Silas moves first.
He closes the distance in three sure strides until he's in my space. One hand lands on the back of the chair beside mine,the other hovers near my hip like he wants to grab me and is barely holding himself back. He dips his head, nose brushing my temple, the line of my jaw, the hollow just beneath my ear.
He's smelling me.
The growl that rumbles out of his chest vibrates through the inch between our bodies. “Fuck,” he says, voice wrecked. “Naomi.”
Felix is there a heartbeat later, on my other side. He leans in, nose skating up the side of my throat, and inhales deeply.
“Oh my god, I’m sorry,” he blurts, but he doesn’t pull away, only presses his forehead lightly to my shoulder. His voice is rough, frayed. “You smell—I can’t even—”
Liam hangs back the longest, but his control eventually shatters. His breath is uneven, pupils huge, hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. When he finally steps in, he lifts one hand, cups the back of my head, and tips my face toward him. He runs his nose along my cheekbone, then lower, to the corner of my mouth, inhaling.
A quiet, broken sound escapes him. “This shouldn’t be possible,” he whispers.
Ishouldshove them back. I should demand space and ask what the hell is happening.
Instead, I turn into Silas and press my face against the side of his throat and inhale like a feral omega.
Leather and amber, again. Dark and grounding and so intenselyalphamy entire nervous system short-circuits. My fingers clutch at his t-shirt, pulling him closer without conscious thought.
Then, a noise I have never heard from my own mouth slips out, high, cracked, needy.
An omega whine.
Felix makes a low, possessive rumble and nuzzles harder against my neck. Liam's grip in my hair tightens, then gentles,his thumb stroking slow over the nape of my neck. Silas's arm closes fully around my waist, and a deep, resonant purr vibrates from his chest into mine.
“Fuck,” Felix breathes, groaning, his face pressed against my pulse. “Is everything okay, angel? Talk to us.”
"I—" My voice cracks, and my instincts take over again. I turn blindly, seeking, and find Felix's throat. I press my nose to the warm skin there and breathe him in.
Honey and vanilla. Heat, sugar and sunshine.
I shiver, a full-body tremor. “Felix…”
He shudders. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s—god.”
But then instinct pulls me again and I turn toward Liam. My hand shoots out, fisting in his shirt before I can think. He steps in immediately until my shoulder presses against his chest, and I tilt my head, nuzzling into the curve of his neck.
Black tea and old books. Clean, steady,homey.
We’re pressed together in a messy, three-sided knot, breathing each other in like we’ve never inhaled air before. Silas’s hand strokes up and down my spine once, twice, stopping at the small of my back. Felix’s fingers circle my hips. Liam’s thumb rubs slow circles over the racing pulse at my wrist.
They murmur against my skin, and the words thread together.
“Peaches,” Felix says, voice rough with awe.
“Jasmine,” Liam adds, dazed.
Silas swears under his breath. “Jesus Christ, Naomi.”
“This—this can’t be right,” I manage even as the three of them flood my senses. "This is—we can't be—"
“Scent matches,” Liam finishes. “Four-way.”
The words drop like a bomb.
"What the fuck," Silas mutters.
