"You brought him fish." The big one appeared in the cabin doorway, leaning against the frame with his massive arms crossed, his voice a low rumble warm with amusement. "He was never going to eat you."
"He looked at me like I was a snack!" The loud one jabbed a finger in my direction, his whole body vibrating with theatrical offense.
"He looks at everyone like that." The quiet one materialized from the shadows at the edge of the dock like he'd been there all along, his pale eyes flat but carrying something that might have been humor in their depths. "It's just his face."
I opened one eye and fixed the quiet one with a long, considering stare. He met it calmly, his scarred face expressionless, something that might have been humor lurking in his pale gaze.
Hmph. My face was perfectly fine.
My human laughed again, and the sound was so bright, so free, that I felt something settle in my bones. This was right. This was good. My territory was secure, my human was protected, and the pack that had formed around her was strong and loyal and fierce.
The loud one bounded off the porch and down the path, graceful despite his energy, dropping down beside my human on the dock. He pressed a kiss to her temple, one arm wrapping around her waist, and she leaned into him with the easy trust of a creature who knew she was safe.
"Careful," she murmured, though she was smiling, her dark eyes dancing with amusement as she glanced down at my scarred snout just inches from the dock. "Gumbo's right there."
"Gumbo and I have an understanding." The loud one's amber eyes found mine, bright with challenge and something softer underneath—gratitude, maybe, or respect. His arm tightened around my human's waist, protective even as he grinned that too-wide grin of his. "Right, big guy? We're friends now. Companions in the noble cause of keeping this one—" he squeezed my human gently, his dimples carving deep into his cheeks, "—safe and happy."
I considered him for a long moment. Then I huffed, a sound that might have been agreement or might have been warning, and closed my eyes again.
He laughed, delighted, like I'd given him a gift.
Foolish creature. But... not unpleasant.
The big one joined them on the dock, lowering his massive frame with the careful grace of someone who knew the limits of old wood. He settled on my human's other side, one large hand finding her knee, his thumb tracing absent circles on her skin. She leaned into him too, balanced perfectly between the two of them, and I saw her eyes drift closed with contentment.
The quiet one remained standing, a sentinel at the edge of the dock, his pale eyes scanning the bayou for threats that were not there. Old habits, I understood. Some instincts never faded, no matter how safe the territory became.
"This is nice." My human's voice was drowsy, warm with the afternoon sun and the presence of her pack. Her eyes drifted half-closed, her body relaxed between her two Alphas in a way I had never seen when she first arrived. "Just... this. Being here. Being together. Not fighting anything, not worrying about anything. Just existing."
"Get used to it, sweetheart." The big one pressed his lips against her hair, his deep voice vibrating through her, his massive arm tightening around her shoulders. "This is our life now. This land, this cabin, this pack. Nobody's taking any of it away."
"Damn right." The loud one pressed another kiss to her temple, his golden curls brushing against her cheek. His amber eyes sparkled with mischief as he glanced over his shoulder at the cabin, then back at my human with a grin that showed too many teeth. "And speaking of our life—Silas and I were talking about the house. The new one. I have some ideas about the music room?—"
"No stage." The quiet one's voice was flat as still water, his scarred arms crossed over his chest, his pale eyes fixed on the loud one with an expression that brooked no argument.
"A small stage—" The loud one held up his hands, measuring something impossibly tiny between his palms, his dimples carving deep into his cheeks.
"No." The quiet one didn't move, didn't blink, his voice carrying the weight of absolute finality.
"A tiny, barely-there, almost-invisible—" The loud one's voice climbed with desperate hope, his amber eyes wide and pleading.
"Remy." My human was laughing again, that bright sound that made the whole bayou feel warmer, her dark eyes crinkling at the corners as she shook her head. "No stage."
The loud one clutched his chest dramatically, staggering back a step on the dock, his face a picture of wounded betrayal that would have fooled no one. "Et tu, cher? Betrayed by my own Omega." He pressed the back of his hand to his forehead like a swooning maiden. "I am devastated. Destroyed. I may never recover."
"You'll live." She patted his cheek with a hand that was more gentle than her words, her fingers lingering against his stubbled jaw. "Maybe we can put a stage on the back porch. For outdoor concerts."
His face lit up like the sun breaking through storm clouds, his amber eyes going wide, his whole body practically vibrating with sudden hope. "Really?"
"A small one." She held up her fingers, barely an inch apart, her lips twitching with barely suppressed amusement. "Tiny."
"I'll take it." He captured her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm, his lips warm against her skin, his amber eyes glowing with an affection so fierce it was almost painful to witness. "Have I mentioned lately that I love you?"
"Once or twice." But she was smiling, soft and sweet, her free hand coming up to cup his cheek, and I could smell the love onher like perfume—rich and warm and absolutely certain. "I love you too. All of you."
The big one made a low sound, something between a growl and a purr that rumbled through his massive chest, and pulled her closer against his side, his dark eyes soft with an emotion he rarely let show. The quiet one said nothing, but his hand found my human's shoulder, his scarred fingers impossibly gentle against her skin, and she reached up to cover his hand with her own, threading their fingers together.
They sat there as the sun sank lower over the bayou, painting the water in shades of orange and gold, and I watched them with the patience of centuries. Four heartbeats, separate but entwined. Four scents, distinct but mingling into something new—something that smelled like pack, like family, like home.
