“I know.” I press a kiss to my mark on her throat. “Whenever you’re ready.”
“Few more minutes.” She nuzzles into my chest. “Like having you inside me.”
I keep purring, keep holding her, keep feeling her happiness pulse through the bond.
When my knot finally slips free, we both whimper. I watch my cum drip out of her, mixing with Milo’s, and something possessive in me growls with satisfaction.
Mine. Ours. Pack.
I help her into what’s left of Elijah’s flannel. I really did destroy those buttons, and we walk back to the living room together.
Two bite marks on her throat now. Milo’s on the left. Mine on the right.
One more spot. One more alpha.
Elijah’s on his feet before we’re halfway down the hall, his eyes locked on Tessa like she’s the answer to every question he’s never been able to ask.
“Your turn,” I tell him. “Complete the set.”
He doesn’t speak. Just crosses to her, cups her face in his hands, and kisses her like he’s been waiting three years to do exactly this.
Which he has.
I settle onto the couch next to Milo.
“Hell of a night,” I say.
“Hell of a night,” he agrees.
Through the bond, I feel Tessa’s joy as Elijah leads her toward the master bedroom. Feel her love expanding, making room for the last piece of our pack.
Almost there.
One more bond, and we’ll be complete.
Chapter 29
Elijah
She’s wearing my flannel.
Or what’s left of it—Ben destroyed the buttons, so it hangs open, barely covering her. Two bite marks on her throat. Milo’s on the left. Ben’s on the right. Her scent is layered with both of them now, chocolate and leather woven through her lavender and citrus.
But there’s still room for me.
Three years. Three years of watching her from across crowded rooms. Three years of building furniture for a pack I wasn’t sure would ever exist. Three years of loving her in silence because words have never come easy for me, and the ones I wanted to say felt too big to fit in my mouth.
I’m done being silent.
When Ben says “your turn,” I’m already moving. Crossing the room. Taking her face in my hands. Kissing her like I’ve been dreaming of for three years.
She melts into me immediately. Her mouth opens, her hands fist in my shirt, and she makes a sound against my lips, desperate and needy, that goes straight to my cock.
She tastes like Ben. Like Milo. Like herself underneath. Like pack.
I guide her down the hall without breaking the kiss. Past the guest room that smells like sex and satisfaction. To my bedroom at the end of the hall.
My bed. The one I built with my own hands. The headboard I carved with mountain peaks. The frame I made strong enough to last a lifetime.
