"Um," Remy said, eyeing the approaching alligator with understandable concern, his body tensing beside me. "Is he?—"
Gumbo reached the side of the bed and stopped, lifting his huge head to fix me with those yellow eyes. Then, with the grace of a creature who had been doing this for longer than any of us had been alive, he settled onto the floor beside the nest, his tail curling around to block the doorway.
Guarding. Protecting. Accepting.
He turned his head to look at each of the Alphas in turn—Harper, then Remy, then Silas—and made a low rumbling sound that I recognized as grudging approval.
"I think he's decided you can stay," I translated, a smile tugging at my lips.
"Generous of him," Silas said dryly, though I caught him eyeing Gumbo with something that might have been respect.
Gumbo's response was to yawn, displaying all sixty-some teeth in what was either a warning or a welcome. With Gumbo, it was hard to tell the difference. I laughed, exhaustion finally catching up with me, and let myself sink back against the pillows. Harper adjusted around me, pulling me against his chest. Remy curled up on one side, his head on my shoulder. Silas took the other, his hand finding mine again.
Surrounded by warmth and safety and the steady heartbeats of the men I loved, I finally let myself rest. Gumbo rumbled once from his spot on the floor—a sound of contentment, of completion—and I smiled against Harper's chest.
We weren't bonded yet. Not officially. But lying there in that rebuilt nest, with three Alphas wrapped around me and a nine-foot alligator guarding the door, I knew it was only a matter of time.
Soon.
For now, I closed my eyes and let sleep pull me under, dreaming of forever.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Artemis
Iwoke to the sound of a boat motor on the bayou and the smell of coffee brewing. For a long moment, I just lay there, cataloging the aches in my body. My thighs were sore. My hips were sore. There were muscles between my legs I hadn't known existed, and they were definitely sore. But it was the good kind of sore—the kind that came with memories that made my cheeks flush and my omega purr with satisfaction.
Three days. Three Alphas. More orgasms than I could count.
No regrets.
I stretched slowly, feeling the pull of overused muscles, and realized I was alone in the nest. The sheets beside me were still warm—someone had been here recently—and I could hear voices drifting in from somewhere in the house. Male voices, low and comfortable, punctuated by Remy's laugh and the clink of dishes.
Domestic sounds. Pack sounds.
I smiled against the pillow, then forced myself to sit up. My head spun for a moment—I was still recovering, still rebuildingmy strength after the heat had wrung me dry—but it passed quickly. I found one of Harper's flannel shirts draped over the end of the bed and pulled it on, breathing in his pine-and-whiskey scent as the fabric settled around me.
By the time I made it to the kitchen, I felt almost human.
All three of them were there. Harper stood at the stove, flipping pancakes with the focused intensity he brought to everything. Remy was perched on the counter, stealing bacon off a plate while Silas pretended not to notice. The morning light streamed through the windows, catching the gold in Remy's hair and the silver threading through Harper's beard.
"She lives," Remy announced when he spotted me, his amber eyes lighting up, his whole face breaking into that bright grin. He hopped off the counter and crossed to me in three strides, pulling me into his arms and burying his nose in my hair. "Thought you might sleep till noon, chere."
"Considered it," I admitted, my voice still rough from sleep—and from three days of screaming. I leaned into his warmth, letting his honey-whiskey scent wrap around me. "But I smelled coffee."
"Priorities," Silas said from his spot at the table, his pale eyes soft with something that might have been amusement as he pushed a mug toward the empty chair beside him, steam curling from the dark liquid. "Sit. Eat. You need to rebuild your strength."
"So bossy," I teased, rolling my eyes even as I did as he said, sinking into the chair with a grateful sigh. The coffee was perfect—strong and dark, exactly how I liked it. Silas had been paying attention. Harper set a plate in front of me without a word—pancakes, bacon, eggs, more food than I could possibly eat. When I raised an eyebrow at him, he just shrugged, his gray eyes warm beneath his perpetual frown.
"You barely ate for three days," he said, his voice a low rumble as he settled into the chair across from me, his own plate in hand. "Your body needs fuel."
"What my body needs is a hot tub and a massage therapist," I muttered, but I picked up my fork anyway. The first bite of pancake was heaven—fluffy and sweet, with a hint of vanilla. "Did you put vanilla in these?"
"Mémère's recipe," Remy said, sliding into the chair on my other side, bracketing me between him and Silas. His thigh pressed against mine under the table, warm and solid. "She always said the secret to good pancakes was?—"
"Let me guess," I interrupted, raising an eyebrow at him. "Love?"
"Buttermilk, actually," he said, his dimple flashing as he reached for his own coffee, amber eyes dancing with amusement. "But love doesn't hurt." I laughed, the sound startling in its normalcy—and something in my chest unknotted. This was real. This was my life now. Three Alphas who made me pancakes and let me steal their shirts and looked at me like I'd hung the moon.
