Not just because my body needs it. Not just because I know they’re Wraith’s pack. Not just because they’re my scent matches.
But because watching them together made me realize I want to be part of whatever this is. Doesn’t have to be any more complicated than that right now.
And honestly?
It would be fuckingfun.
"As long as there are no strings attached," I find myself saying, meeting their eyes as they stare at me like their lives hang on my every word, "I'll let you get me through my heat."
Chapter
Forty-Four
WHISKEY
The words hit me like a slap shot to the gut.
I'll let you get me through my heat.
My brain short-circuits for a hot second, trying to process what Ivy just said. She's sitting there in her nest, cheeks flushed and pupils blown wide, honeysuckle scent so thick in the air I can practically taste it. And she's offering herself to us.
Tous.
Both of us.
"You sure about that, sweetheart?" I ask, my voice coming out rougher than I intended. My cock is already stirring again despite having just come down Plague's throat. Alpha biology is a hell of a thing.
She nods, but there's something vulnerable in her eyes that makes my chest tight.
Plague shifts beside me, still trying to catch his breath. His hair's a mess, lips swollen from my cock, and there's something almostfragile about him right now that I've never seen before. Like all that ice prince armor got stripped away.
"We won't hurt you," I say, and I mean it with every fiber of my being. "I promise."
"I know." Her voice is soft but sure. "That's why I'm asking."
The trust in her words hits me hard. This omega who's been hurt, who's been running and hiding, is choosing to be vulnerable with us. Withme.
Plague clears his throat, already trying to rebuild those walls. "Perhaps we should establish some parameters," he says, slipping back into that clinical tone. "Boundaries. Expectations."
"Geez, Plague," I mutter. "You gonna make a fucking spreadsheet?"
"I'm trying to ensure everyone's comfort and safety," he snaps back, but there's less bite to it than usual.
Ivy laughs a little. "No spreadsheets. Just... be gentle. And patient. It's been a while since I've been with anyone I actually wanted to be with. Well… before Wraith." Her already flushed cheeks flush deeper.
Wade Kelly. That piece of shit alpha who hurt her, who made her run. I'm gonna kill that motherfucker when I see him next. My hands clench into fists before I force them to relax.
"We'll take care of you," I promise, following her back to the nest. "Whatever you need."
Her skin is burning hot even from here, fever-bright from her approaching heat. "I need to feel safe. To know I have a choice."
"You always have a choice," Plague says quietly, and when I look at him, his sharp blue eyes are soft in a way I've never seen. "Always."
Ivy shifts in her nest, and the movement sends another wave of honeysuckle through the air. My cock twitches, already half-hard again despite having just come. The sight of her surrounded by all those soft blankets, wearing my feral packmate's oversized shirt, pupils blown wide with need—it's enough to make any alpha lose his mind.
But she's not just any omega. She'sours. Our scent match. And she's been hurt by an alpha before.
That thought sobers me faster than a bucket of ice water.
