“Here,” Matteo said, appearing at my other side with a bottle of shampoo. “Let us take care of you.”
The offer should have made me bristle with indignation, should have triggered every defensive instinct I possessed. Instead, the gentle tone and the way Stefano’s arms tightened protectively around me made something deep in my chest uncurl with relief.
When’s the last time anyone offered to take care of me? When’s the last time I felt safe enough to let them?
“I can do it myself,” I said, but the words came out soft and uncertain rather than defiant. “I don’t need…”
“You don’t need help,” Stefano finished for me, his voice understanding rather than mocking. “But you can accept it anyway. Just this once.”
Yea, like this is a temporary concession rather than me completely surrendering what little independence I have left.
Before I could overthink it further, Marco’s hands were in my hair, fingers working shampoo through the strands with deliberate care. His nails scraped lightly against my scalp, sending shivers down my spine that had nothing to do with the cool water.
“Feel good?” he asked, his voice warm with amusement as my head fell back into his touch without permission.
“Shut up,” I mumbled, but the words came out breathless when his fingers found that spot at the base of my skull that made tension I didn’t know I was carrying dissolve.
Stefano’s chest rumbled with amusement against my back, his arms tightening around my waist as I sagged into their combined touch. “Such a responsive little wildcat,” he murmured against my ear. “Always fighting what feels good.”
That’s exactly what I’m doing, and I can’t seem to stop myself from losing.
When Matteo’s soap-slicked hands slid across my shoulders, I bit back a sigh of relief. His touch was firm, clinical, fingers working the knots from muscles that had been tense for longerthan I cared to admit. When his thumbs pressed into the spots where my neck met my shoulders, I couldn’t stop the soft sound of relief that escaped.
“You carry all your stress here,” he observed quietly, working at a particularly tight spot until I nearly melted against Stefano. “When’s the last time anyone took care of you properly?”
The answer is never, but I’m not about to admit that to three alphas who are already treating me like some fragile thing that needs protecting.
“I don’t need taking care of,” I said, though my voice lacked conviction when Matteo’s skilled fingers were turning my spine to jelly.
“Everyone needs taking care of,” Marco said gently, rinsing the shampoo from my hair with careful attention. “Even stubborn omegas who think they have to handle everything alone.”
“Such pretty marks,” Marco continued, one hand leaving my hair to trace the tender spots on my throat where Stefano had bitten me. “They’re healing well.”
“They’re embarrassing,” I managed, though I made no move to stop his careful examination.
“They’re beautiful,” Stefano corrected against my neck, pressing a soft kiss to a spot he hadn’t marked. “Evidence that you’re cared for. Protected.”
Like these marks are some kind of shield rather than just evidence of my complete surrender to three alphas who know exactly how to make me melt.
Everything was going smoothly until the dogs decided to join our bathing session. Apollo and Zeus bounded into the water with joyful barks, immediately swimming enthusiastic circles around us. Their playful splashing sent ripples across the surface, creating shadows and movement everywhere.
“At least someone’s having fun,” I muttered, watching Zeus paddle past with his tongue lolling out happily.
The dogs’ presence should have been comforting—familiar faces in this sea of alpha overwhelm. Instead, their vigorous swimming was stirring up the pond bottom, creating murky swirls and disturbing whatever lived beneath the surface.
That’s when I felt something brush against my leg.
Something that definitely wasn’t a dog paw or alpha hand. Something that slithered and moved with its own agenda, trailing along my calf like a wet rope before disappearing into the murky water.
Pure instinct took over. Every horror movie I’d ever watched, every nightmare about things lurking beneath the surface, crashed into my consciousness at once. I didn’t think—I just reacted, lunging toward the nearest solid object with a strangled yelp of terror.
That solid object happened to be Stefano.
I hit him with the force of a panicked missile, arms wrapping around his neck, legs clamping around his waist like a desperate koala. My entire front pressed against his chest, wet skin sliding against wet skin, my body molding to his with embarrassing completeness.
Oh fuck. Oh fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m clinging to him like a scared child. This is the most humiliating thing that has ever happened to me, and that’s saying something given recent events.
“Something touched me!” I gasped against his neck, my voice higher than usual with panic. “There are things in the water! Something slimy! It touched my leg!”
