“Getting there.” I lean back on my hands, letting the sun warm my face, but my chest still feels tight, like it forgot how to unclench. “Is this your way of putting things in perspective? Showing me how big the world is and how small my problems are?”
“Not at all.” Seth shifts to face me, bending one knee between us, close enough that his shadow cuts across my legs. “It’s to remind you that when everything around you goes to shit, the world hasn’t fallen apart. It’s still here, still breathtaking and standing.” He holds my gaze like he’s anchoring me to something solid. “And whatever comes at you, you’re going to get through it. Not because you have to. Because you can.”
Something in my throat pricks. I blink hard and look away for half a second, embarrassed by how fast emotion consumes me when he talks like he’s already decided I’m worth fighting for.
I glance back at him, and he’s watching me with that serious, intense focus that twists my stomach.
“Besides,” he adds, nodding toward the horizon, “see those three mountains in the distance?” He pauses until I follow his gesture. “That’s me, Carter, and Kai. Overlooking everything. Watching over you.” His mouth curves slightly, but his eyes stay fierce. “Reminding you that you’ll never be alone again.”
I laugh, loving the notion.
“Whatever you’re facing, all four of us face together. So you aren’t homeless. You have us and will be with us wherever we are.”
“I don’t even know where you really live.”
“Colorado, technically.” He shrugs as if it barely matters. “But we’ve been living like nomads for years.” His gaze stays on mine, unflinching. “I’m ready to find somewhere permanent for my pack, for my Omega.”
The butterflies in my stomach go wild, stupid and bright. My chest aches in a way that isn’t pain, not exactly. More like something opening.
I reach over and brush the longer strands of hair away from his eyes. My fingers linger because I can’t help it. He’s sohandsome it almost hurts to look straight at him, and the way his whole body angles toward me leaves me swooning.
“I don’t think you realize how committed we are,” he says quietly. His hand lifts and closes over mine. “You’re more important to us than the rodeo. Than any win. Than any damn expectation anyone’s ever put on us.”
My throat tightens. “I’m starting to see that,” I whisper. “It’s just… new for me. Being wanted without it coming with strings.”
Seth’s expression shifts, something protective tightening in his jaw. He doesn’t look away. “You won’t lose us.”
I swallow, the old fear trying to rise anyway. “You can’t be sure. Nothing in life is certain.”
“Then I’ll spend every day convincing you.” His thumb rubs over my knuckles, slow and steady. “I’ll show you. Over and over, if I have to.” He leans closer. “I’m not promising you perfect, June. I’m promising you me. And I don’t let go of what’s mine.”
The possessive edge in his words should make me bristle. Instead, my eyes sting again, and tears are building up.
I nod once, because I can’t quite speak, and Seth’s hand tightens on mine.
I stare at him, this grumpy, intense man who keeps showing up at the exact moment my world cracks, and something in me finally gives. So I lean forward and kiss him.
My mouth brushes his in soft presses, waiting for him to pull back or tease or make a joke to break the tension. He doesn’t and just stays still, letting me set the pace and be the one to choose it.
That alone nearly undoes me.
When I shift closer and deepen it, he answers. Not with frenzy, not with desperation. With certainty. His hand comes up, cups my jaw, and angles me where he wants me, taking control without stealing the choice. My stomach tightens, fire burningbetween my thighs because Seth does not do anything halfway. Even a kiss from him feels like being claimed.
We sink down onto the blanket, the mountains and sky turning into a blur at the edge of my vision. Seth settles beside me, not crushing me, just close enough that his shoulder and hip line up with mine, his weight braced on one arm as he leans over me and blocks the wind with his body. His palm slips under my shirt, flattening against my stomach, and my breath catches at the simple intimacy of it. He’s just holding me there, steady, reminding my nervous system what safe feels like.
He breaks the kiss and drags his mouth down my throat, teeth grazing the spot that makes my pulse jump. “I saw it this morning,” he says against my skin. “Kai’s mark.”
Heat rushes up my neck. “Jealous?”
“You don’t want the honest answer if you’re trying to keep this sweet.”
I huff a laugh, breathless. “Try me.”
His head lifts, those bedroom eyes fixed on me with a hard-focus attention that makes it impossible to pretend I’m unaffected. “I’ve been thinking about it since Carter gave you one,” he admits out loud. “Thinking about you wearing his bite while you look at me with those innocent eyes.”
I should be embarrassed. Instead, my body responds with a sharp, hot pull, and I press my thighs together.
The pieces in my head keep clicking into place. Carter’s mark. Kai’s mark. Once Seth adds his, once the bond locks in the way my biology has been resisting for years, my body won’t be able to keep playing dead. The suppressants, the dormant diagnosis, all the control I’ve clung to will finally stop mattering.
