Maybe it’s because Tansy’s slick is everywhere.
Or the mating bites.
Or her scent.
Fuck, it hurts!
Cass pushes on my hips, forcing me to grind on him. The pain is sharp, a deep, aching stretch that borders on unbearable. But underneath it, there's something else. A weird, overwhelming sense of rightness, of belonging.
It's so emotional, so profound, that it makes me tear up, my vision blurring as I'm tied to my alpha. A permanent, unbreakable bond forged in the heat of our omega's mating.
"Beck? Oh, my god. Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" Cass’s voice is a worried whisper against my ear, his lips immediately finding my cheek, my temple, kissing away the tears I didn't realize were falling. He squeezes my hips, his touch gentle now, clearly trying to ease any pain he's caused.
I lift my head to look at him, a watery, genuine smile spreading across my face. A few more tears slip down my cheeks, but they're not from pain.
"I feel wonderful," I whisper, my voice thick with emotion. "Perfect.”
A slow, relieved smile spreads across his face, and he leans in, kissing my lips, a soft, gentle press. "Yes," he whispers against my mouth, his voice full of a wonder that matches my own. “You are.”
A Few Days Later
Tansy
I’m standing at the sink, unloading the dishwasher one warm plate at a time, and I feel fucking amazing.
That’s the only way to describe it.
Not good.
Not okay.
But amazing, like my body finally feels right for the first time in my life.
I open a nearby cupboard and reach up to put away a few coffee cups. My mating bites pull faintly when I reach too high, still raw enough to remind me they’re there.
The skin around them is tender, flushed, and sensitive to even the softest brush of fabric. But I like it. It reminds me of who I belong to.
The bonds with Warren and Gray didn’t crash into me all at once the way it did with Cass. Instead,they’ve been growing—slow, deliberate threads weaving deeper every hour.
I feel Warren like a cool, focused pressure behind my eyes, calm and watchful, his presence settling my thoughts when they start to spiral. There’s a steadiness to him that slides neatly into the spaces Cass doesn’t fill, smoothing things out instead of overpowering them.
Grason is warmth. Low and constant. A heavy, reassuring presence that sits right behind my ribs, like a broad hand at my back. When I think of him, my body eases automatically, muscles loosening without me telling them to.
He doesn’t crowd the bond. He reinforces it quietly, relentlessly.
All three bonds are heaven.
I slide the last glass into the cabinet and lean my hip against the counter, breathing it in.
Footsteps sound behind me, unhurried and familiar. I don’t need to turn around to know who it is.
Grason steps into view, wearing slacks and a polo that fit him a little too well. Clean lines, short sleeves that hug his big biceps, and broad shoulders that make me want to melt just looking at them.
He looks so damn good.
“Someone feels good this afternoon,” he says as he moves to me.
I beam up at him, unable to help it. My arms wrap around his waist, cheek pressing to his chest as our bond thrums in response. His energy pulses through it, steady and warm, like a heartbeat syncing with mine.
