I let out a growl. "No one except Orion and I will ever touch you intimately. If they do, I will remove their body parts, one by one, before burning the pieces."
"Jesus, you're intense."
"What he's trying to say," Orion cuts me off before I can retort, "is that once a pack is established, fated or otherwise, there's no… we don't intermingle. We mate for life. A pack is for life."
Mona looks like she's contemplating this, even though her neck is flushing pink. Her scent shifts, betraying the jealousy and arousal she's desperately trying to mask. "So, you expect me to believe both of you will be satisfied with one…" She clears her throat, then continues, voice tight. "With just me? You expect me to just… accept you as my boyfriends and I get no say in the matter?"
"No." My palm closes into a fist, and I refrain from hitting the table too hard, though the silverware still rattles. She flinches, and Orion tries to fix my harsh tone, but this time I cut him off. I lean forward, my eyes burning into hers, while I invade her space and breathe in her jasmine scent. She's not scared, my little mate. She's turned on. Shelikesmy intensity.
"I am not your fucking boyfriend, Mona. I am your mate. You cannot comprehend the depth of this because you were raised by humans. But you are not human. You're mad you don't get a say? Having a Moon Goddess blessed mate is not a choice. For either of us. It's a sacred gift. It's fucking fate."
She stares back at me, eyes flashing. She can lie all she wants, but her omega scent screams the truth: my possessiveness doesn't scare her—it awakens something she's uselessly trying to bury.
Ignoring my primal declaration, like I suspected she would, Mona shrugs. "But there's two of you." She points to each of us, like I can't count.
"You're really stuck on this plural thing, huh?" Orion muses, getting up from the table to clear the plates.
I lean in close again, and she mirrors me. Mona is touch-starved, that much is obvious. Orion described how she broke down at the hospital—how his touch almost fed her energy. Calmed her, helped her focus. She didn't just hold his hand—she clung to him, as if letting go meant she would drown. Even when she tried to pull away, she still leaned into him.
I noticed the same, and I've barely grazed her delicate flesh. Her entire demeanor changes with touch. Her shoulders drop, her breathing deepens. She needs her alphas.
We need our omega.
Alphas can have healthy relationships with any designation. But now that I've been close to her, breathed her in—no one will ever fill this void but her. It's like a puzzle piece I didn't know was missing. Her lulling, sweet omega nature is the only thing that will ever sate my possessive, aggressive alpha.
"What is it you're really asking, Mona? You want to know how it allfits? How two of us will take care of you and all your needs?"
Mona swallows whatever was forming on her tongue. The flush creeping up her neck darkens. I catch myself smiling at the thought of all the years to come, of her sharp comebacks and witty retorts.
"Or do you want to know about the bonding ritual?"
She coughs her response. "B-bonding ritual?"
My answering smile is feral. Her eyes flicker up and down my face, reassuring herself, I'm sure, that I'm not my brother. They linger on my teeth, which I can feel growing sharper, my bonding venom stinging the tips of my incisors. My alpha braces himself, ready to sink his teeth into her neck on command.
I reach out and she flinches when my fingers trace the half-moon scar on her neck. Silas's bite marks. It wasn't a bond; sheand her wolf would need to agree for that to happen. Still, I feel irrationally jealous that his mark is on her.
"Sorry, I—" she blinks rapidly, then pulls away, head tilted slightly as if listening to something. Her lips move almost imperceptibly before she turns back to me. "What's the bonding ritual?"
My mate is odd. I've noticed she does this. Almost disappears inside her head for a moment before refocusing on what's in front of her. I've seen her do it a few times already. I answer her, anyway. "Think of it as the final step in solidifying a pack. It only happens between mates. It enhances the shifters' connection to help keep their mate protected."
She swallows audibly, then she shoves away from the table, the chair legs scraping against the wood floor. I let her retreat, watching as she helps Orion clear the table, her movements stiff. He does all the work, but I think he likes having something to talk to her about, even as mundane as the dishes.
When she realizes I'm just watching—deliberately relaxed against the kitchen door, arms crossed—she narrows her eyes and brushes past me. I trail after her while she explores the cabin.
"Is this all yours?" She gestures to the living room, to the old leather couches patched with darker squares of hide where we've repaired claw marks and tears over the years, the homemade wooden furniture and lamps littered throughout the space.
"Yes. We fix what we can, but furniture doesn't last longer than a decade around this many shifters." It's an odd feeling—I'm slightly defensive and ashamed for having such old, worn things. Would my mate like something more modern? Cleaner, that didn't smell of so many wolves coming and going? I don't have time to dwell before she's onto the next thing.
"You grew up here?" She pauses in front of an old photograph. I stand behind her, looking at the image of myfather, his jaw sharp and uncompromising, much like mine. He migrated to this land from the north centuries ago, made a pact with one of the local Wabanaki tribes to protect the land. When colonization swept through, they did what they could to shield the mountains from the worst of it. It wasn't enough.
In the picture, he stands shoulder-to-shoulder with a tribal elder. Silas is beside them, the wolf silhouette freshly tattooed on his hand. Mona stares at the image, her breath shallow, fingertips hovering over the glass. I debate interrupting whatever dark place my brother's image brings her, but she pulls herself out of it and continues exploring.
"My father built this house," I answer her earlier question.
"So… his pack…"
"It was just him and my mother. As I said, some packs are small. The Moon Goddess decides. But yes, I grew up in this house."
