“You’ll have to frame that one,” Boone said, looking at the screen.
Willow rolled her eyes, cheeks warm.
They passed through a short tunnel, and the lights shifted again, reds and whites now, glowing in and around the trees. It felt quieter here, and Willow breathed it in. Her boots crunched gently over the path, her legs warm in the fleece-lined crotchless leggings, and under it all, she could still feel the echo of earlier, when they’d used her body like it belonged to them. Because itdid. She was kept constantly sore, but it’d become her new normal. When she came back to human after her Monday flights, she missed the feeling.
And her men always seemed to have a goal of getting her back to sore as quickly as possible, which she didn’t mind at all.
She smiled to herself, heart full.
The Rainbow Tunnel loomed ahead, the final stretch — a curved stone corridor completely wrapped in shimmering color, one shade blending into the next. They stepped in together and, for a moment, it felt like walking through light itself.
Willow reached out and held both Boone and Silas’s hands. “This,” she whispered. “This is the kind of thing we remember years from now, Sirs.”
Boone let go of her hand and slid his arm around her waist. “You’ll have more to remember before the week is out.”
She swallowed. The following night was her first official pre-full-moonmarking.
Kenny leaned close to her other ear. “And we’ll make sure it’s unforgettable, too.”
Her insides clenched, but she smiled, soft and full. Her men always took care of her. It might be terrible, but it would probably be wonderful, too. If not the actual act, the part that came after.
They stepped out of the tunnel and into the cool night air once more, the trail looping back toward the exit. The lights shimmered behind them, the chill biting a little, but Willow didn’t rush. She let herself be gathered — Boone on one side, Kenny on the other, Silas just behind — and walked slowly toward the future they were building.
Christmas was approaching, and it was theirs.
Later that night, when she was upside down, swinging back and forth while three floggers worked her, and then on the bed with three cocks in her, she decided life truly doesn’t get any better than this.
* * * *
But the next day, everything was different, starting with when the men arrived home. Her nerves were on edge, and not just because of the shift in her beloved routine, but because thebig date marked on the calendar since the day after she’d been collared had finally arrived.
She’d known this was coming, but it had been something in the distance, but now, it was the day before the first full-moon run of the month.
She wasn’t allowed dinner and had to serve them, quiet and obedient, standing beside the table to refill drinks or fetch condiments while both the plug and egg vibrated away inside her.
She was hungry, but she understood the purpose. When she drank their piss, they wanted it to hit an empty belly. Nothing in her stomach to dilute it. Straight into her bloodstream. Into her skin. Marking her from the insideandoutside.
She hadn’t been allowed even a sip of water since she ate lunch with Kenny.
Now empty of both the plug and egg, she lay on her back in the big shower in Kenny’s bathroom, her skin clean, hair dried fully after a scrub with scentless soap. No conditioner. The porcelain tile chilled her spine, but the position made it worse: wrists and ankles cuffed — right wrist to right ankle, left to left — so her arms stretched out and her legs bent back wide, her pussy and stomach completely exposed. Vulnerable. There was no modesty in it. No protection.
Only surrender.
The light in the bathroom was bright. Too bright. They circled her barefoot, naked. They’d been drinking all evening. Beer, water, more water. Her tongue felt thick in her mouth, her throat parched.
This wasn’t punishment, it was a ritual, and she was the canvas they meant to mark. They were wolves, and she was theirs. Sharing a mate went against their instincts, but the various relationships between the four of them were settling into stability and permanence. And yet, their wolves needed more.They needed tangible, primal proof she belonged to them, and needed to make a statement to the pack, to other shifters. They needed the world to know just how fucking much she belonged to them.
Also, though the men hadn’t said it, Willow thought they needed her to submit to them marking her.
In a nutshell, they needed to piss on their bitch, but it wasn’t degradation. It was feral.
Except for Silas. He probably saw it as both.
Kenny stood between her legs. Boone to her left. Silas to her right.
The first warm stream hit the inside of her thigh. A shock at first, then a wave of heat. Her muscles tensed, a sound catching in her throat, but she didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. She was exactly where she was meant to be.
A splash across her stomach, her mound, the curls above her clit. A stream aimed at her clit, then lowered until it went into her pussy.
