I believe all of them.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Cole
I’ve never considered myself particularly poetic, but watching Sierra come apart for the third time in less than an hour makes me understand why people write sonnets about beautiful things.
She’s gorgeous like this. Flushed and trembling, tears streaming down her face, completely wrecked in the best possible way. The syrupy thickness of her scent is so thick in the air it’s drowning out everything else, sweet and heady and absolutely intoxicating.
And I’m so fucking hard it hurts.
We all are. I can see it in the way Jalen’s breathing has gone shallow, the way Malik keeps shifting his weight, and the corded muscles standing out in Dax’s forearms as his hands cup Sierra’s face. We’re all barely holding on, rut clawing at our control, demanding we take what our omega is offering.
Our omega…
I never knew that would sound so right until I thought it.
But we’re waiting. Making sure she’s ready. Making sure this is good for her.
Even if it’s killing us.
“More,” Sierra whispers, her voice wrecked and desperate. “Please. I need more.”
The plea goes straight to my dick, and I have to bite back a groan. Beside me, Jalen makes a choked sound.
“Okay, sweetheart,” I manage, surprised my voice comes out relatively steady. “Okay. We’re going to give you what you need.”
I pull my fingers free slowly, mourning the loss of her heat, and she whimpers at the absence. The sound makes all four of us tense.
“Easy, omega,” Dax soothes, his thumbs brushing away her tears. “You won’t be empty for long. We’re going to take care of you.”
“Promise?” she asks, and the vulnerability in her voice makes my chest tight.
“Promise,” Malik confirms. He’s already pulling his shirt over his head, revealing the defined muscles beneath. “Which of us do you want first, Sierra?”
The question hangs in the air for a moment. Sierra’s heat-glazed eyes drift over all four of us like she’s trying to make an impossible decision.
“I—” She swallows hard. “I don’t know. I want—” Her breath hitches. “All of you. But I don’t know who?—”
“It’s okay,” Jalen says gently. He’s working on his own shirt now, and I realize I should probably be doing the same. “You don’t have to choose. We’ll figure it out.”
I pull my shirt off and toss it aside, then work on my shorts. The fabric is already straining against my erection, and when I finally free myself, the relief is almost painful.
Around me, my brothers are doing the same. Jalen’s movements are careful despite the obvious bulge in his shorts, and Malik is the same.
Dax is still focused entirely on Sierra, his hands on her face, his forehead now pressed to hers.
“Who do you want, omega?” he asks quietly. “Tell us. We’ll give you whatever you need.”
But Sierra seems beyond words now. Her eyes are glazed with heat, her body trembling, fresh slick pooling between her thighs. She’s reaching the point where coherent thought is becoming difficult. Where instinct takes over, and all she knows is need.
The peak of heat, when an omega becomes almost feral with desperation. When they need a knot so badly that nothing else matters.
We’re not there yet. Sierra’s still aware, still present. But we’re close.
“Please,” she whimpers again, and her hands come up to grip Dax’s shoulders. “Please, alpha?—”
The word ‘alpha’ makes all four of us growl in response. My rut surges, and I reach out to touch her, unable to stop myself.
