“Mine,” I say, my voice steady despite the rapid beating of my heart.
His only response is to lower his head, bringing his face closer to mine. But he doesn’t kiss me. He waits, giving me the final choice, the final move.
I rise on my tiptoes, closing the last inch between us. Our lips meet, and it’s like completing a circuit. Electricity courses through me. His kiss is controlled, but beneath it is a banked fire that threatens to consume us both.
His large hands span my waist, lifting me slightly to bring me closer. I wrap my arms around his neck, deepening the kiss, pouring everything I feel into it.
When we finally break apart, I don’t wait. I move to his shoulder, my teeth finding purchase on the solid muscle. I bite down.
Dane’s response is a low, rumbling growl. A vibration that travels from his chest into mine.
Four marks. Four claims. My pack.
I step back, looking at the four of them, at the matching marks on their shoulders. My marks. My claim.
“Now you,” I whisper, tilting my head to expose my neck, the smooth skin where their claiming marks once resided. “It’s your turn.”
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Zoe
“Now you,” I whisper, tilting my head to expose my neck, the smooth skin where their claiming marks once resided. “It’s your turn.”
The air in the room shifts, growing dense, heavy with a potent mixture of cedarwood and ginger, peppermint and cardamom.
For a heartbeat, no one moves. The four alphas seem frozen, as if they can’t quite believe what I’m offering. What I’m asking for.
Then Rett’s control shatters.
A sound tears from his throat. Not a word, not even a growl, but something deeper. Like the sound of an alpha who has been denied his mate for too long.
He moves so fast I barely register it. One moment he’s across the room, the next he’s scooping me up as if I weigh nothing, throwing me over his shoulder in a single, fluid motion that knocks the breath from my lungs.
“Rett!” I yelp, my hands grabbing instinctively at the back ofhis shirt as he strides from the living room. “What are you doing?!”
He doesn’t answer. Doesn’t need to. His intentions are perfectly, crystal clear.
Behind us, I hear the others following. The hunt is on, and they already have their prey.
Me.
The thought sends a thrill of both fear and anticipation down my spine. These aren’t the careful, considerate men I’ve been living with for weeks. This is something else. Something possessive and utterly, terrifyingly alpha.
Rett doesn’t take me to my room. He carries me straight to the master suite, to the massive bedroom with its California king bed where all of this began. Their bed. The pack bed.
Rett lays me down in the center of the bed with a reverent, possessive care, his hands smoothing over my hips and thighs as he releases me. His eyes are a dark, stormy blue, burning with a raw hunger that makes my breath still in my chest.
He pulls back then, just a single step, giving me a fraction of an inch of space.
Before I can even push myself up, they are there. All four of them, surrounding the bed like sentinels. A four-man wall of hard muscle, hot skin, and overwhelming alpha scent. Their eyes are locked on me, burning with a shared, singular purpose.
Mine.
I should be terrified. Instead, I feel an answering hunger rise within me, a deep, burning need. I want this. I want them. All of them.
“Well?” I say, my voice breathy. “Are you just going to stand there and stare, or are you going to claim what’s yours?”
Something dangerous flashes in Rett’s eyes. “You have no idea what you’re asking for,” he says, his voice a low, rough growl.
