My heart speeds up, anticipation and dread mingling in my chest. She’s going to choose. She has to choose. One of us to help her through this, to touch her, to satisfy the biological need consuming her.
“Tell us what you need,” Miles says, voice gentle but direct. “Who you want to stay.”
Elle’s eyes close briefly, a shudder running through her. When she opens them again, something has shifted in her expression—a decision made, a boundary crossed.
“That’s just it,” she says, meeting each of our gazes in turn. “I don’t—I won’t choose between you.”
The room goes silent, the only sound the rain against the windows and Elle’s slightly labored breathing.
“What do you mean?” I ask carefully, not sure I understand—or perhaps not willing to understand.
“I mean,” she says, voice stronger now, “that I won’t choose one of you over the others. I can’t. I don’t want to.”
The implication of her words hits me like a physical blow. Not choosing means either suffering alone or?—
“All of us?” Caleb asks, voicing what I can’t bring myself to say. “You want all of us to stay?”
Elle’s face flushes darker, but she doesn’t look away. “Yes,” she says simply. “All of you. If—if that’s something you could?—”
She doesn’t finish the sentence, another wave of heat consuming her. She curls forward, a sound of pure need escaping her that makes every Alpha instinct in my body roar to life.
I want to gather her against me, to press my scent into her skin, to claim her as mine and only mine.
But she’s not asking to be mine alone. She’s asking for all of us—Caleb with his easy charm and surprising depths, Miles with his quiet strength and unnerving perception, and me with my need for control and structure. All of us, together.
The silence stretches, tense and electric, until Caleb breaks it.
“I think it could work,” he says, voice thoughtful rather than suggestive. He looks at me, then at Miles, something almost challenging in his gaze. “I’m willing if you are.”
Miles’s expression gives nothing away, but his scent shifts subtly—the clean rain and cedar notes deepening, becoming more complex. “It can,” he says simply. “Medically speaking, multiple compatible Alphas can provide more comprehensive relief than a single Alpha during intense heat episodes.”
They both look at me, waiting. I say nothing, my mind racing through implications, complications, boundaries that would need to be established. The Alpha in me rebels at the thought of sharing Elle with anyone, but the man—the part of me that’swatched her suffer for days, that’s seen her fight against her biology with every ounce of her considerable strength—that part considers a different question: what does Elle need?
Not what do I want. Not what my Alpha instincts demand. What does Elle need?
“Adrian?” Elle’s voice pulls me back, uncertain and vulnerable in a way I’ve never heard from her before. “If you don’t want to, I understand. I know it’s asking a lot?—”
“It’s not that,” I interrupt, needing her to understand. “It’s not that I don’t want to help you. It’s?—”
I stop, frustrated by my inability to articulate the tangle of emotions churning inside me. Want and possessiveness and concern and something deeper that I’ve been fighting for longer than I care to admit.
“It’s that you don’t want to share,” Caleb supplies, surprising me with his insight. “Your Alpha doesn’t want us anywhere near her.”
I glare at him, but there’s no heat in it. He’s right, and we all know it.
“My Alpha instincts are not in charge here,” I say firmly, as much to myself as to them. “Elle’s needs are what matter.”
Elle reaches for my hand again, her touch sending electricity up my arm. “I understand if this crosses a line for you,” she says softly. “I’ll be okay if you need to?—”
“No,” I say, the word emerging more forcefully than intended. “No, I’m not leaving you. Not when you need—” I swallow hard, forcing myself to say it. “Not when you need us. All of us.”
The relief in her eyes makes something in my chest ache. Has she been worried I’d abandon her? The thought is absurd—I couldn’t leave her if I tried, not when every instinct in my body is screaming at me to protect her, to care for her, to give her whatever she needs.
Even if what she needs isn’t me alone.
The realization settles over me with surprising clarity: I’d rather have part of Elle than none of her at all. I’d rather share her care with Caleb and Miles than leave her to them entirely. I’d rather set aside my Alpha territoriality than watch her suffer for my pride.
“Okay,” I say, meeting her eyes directly. “All of us. If that’s what you need, that’s what we’ll do.”
