"You can take it," I promise, holding still as the swelling reaches its peak. "You were made for this. Made for us."
My knot is fully formed now, thick and heavy, locking us together completely. She's stretched tight around the base of my cock, her body gripping me in a way that sends electricity through every nerve ending.
"I'm stuck," she breathes, testing the connection with a small movement that makes us both groan. "You're actually inside me and I can't move."
"Mine," I growl, the possessiveness hitting me like a tidal wave. "Completely, utterly mine."
The urge to bite, to mark, to complete the bond is overwhelming now. "Do it," she begs, tilting her head to expose her throat. "Claim me, Xavier. Make me yours completely."
I sink my teeth into that unmarked spot, tasting copper and salt as her blood flows across my tongue. The bond snaps into place instantly, flooding me with her emotions: love so fierce it takes my breath away, trust absolute and unshakeable, satisfaction at finally being complete.
She screams my name as the claiming triggers her orgasm, body clenching rhythmically around my knot. The pressure is incredible, her inner muscles contracting around the thick base of my cock as waves of pleasure tear through her.
I follow her over the edge, spilling deep inside her while locked in place by my own biology. Pulse after pulse of release fills her as my knot keeps everything sealed inside, marking her internally as completely as the bite marks her externally.
We collapse together, breathing hard, skin slick with sweat and satisfaction. I lick the wound clean, sealing my mark, before pressing my forehead to hers.
"Mine," I whisper.
"Yours," she breathes back. "All of yours. Finally."
From across the room, Logan and Griffin watch with satisfaction and love. This is what we've been building toward, what we've all wanted without admitting it.
"Was it worth the wait?" Griff asks, voice amused.
Savannah looks between all of us, eyes bright with tears and joy. "Best weekend of my life," she says simply. "Though I have a feeling this is just the beginning."
Logan pushes off the wall, moving to join us on the couch. "It is," he promises, settling beside us. "Eventually we're going home, and we're going to spend the rest of our lives proving you made the right choice."
Griff joins us, completing our circle. Four bodies tangled together on an old couch in a concrete basement, but it feels like the center of the universe.
"I love you," Savannah says, and the words hang in the air like a benediction. "All of you. More than I ever thought possible."
"We love you too," we answer together, and it sounds like a vow, like a promise, like the beginning of forever.
The storm outside has finally quieted, but we've found our own perfect chaos. And I wouldn't trade it for anything.
37
SAVANNAH
The first thing that hits me when consciousness creeps back is the silence. Not the peaceful kind, but the suspicious absence of wind that's been howling like my mother when she finds out I've been hiding wedding disasters from her. It's so quiet I can actually hear my own heartbeat, three alphas breathing like they've conquered something, and downstairs, voices suggesting the other wedding guests are waking up to assess whatever romantic carnage happened last night.
Afternoon light filters through frost-covered windows because apparently I slept through half the day. The room looks like the world's most expensive adult snow globe, complete with pine scent from Emma's overdone Christmas decorations and the unmistakable musk of three very satisfied alphas who clearly think last night was their personal Super Bowl victory.
When Logan declared the basement situation handled and the rogue alphas officially gone, we'd migrated back upstairs sometime before dawn. Now I'm trapped between warm bodies like the unfortunate middle layer in a very naked, very complicated sandwich.
Logan's arm weighs across my waist like he's claiming real estate even in sleep. His breathing hits my shoulder in steady puffs that remind me exactly why I have zero regrets about last night's poor life choices.
Griff stirs behind me, nose pressed into my hair while he mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like "mine," which would be possessive and irritating if it weren't also ridiculously hot.
Xavier lies along my spine, hand spread across my breast with the casual ownership of someone who's clearly forgotten this isn't actually his property yet. I'm surrounded, pinned down by heat and muscle and the scent of us that fills the air thick enough to choke on.
My body aches in all the best ways, every spot they touched still humming with memory. I breathe them in because apparently my brain has decided we're doing the whole romantic heroine thing now.
"You're too quiet," Xavier murmurs behind me, voice rough with sleep. His lips brush my ear while his hand tightens like he's reminding me he's still here, still claiming space he hasn't technically earned.
"Just thinking," I whisper back, throat tight because emotions are stupid and inconvenient. "This feels right. All of it. You guys. This ridiculous situation we've created."
