They move slowly, taking their time undressing me, pausing between each piece of clothing to kiss newly exposed skin. Wyatt's hands are confident and sure, knowing exactly where to touch to make me gasp. Silas is more careful, watching my reactions closely, adjusting based on what makes me arch into his touch versus what makes me tense.
By the time I'm down to just my underwear, I'm trembling with anticipation and nerves, my breathing coming fast and shallow. The cool air of the room raises goosebumps on my overheated skin.
"You're beautiful," Silas says, his hands tracing patterns on my bare shoulder, following the curve down to my collarbone. "So damn beautiful, Amelia. Do you know that?"
I shake my head, unable to find words. Vincent spent two years telling me I was lucky he looked at me at all, that I should be grateful for his attention because no one else would want me. The scars from those words run deep, making it hard to believe these men when they tell me I'm beautiful, when they look at me like I'm something to be treasured.
"We'll keep telling you until you believe it," Wyatt promises, reading my doubt. His lips find my collarbone, kissing along the ridge of bone with gentle reverence. "Every single day if we have to. Every single hour."
They take turns touching me, kissing me, learning what makes me gasp and what makes me arch into their touch. Wyatt's mouth traces down my neck while Silas's hands map the curve of my waist. When they finally lay me back on the bed, I'm already dizzy with sensation, my body singing with need.
"Is this okay?" Silas asks, hovering over me, his dark eyes searching my face. "Are you okay? We can stop anytime."
"Don't stop," I whisper, my hands coming up to frame his face, feeling the scratch of stubble against my palms. "Please don't stop. I want this. I want you."
He kisses me deeply, thoroughly, stealing my breath and my thoughts until there's nothing but the feeling of his mouth on mine, his body covering mine. When he finally enters me, slow and careful, giving me time to adjust, I can't help the small sound that escapes me.
"You're perfect," he murmurs against my lips, his hips rolling in slow, deliberate movements. "So perfect, Amelia. Made for this. Made for us."
The praise washes over me, making heat coil tighter in my stomach. Wyatt is beside us, his hands never leaving my body, touching and kissing and whispering encouragement that makes my chest tight with emotion I can't quite name.
When Silas's knot starts to form, stretching me in a way that's just on the edge of too much, I feel a moment of panic. Vincent never knotted me, always pulling out before that could happen, saying he didn't want to be stuck with me, that I wasn't worth that kind of commitment. But Silas keeps moving, keeps murmuring reassurance against my skin, and the panic fades into something else entirely.
His knot locks us together, the feeling of fullness absolute and overwhelming, and I can't help the small cry that escapes me. But it's not pain. It's something more complicated, something that feels like completion and safety and being exactly where I'm supposed to be.
"That's it, sweetheart," Silas breathes, his forehead pressed to mine as his hips continue to move in small, tight circles. "You're doing so good. Taking my knot so perfectly. This is what you were made for. This connection."
The praise combined with the overwhelming fullness pushes me over the edge. I come apart in his arms, crying out his name while pleasure crashes through me in waves. He follows moments later, his body going rigid as he finds his own release, his knot pulsing inside me in a way that makes aftershocks ripple through my body.
We stay locked together for long minutes, both of us breathing hard, while Wyatt traces soothing patterns on my skin and whispers how beautiful we look together, how perfect, how right this is.
Eventually Silas's knot recedes enough that he can pull out carefully, both of us wincing at the loss of connection and the sensitivity. But before I can catch my breath properly, Wyatt is there, helping me shift, positioning himself between my thighs. His blue eyes are dark with want, pupils blown wide.
"My turn, sunshine. If you're up for it. If you want more."
I nod, already reaching for him, wanting to feel this with him too. Wanting to be connected to both of them in this fundamental way. "Yes. Please."
Wyatt is less gentle than Silas, more demanding, taking what he wants while still being careful not to hurt me. His pace is faster, more intense, driving me toward another peak before I've fully recovered from the first. The slide of his body against mine, inside mine, is overwhelming in the best way.
When his knot forms and locks us together, I'm already coming again, sobbing his name into his shoulder while he holds me through it, his arms wrapped around me like he's never letting go.
We're all tangled together on the bed afterward, me sandwiched between them, both of them trailing gentle touches over my overheated skin. I'm boneless and sated and more relaxed than I've been in days. Wyatt is behind me, his chest pressed to my back, one arm draped over my waist. Silas is facing me, his fingers tracing idle patterns on my shoulder.
That's when I notice it. The way my scent has changed, intensified. Not the full bloom of heat, not yet, but something closer to it. Richer. Sweeter. My skin feels even warmer than before, a restless energy building beneath the surface despite the exhaustion pulling at me.
My body is preparing. Signaling. The heat is coming soon. Very soon.
Both Alphas notice it too. I can tell by the way they both go very still, the way they breathe in deeply, scenting the air.
"Amelia," Silas says carefully, his hand stilling on my shoulder. "Your scent..."
Panic slams into me despite the earlier reassurances, sharp and immediate. "Is it...?"
"Your heat is coming," Wyatt confirms, his hand splaying across my stomach, warm and grounding. "Soon. Maybe a day or two. Your body is getting ready."
The fear must show on my face because they both immediately move closer, surrounding me with their warmth and scents, creating a cocoon of safety.
"Breathe," Silas orders gently, his thumb stroking my cheek. "Just breathe, sweetheart. This is okay. This is natural."
