position.
My face heats just thinking about it. About how I begged. About how I screamed their names loud enough for the whole damn island to hear. About how I—
Nope. Not going there. Not while I'm trapped between their bodies and can barely think straight.
I carefully extract myself from Blake's grip—which is harder than it sounds because even in sleep, his Alpha instincts make him cling like a damn octopus—and slide out of bed. My legs wobble slightly as my feet hit the floor.
Fuck. I feel like a newborn deer.
The walk to the ensuite bathroom feels like a marathon. Each step sends aftershocks through my body, reminding me exactly where they'd been. Where they'd claimed me. My inner thighs are sticky, and I don't even want to think about what's—
Okay, definitely not thinking about that.
In the mirror, I barely recognize myself.
My lips are swollen from kissing. My hair is a tangled mess of golden curls that looks exactly like sex hair because, well, it is. And my eyes...
My eyes look different. Brighter somehow. Like my wolf is sitting much closer to the surface than before, ready to leap out and claim our mates all over again.
I touch the marks gently, and pleasure jolts through me so intensely I have to grip the sink for support.
"Oh my God," I breathe, my knees actually buckling.
Holy shit. Holy shit. That's—that's not normal, right? That can't be normal.
I need distraction. Routine. Something to ground me in normalcy before I climb back into that bed and beg them to—
No. No. I shake my head firmly, water from the sink splashing my overheated face. They need rest. I need... I need to think about literally anything else.
I grab one of Blake's oversized t-shirts from the chair and slip it on, the fabric soft against my oversensitive skin. It falls to mid-thigh, and his scent wraps around me like a cocoon.
My wolf sighs happily, rolling around in the smell of our mate.
My human side tries very hard not to think about how much I'm enjoying wearing his clothes. About how I want to steal all their shirts and make a nest and—
Jesus, Kara. Get a grip.
I pad quietly out of the bedroom, heading for the suite's open kitchen. Maybe I can make myself some—
I stop dead in the doorway.
Right. The fucking rule.
Asher's voice echoes in my memory: "You are forbidden from doing any housework or cooking. That's a direct order, Kara. You're our Luna now, not a servant."
Standing here in the kitchen doorway, I feel... lost. Adrift. Like someone cut the anchor that's been weighing me down for ten years, and now I'm just floating with no idea which direction is up.
For ten years, my first action every morning was preparing breakfast. It was routine. Structure. A way to feel useful even when I was treated like garbage. Even when Blake threw my food on the floor and laughed. Even when Asher criticized every meal I made. Even when Cole watched and did nothing.
Stop it, I tell myself firmly. They're different now. They've changed.
But old habits die hard, and part of me—the scared, traumatized part—still expects the other shoe to drop. Still waits for them to start treating me like shit again.
Through the mate bond, I sense all three Alphas still sleeping deeply. Their emotions are calm, satisfied, content in a way I've never felt from them before.
Because of you, my wolf whispers smugly. Because we made them happy. Because we're theirs and they're ours and everything is perfect.
I bite my lip, considering my options.
I could go back to bed. But my body is too wired, too aware of every sensation. Too hungry in ways that have nothing to do with food.
I could take a bath. But that seems... indulgent? And I'm not sure I can handle being alone with my thoughts—or my traitorous body—right now.
Or...
I could call Blake to make me breakfast.
The thought makes me smile despite myself. Two weeks ago, I would've rather starved than ask him for help. Would've rather gone hungry all day than give him the satisfaction of seeing me need something.
Now? Now the idea of him grumbling his way through cooking for me sounds oddly... sweet. Safe, even.
God, I'm so fucked up.
"Blake?" I test the mate bond tentatively, sending the thought his way. "Could you... come here for a second?"
For a moment, nothing happens.
Then—
"Baby? You okay?" His mental voice is groggy but immediately alert, that protective Alpha instinct kicking in even half-asleep. "Something wrong? You hurt?"
The concern in his voice makes my chest tight. "No, I just... I'm in the kitchen and I can't—" I pause, feeling ridiculous. "I'm hungry but you guys said I can't cook and—"
"Say no more." I feel his amusement through the bond, warm and affectionate. "Be right there. Don't move."
Thirty seconds later, Blake emerges from the bedroom.
Completely. Fucking. Naked.
I freeze, my eyes going wide, my brain short-circuiting like someone just poured water on it.
He's all lean muscle and confident swagger, his black hair messy from sleep, his dimples flashing as he grins at me. And his body is... well. It's very much awake and very happy to see me, if you know what I mean.
Holy shit.
"Blake!" I gasp, heat flooding my cheeks as I desperately try to keep my eyes on his face and fail spectacularly. "You—you should at least wear something!"
He stretches lazily, making all those muscles flex in ways that should be fucking illegal. Arms up, abs contracting, that V-line leading down to—
Stop looking. Stop looking right now.
"What's wrong?" His voice is pure sin—rough and teasing and so goddamn Blake that I can't decide whether to laugh or throw something at him. Or climb him like a tree. "My Luna needs me to do something?"
"You're naked," I point out, trying very hard to keep my eyes above his shoulders. It's not working. At all.