Corvus on his back, head thrown back against the pillows, one hand fisted in Oakley's hair. Oakley on his knees between Corvus's legs, shoulders flexing as he worked him with his mouth. And Dorian behind Oakley, one hand gripping Oakley's hip, the other braced on the bed as he moved in that deliberate, devastating rhythm I remembered from heat.
The morning light streaming through the windows painted them in gold—three Alphas who could have had anyone, who'd chosen each other long before they'd chosen me, now tangled together in a configuration I'd only imagined.
My breath caught. One of them must have heard it because Dorian looked up, met my eyes through the crack in the door.
He didn't stop. Held my gaze while continuing to fuck Oakley with that devastating precision, and something in his ice-blue eyes saidstay.
I should leave. Should—
"Vespera." Dorian's voice, rough and commanding even breathless with pleasure. "Either come in or go back to bed. Don't just stand there."
Fuck it.
I pushed the door open and stepped inside. "Room for one more?"
All three of them looked at me then. Corvus's dark eyes were blown wide, pupils swallowing the color. Oakley pulled off Corvus with an obscene sound, lips wet, and the whimper he made when Dorian changed his angle went straight to my core. And Dorian—Dorian's ice-blue eyes tracked over my sleep shirt, my bare legs, my face.
"That depends," he said, not breaking rhythm. "Can you handle what you see?"
"I'm here, aren't I?"
"Watching or participating?" Corvus managed, voice strained.
"I," My breath caught as Dorian thrust particularly hard and Oakley moaned against Corvus's hip. "I don't know. I've never..."
"Never watched?" Corvus asked, hand gentle in Oakley's hair even as his hips shifted. "Or never joined?"
"Both."
"Then watch first." Dorian's eyes never left mine. "See what you want. Then decide."
I moved to the armchair near the bed on shaking legs. My skin felt too tight, too hot. Every nerve ending alive and screaming.
The angle gave me a perfect view of everything.
Oakley on his knees, back arched in that perfect curve that made him look like art. His shoulders flexing as he worked Corvus with his mouth, taking him deep enough to make Corvuscurse. Dorian behind him, one hand gripping Oakley's hip hard enough to bruise, the other braced on his shoulder for leverage. The way they moved together—fluid, practiced, devastating.
And thesounds. God, the sounds.
Oakley's muffled moans around Corvus. Corvus's harsh breathing, the barely-contained curses when Oakley did something particularly good. Dorian's low, commanding voice praising Oakley—"that's it, take it"—mixed with the obscene slap of skin on skin.
My thighs clenched. My hands gripped the armrests hard enough to hurt.
I'd thought I understood pack dynamics. Thought I'd accepted that they took care of each other. Butseeingit—watching them like this, raw and unguarded and so fucking beautiful together—
This wasn't about biology. This wasn't the bond forcing want into my body.
This wasme. My desire. My choice to sit here and watch and feel myself get wet.
The realization hit like a freight train: I wanted them. Not because fate decided we were compatible. Not because Omega instincts demanded it. But because watching Dorian's control start to fracture made something in my chest tighten. Because Oakley's desperate sounds of pleasure made me ache. Because Corvus fighting to keep his eyes open, to watch me watch them, felt like an invitation I was dying to accept.
I wantedthem. All of them. In every configuration. Any way they'd let me have them.
"Fuck," I whispered, pressing my thighs together for friction that wasn't enough.
Dorian's rhythm stuttered. "What was that?"
"I said fuck." Louder this time. "You're all—fuck."
