We followed her inside. She closed the door, turned to face us.
"I went off my suppressants," she said unnecessarily.
"We can tell," Jaxon managed.
"How long?" I asked.
"Three days. Since you left."
Three days without suppressants after twelve years of maximum dose. That was dangerous. Reckless.
Brave.
"Your scent," Jaxon said, his voice rough. "It's..."
"I know. It's strong."
"It's perfect," I corrected.
She smiled, small and uncertain. "I've been thinking about what you both said. About fear. About power. About choosing what I want instead of what I'm afraid of."
"And?" Jaxon stepped closer.
"And I choose this. I choose you. Both of you." She looked between us. "If you still want me."
"If we still want you?" I crossed to her, cupped her face. "Reina, I've wanted you since we were kids. Nothing has changed that. Nothing could change that."
"Same," Jaxon said, moving to stand beside me. "You're it for me, Pretty Girl. Always have been."
Tears welled in her eyes. "This is going to be hard."
"We know."
"We're going to have to figure out so much. The logistics, the secrecy, how to handle the teams and the media and everything."
"We will."
"And my heat..." She swallowed hard. "Without suppressants, it's going to come soon. Maybe days. Maybe less."
Jaxon and I exchanged a look.
"We'll handle it," I said. "Together."
"All three of us," Jaxon added.
She nodded, tears spilling over. "Okay. Okay, let's do this."
I kissed her then. I simply couldn’t help myself. Twelve years of waiting was poured into that single action.
When I pulled back, Jaxon was there. He kissed her too, just as desperate, just as claiming.
And I stood there watching them and waited for the jealousy to hit.
It didn't.
Instead, all I felt was rightness.
This was how it was supposed to be.
