"Status is... sticky," Zia murmured, shifting her legs. She winced, just a flicker of movement in her eyes. "And sore. Definitely sore."
Kit, the Great Wall of Manchester, stirred behind me. He was the outer perimeter, his massive back shielding us from the door, but he rolled over now, reaching a long arm across the pile to rest a hand on Zia’s stomach.
"Water," Kit rumbled, his voice dropping so low it vibrated the floorboards. "Hydration protocol. Don't move."
He sat up, the duvet pooling around his waist, revealing the fresh scratches on his shoulders. Zia’s work. I stared at the red welts against his ink, a flash of jealousy and pride mixing in my gut. We were all marked. My lip was split. Euan had a bruise on his hip the shape of her heel.
Kit grabbed the water bottle from the nightstand and cracked the seal. He handed it to Zia, helping her sit up slightly, supporting her head.
She drank like she’d been in a desert. Water spilled down her chin, and without thinking, I reached up and thumbed it away, licking the drop from my skin. It tasted like her sweat.
"Better?" Kit asked, taking the bottle back.
"No longer lump. Am human again," she whispered. She leaned back against Euan, who immediately adjusted to support her weight.
She looked at us. Properly looked at us.
Her hair was a disaster, a purple-black bird's nest. Her lips were swollen, bruised a dark rose. She was wearing Euan’s t-shirt, pulled askew, revealing the bite mark I’d left near her collarbone—not a Claiming bite, not yet, but a promise. A placeholder.
"You stayed," she said softly.
It wasn't an accusation. It was wonder.
"Where else would we be, fox?" I pushed myself up on my elbows, the movement making my own muscles protest. "This is the bus. We live here."
"You know what I mean," she said, tracing the letters on my thumb with her eyes.ASK."The post-coital sprint. The awkward morning after where everyone remembers you’re the employee and we’re the employers."
"Don't," Euan said sharply, tightening his arm around her. "Do not categorize last night as a transaction."
"It wasn't a transaction," Kit agreed, leaning in to press a kiss to her knee. "It was a revelation."
"You’re cheesy," she muttered, but she was smiling. A real smile. Not the polite producer smile, but a soft, sleepy expression that made my heart do a kick-flip in my chest. "And you’re all staring."
"Can't help it," I confessed, resting my chin on her thigh. "Triple match, remember? Now that the dam’s broken, the signal is... loud. Very loud."
"And the Do-Nothing Protocol?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Overwritten," I said immediately. "New firmware installed.Do-Everything-You-Ask Protocolis now live."
"Option B," she whispered, the memory of the text message hanging in the air.
"Option B," I echoed.
The bus hit a pothole, the suspension groaning as we sped north through the rain. The vibration traveled through the mattress, shaking us all together like loose change in a pocket.
I felt... complete.
It was a terrifying feeling. Usually, I felt like a jagged edge looking for a surface to cut, or a frequency trying to find a phase that didn't cancel me out. But right now? Sandwiched between my best mates and the woman who smelled like lightning, with the scent of sex and safety heavy in the air? I was solid. I was gold.
"Right," Zia said, slapping my shoulder gently. "I need the bathroom. And if you all try to carry me there, I will invoke the Exit Card."
"Card's on the table," Euan noted, pointing to where she'd flipped it. "But the threat is acknowledged."
"I'll clear the path," Kit said, standing up and pulling on his boxers. "Make sure Cal isn't in the corridor. Give you privacy."
"Thank you," she said.
I watched her extricate herself from the tangle of sheets. She moved gingerly, her legs looking a bit shaky, and the possessive roar in my head was a physical sound.We did that. We wrecked her and she liked it.
