The roar of Remy's motorcycle cut through the moment, followed by the crunch of gravel and then silence. I heard him before I saw him—humming something low and sweet, his footsteps light on the dock despite his boots.
"Well, isn't this cozy." He appeared beside us, dropping into a crouch with easy grace, his amber eyes bright with mischief and something darker underneath—that jealousy Silas had mentioned, maybe, though he hid it better than Harper. "Starting without me?" He asked, his honeyed accent thick with mock hurt, his curls falling across his forehead in artful disarray.
"You were late." Silas said flatly, not looking at him, his pale eyes still fixed on the water.
"I was on time." Remy protested, settling onto the dock on my other side, close enough that his thigh pressed against mine through the thin fabric of my shorts. "Seven means seven. Not six-thirty." He shot Silas a look that was half challenge, half curiosity.
"Seven means you should already be here at seven." Silas returned, his voice carrying that military precision I was learning to recognize. "Anything else is late." He paused, his jaw working. "Civilian." He added, the word somehow managing to be both an insult and almost fond.
Remy opened his mouth to retort, but Harper's return cut him off. The big Alpha carried two mugs of coffee—one for himself, one that he handed to Remy without a word, his dark eyes meeting the other man's for just a moment before sliding away.
"Thanks." Remy sounded surprised, his amber eyes widening slightly as he accepted the mug, his fingers brushing Harper's in the exchange. "You didn't poison this, did you?" He asked, sniffing the coffee suspiciously, though his lips were twitching.
"Would've been too easy." Harper rumbled, settling onto the dock on Silas's other side, his massive frame making the wooden boards creak in protest. "Rather beat you fair." He added, and I caught the barest hint of humor in his dark eyes, the faintest quirk at the corner of his mouth.
Remy barked a laugh—genuine, startled. "Fontenot made a joke." He announced to no one in particular, clutching his chest with his free hand. "Someone alert the authorities." His dimples appeared in full force, his amber eyes crinkling with surprised delight.
"Don't get used to it." Harper muttered, but his shoulders had relaxed slightly, the tension bleeding out of his massive frame.
I watched this exchange with something warm spreading through my chest. This was what I'd wanted. What I'd hoped for. The three of them learning to be around each other without bristling, without posturing, without the constant low-grade hostility that had marked their first interactions. It wasn't friendship—not yet, maybe not ever—but it was something.
"Alright." I stood, brushing off my shorts and turning to face them. "Finish your coffee. We've got ground to cover." I pointed toward my pirogue, already loaded with supplies—water, snacks, a first aid kit, bug spray. "Today, you're getting the full tour. My territory. My rules." I let my gaze move from one to the next, holding each of their eyes. "Any questions?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.
"Just one." Remy raised his hand like a schoolboy, his amber eyes dancing with mischief. "Is the murder lizard coming with us?" He jerked his chin toward the water, where Gumbo had resurfaced, his massive form floating with deceptive laziness.
"Gumbo goes where Gumbo wants." I said, fighting back a smile. "If he decides to follow us, that's his business." I paused, letting a wicked grin spread across my face. "Try not to fall in the water. He hasn't had breakfast yet." I watched Remy's face pale slightly, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed.
"She's joking." Harper said, though he didn't sound entirely certain, his dark eyes flicking toward the alligator with wary respect.
"Am I?" I let the question hang in the humid air, then turned and headed toward the pirogue, my bare feet sure on the weathered dock. Getting three large Alpha males into a pirogue designed for one small Omega was an exercise in creative geometry.
Harper took the front, his massive weight settling the bow deep into the water, his dark eyes scanning the bayou ahead with that watchful intensity that never seemed to fade. Silas claimedthe back, paddle in hand, his pale eyes tracking every movement in the water and trees around us. That left Remy in the middle, squeezed between supplies and increasingly vocal complaints.
"This is cozy." He muttered, shifting his long legs for the third time in as many minutes, his knee bumping against a cooler. "Really intimate. I feel like we're bonding." His voice dripped with sarcasm, his amber eyes rolling heavenward.
"Quiet." Silas's voice cut through the morning air like a blade, his paddle dipping into the water with barely a ripple. "You'll scare the wildlife." He added, his pale eyes fixed on something in the distance.
"I am the wildlife." Remy shot back, but he lowered his voice anyway, settling into an almost-comfortable slouch. "Where are we going, anyway?" He asked, directing the question at me.
I stood at the center of the pirogue, perfectly balanced, my own paddle working in easy rhythm with Silas's. I'd been doing this since I was twelve—Marguerite had made sure of that—and the bayou felt like an extension of my own body, familiar as breathing.
"Everywhere." I said, letting my gaze sweep across the cypress and moss, the still water reflecting the sky like a mirror. "This is my home. Has been since I was sixteen." I pointed toward a twisted cypress draped in Spanish moss. "That's where I caught my first fish. Nearly fell in, but Marguerite grabbed me by the back of my shirt." I smiled at the memory, something soft and sad tugging at my chest.
"Marguerite." Harper spoke the name carefully, like it was something precious, his deep voice quiet with respect. "Your aunt. The one who raised you." He said it as a statement, not a question, his dark eyes warm when they met mine.
"The one who saved me." I corrected gently, guiding the pirogue around a submerged log with practiced ease. "My parents didn't want an Omega daughter. They wanted an Alpha.When I presented wrong, they shipped me off to their crazy sister in the swamp." I kept my voice light, but the old hurt still flickered beneath the words, a scar that had healed but never quite faded.
"Their loss." Silas said from behind me, his voice rough with something that might have been anger on my behalf. "You're exactly what you should be." He added, quieter, almost too soft to hear over the gentle splash of paddles. I turned to look at him, surprised by the vehemence in his tone, the intensity in his pale eyes. He met my gaze steadily, unflinching, and I felt something warm bloom in my chest.
"Thanks, baby." I said softly, watching his pale eyes flicker at the endearment, his sharp cheekbones flushing slightly beneath his pale skin.
"Your parents." Remy's voice was harder than I'd ever heard it, his amber eyes dark with an anger that surprised me. "They still around? Still..." He trailed off, his jaw tight, his hands curling into fists against his thighs.
"Somewhere." I shrugged, turning back to face forward, guiding us deeper into the bayou. "They send letters sometimes. Usually when they want something, or when someone's told them I'm embarrassing the family name." I laughed, the sound bitter and sharp. "Apparently living alone in the swamp with an alligator and reading tarot cards for a living is unseemly." I let the sarcasm drip from my words.
"Fuck them." Harper's voice was a low growl, surprising me with its vehemence, his massive hands curling around the edge of the pirogue. "Family that throws you away doesn't get to judge how you live." His dark eyes were fierce when I glanced back at him, his jaw set in a hard line.
"Agreed." Remy nodded sharply, his usual levity completely gone, his amber eyes still dark with that protective anger."You've got us now. That's family." He said it simply, like it was obvious, like it was fact.
