I wait a few minutes, making sure Ivy is deeply asleep, before tugging on my boxers and following him.
The night air is chilly against my skin as I step onto the balcony, but the cold never bothers me. Plague, on the other hand, has his arms folded tight against his chest like he wishes he'd put on his coat before coming out here to brood. Or maybe he's just that tense.
"Couldn't sleep either?" I mutter.
He doesn't turn around. "This can never happen again."
The words hit me like a slap to the face even though I was expecting them. "What, helping our omega through her heat?"
"You know what I fucking meant," he bites out, finally turning to face me.
His pale eyes are wild, desperate, and I can see the panic lurking beneath his usual mask of control. He's scared. Terrified, actually. And that scares me too, because I've never seen Plague lose his composure like this.
"Do I?" I challenge, taking a step closer. He steps back at the same time, even though I'm sure the heat from my furnace-like body feels good in comparison to the frigid air. "Because from where I'm standing, we just did something pretty fucking amazing for someone who needed us. And you're acting like we committed a crime."
"We crossed a line," he says, his voice tight. "Multiple lines. And it can't happen again."
"Why not?"
Plague stares at me, his mouth opening and closing like he's trying to find words that won't come.
"Because," he finally says, but it's weak, and we both know it.
"That's not an answer."
"Because it complicates things," he snaps. "Because we're packmates, and this—" he gestures between us, "—whateverthis is, it's not sustainable."
"Says who?"
"Says logic. Says common sense. Says every fucking rule of alpha pack dynamics ever written."
I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "When have we ever followed the rules, Hamsa? When have any of us?"
He turns away again, gripping the railing so hard his knuckles go white. "Don't call me that. And this is different."
"How?"
"Because it matters," he whispers, so quietly I almost don't hear him.
And for once, I don't know what to say.
We stand in silence for a long time. Feels like forever, really. In the distance, the city lights twinkle like stars and the only thing I can hear is the soft hum of distant traffic. It's the kind of quiet I'd usually want to fill with the sound of my own voice because I go nuts when I can hear my own thoughts, but I'm coming up dry.
"We should go back inside," Plague says eventually. "She might wake up."
I nod, but neither of us moves. Because going back inside means facing what we've done, what we've started. And I don't think either of us is ready for that yet.
But eventually, we do go back. We slip back into bed on either side of Ivy, careful not to wake her. She stirs slightly, mumbling something in her sleep, and instinctively curls closer to both of us.
I close my eyes and try to sleep, but my mind won't shut off. I keep replaying the night. The way Plague looked when I made him come apart, the way Ivy felt around my cock, the way she looked taking both of us at once. The way all three of us fit together like pieces of a puzzle I didn't even know was incomplete.
Beside me, I can feel Plague's tension, the way he's holding himself rigid even in sleep. Tomorrow, he'll probably try to pretend none of this happened. He'll finish rebuilding his walls, retreat behind his mask of indifference.
But I won't let him. Because whatever this is—this thing between the three of us—it's too important to ignore. Too real to pretend away.
And I'll be damned if I let him run from it.
Chapter
