Wyatt’s hand finds my chin. “You love it.”
I nod, still dazed.
Bastion leans in. “You ready?”
“Ready for what?”
Bastion grins, something wild and reckless in the way his lips part, and before I can brace myself, he sinks his teeth into my neck. Not a tease, not the playful nip I expect—but a real bite, deep enough to bruise, sharp enough that my vision whites out.
I gasp, the shock and pain blooming bright, but Bastion doesn’t pause. He holds me steady, hands strong at my waist, and marks me. I feel my blood beat against his mouth, the heat and ache and euphoria of being claimed. The pulse of it echoes through my whole body, from my scalp to the backs of my knees.
Just as I’m catching my breath, still dizzy from the first bite, Wyatt’s mouth is on the other side of my neck. He doesn’t give me time to flinch. His teeth sink in, perfectly mirrored, and there’s a moment where both bites flare—twin lines of fire, one on each side of my throat.
I cry out in both pleasure and pain, loud enough that it might echo off the alley walls and straight into the next zip code, but neither of them is self-conscious. Bastion’s hands grip tighter,holding me upright as my knees buckle. Wyatt’s bite is different—deeper, maybe, or just more desperate. I can feel his lips pressed to my skin, the small sound he lets out as he claims me.
The world blurs. My whole body goes hot and cold by turns. The pain, the pride, the dizzying rush of being theirs—claimed, for real, with proof that will outlast any social media cycle or Council decree. I cum again, I can’t even help it—just from the bite, the heat, and the knowledge that I’m theirs.
They let go at the same time, as if choreographed. I’m gasping, my pulse frantic, and for a second the only thing keeping me upright is the brick wall and Bastion’s hand.
Bastion pulls back first, licks a bead of blood from my skin with a slow, proprietary swipe of his tongue. Wyatt is still close, his breath soft against my ear, as if he can’t let go all at once.
Then they step back to frame me and stare at their handiwork with identical pride. I’ve never felt so exposed—and so safe—in my life.
I reach up, fingers trembling, and touch the spots where their teeth have left me. I can already feel the heat of swelling and the promise of bruises. The marks are going to show for days. Maybe weeks.
I fucking love it.
“There,” Bastion says. “Now everyone knows you’re ours.”
Wyatt grins, eyes bright. “Especially Ranier. Now it’s an invitation to him to finish what we’ve started.”
“Can you walk?” Wyatt asks.
“Probably not,” I admit. I sag between them, legs useless.
They carry me, one on each side, back to the car. I don’t care who sees. Iwantthem to see.
We pile into the backseat, tangled together. My hair is a mess and my dress is askew. I rest my head on Bastion’s shoulder while Wyatt’s fingers trace lazy circles on my thigh.
I close my eyes and savor the ache of the bite marks. The thrum of my own heart. And the certainty that for the first time, I belong to something bigger than myself.
“Hey,” Bastion says, voice rough with pride. “You did good tonight.”
I smile, teeth sharp. “So did you.”
Wyatt kisses my forehead. “We’re a pack now. For real.”
I drift, content, as the city races by outside. Whatever happens next, I’m not alone.
I’m an Everhart, now.
CHAPTER 25
Ranier
I don’t leavethe study after I finally get home. There’s too much leftover vicious energy floating around the manor from the event earlier, and I’m liable to say something permanent to someone who doesn’t deserve it.
It’s my fault. I know that. What I don’t understand is why I thought ignoring Emery the entire day would make her justgo away. Oranyof this go away.
