Chapter 92
Kara
Cole's hand slides under my dress hem, his palm hot against my inner thigh. He pauses, questioning. "May I?"
My breath hitches. My core clenches with need so sharp it's almost painful.
I nod quickly. "Yes. Please."
He reaches between us, pushing my panties aside. His fingers find me already wet—embarrassingly wet. I flush hot with shame and arousal.
"Fuck, Kara," Cole breathes against my lips. "You're so ready for me."
He shifts beneath me, somehow managing to free himself in the confined space. Then he's guiding himself to my entrance, the head of his cock pressing against my opening.
I sink down slowly, and the stretch makes me gasp. I'm still sore from last night, but the pleasure-pain mix is addictive. Cole fills me inch by inch, his hands gripping my hips to control the pace.
"That's it," he murmurs. "Take your time. Take what you need."
When he's fully seated inside me, we both pause, breathing hard. The bond thrums between us, alive and golden.
Cole doesn't move. He just holds me, one hand cupping the back of my head, the other splayed across my lower back.
"You're mine," he whispers against my ear. "I'm yours. We belong to each other. Not because of biology. Because I choose you. Every fucking day, I choose you."
Then he starts moving—slow, gentle rolls of his hips that make my toes curl in my sandals. Not fucking. Making love.
The distinction matters.
I bury my face in his neck, breathing in his scent, letting the rhythm wash over me. In the gentle movement, I feel the bond deepening, solidifying. This isn't just sex. It's confirmation. Proof.
Through the bond, I whisper back: "I... I'm yours."
The words feel like surrender and victory at the same time.
Cole's rhythm falters. His grip on me tightens almost painfully. Then he's moving faster, his breath coming in harsh pants against my neck.
When he climaxes, he holds me so tight I can barely breathe, his whole body shuddering. He repeats in my ear like a prayer: "I love you, Kara. However long it takes for you to believe that, I'll keep saying it. Keep showing it. Until you're completely certain."
The orgasm that rolls through me is gentle but thorough, making my inner walls flutter around him. I rest against him afterward, exhaustion and satisfaction pulling me under like a warm tide.
Cole carefully lifts me off him, both of us wincing at the separation. He settles me in the back seat, my head pillowed on Blake's muscular thigh. Blake immediately starts stroking my hair with surprising gentleness.
Through the bond, I hear Blake's mental voice: "She'll be okay. We'll make her okay."
Asher responds as he restarts the engine: "Yes. But it takes time. The yacht is just the beginning."
I drift into light sleep, their scents mixing with the ocean breeze filtering through the vents.
---
I wake as dusk paints the sky gold and pink and purple—colors so vivid they don't look real.
Blake murmurs above me, his hand still stroking my hair, "Almost there, baby. Open those pretty eyes for me."
I blink slowly, disoriented. My body feels heavy and satisfied, Cole's release sticky between my thighs. I should feel embarrassed, but mostly I just feel... peaceful.
The car stops at what looks like a luxury yacht dock. Lahaina Harbor, if the sign is correct. Dozens of white yachts are moored around us in neat rows, their masts reflecting the sunset like a forest of metal trees.
But one yacht stands out.
It's massive—easily twice the size of the others nearby. Modern and sleek, its hull gleaming pearl-white in the dying light. It looks like something a tech billionaire would own.
Cole opens the door and lifts my still-dazed form into his arms. I automatically wrap my arms around his neck, my face pressing into his shoulder.
Blake jumps out excitedly, his whole body practically vibrating. He points at the stern of the massive yacht. "Look there! Kara, look at the stern!"
I squint, trying to focus past my sleep-fogged brain.
The stern bears an elegant script name in deep blue letters: Kara's Promise. Each letter is inlaid with tiny sapphires that sparkle ice-blue in the sunset, catching the light like stars.
The same blue as my engagement ring.
My breath catches in my throat. My vision blurs with fresh tears.
"This is... you... when did you..." I can't form a complete sentence. My brain short-circuits.
Asher moves behind me, his arms wrapping around both me and Cole, sandwiching me between them. His chin rests on top of my head, his voice low and tender in a way I've never heard before:
"This is our promise—you asked if we'd give up on you. This is the answer. This boat will always remind us, remind you, that our commitment never changes. No matter how much time you need. No matter how many times you push us away. This boat will still be here. And so will we."
Oh God.
The tears spill over, hot and fast. But this time they're different. Not grief. Not fear.
Joy.
Cole shifts me in his arms so I can see his face. His mint scent pulses with emotion. "And it's called 'Kara's Promise'—not just our promise to you, but your promise to yourself. A promise to give yourself a chance to believe in love. To accept happiness instead of always waiting for the other shoe to drop."
Blake appears at my side, his gunpowder scent mixing with the salt air. He kisses my temple, his lips soft and warm. "We can sail the world on it. Leave that damn Estate behind whenever you want. Go anywhere—Alaska, Hawaii, fucking Antarctica if you want to see penguins. It's a mobile home, a sanctuary just for the four of us."
I cry and laugh simultaneously, the sounds mixing into something half-hysterical. "You're... you're so fucking sneaky. This is manipulation. Emotional manipulation."
But I'm smiling through the tears. I can't help it.
All three embrace me tighter—Cole holding me, Asher pressed against my back, Blake plastered to my side. In the sunset at the dock, four figures merge into one shadow.
The sapphire letters on the stern sparkle in the golden light, looking almost alive. Like a promise written in gemstones.
Kara's Promise.
Maybe—just maybe—I can keep that promise.
Maybe I can let myself be happy.
Cole carries me up the gangway, his mint scent wrapping around me like a safety blanket. The moment my feet touch the deck, I'm hit by a wall of them—ebony and tobacco, gunpowder and leather, mint and ozone—so thick I can taste it on my tongue.
They've marked every inch of this boat.
Holy shit. Every corner. Every surface. It's like walking into a cave that screams "MINE" in three different voices.
My wolf preens, practically purring with satisfaction. Wants to rub against every railing, every doorframe, add my white musk and first snow to the mix until we're so tangled together no one could ever separate us.
My human brain? Terrified.
What if this is too much? What if I'm reading into things? What if this is just them being possessive assholes and I'm the idiot falling for it?
"When did you...?" My voice comes out breathless, almost broken.