"The happiest." He kisses me softly, tenderly, nothing like the frantic coupling of moments ago. "Thank you for saying yes."
The others pile onto the bed around us, creating a nest of warm bodies and tangled limbs. Carlos's leg thrown over mine.Pedro's hand on my hip. Nacho's breath warm against my shoulder.
Pack.
"So." Carlos's voice breaks the comfortable silence. "Does this mean I can finally tell people you're our girlfriend? Because I've been dying to update my relationship status."
"Girlfriend seems inadequate." I snuggle deeper into the pile of alphas. "What's the word for 'I'm bonded to four alphas, and we just had three days of marathon sex'?"
Nacho's voice is dry. “I wish it was longer.”
"We've been blessed to have you." Pedro adds softly.
"Loved," Sergio says, his voice cutting through the teasing. "The word is loved."
After twenty-eight years of not quite fitting. After two years with a man who tried to make me smaller. After three weeks of falling and three days of burning.
Finally, irrevocably, completely loved.
"We should have a ceremony," I murmur, already half-asleep. "Something official. For my mom. "
"Whenever you want," Sergio says. "We're already yours. The ceremony is just making it public."
Carlos's hand finds mine under the blankets. "I vote for soon. I want to stand up in front of everyone and tell them you're ours."
"Soon," I agree. "When the timing feels right."
The heat simmers low in my blood, satisfied for now but not quite finished.
But I'm not worried. Because I have them. My pack. My family.
I can survive anything, with them beside me.
36
JESSICA
Iget dressed. Clean clothes feel amazing after days of heat.
Another rough night. Since we decided to all sleep in the guest room, which is officially mine now, the situation has been cramped. Two queen beds pushed together. Five people. The math doesn't work.
Pedro doesn't do kickboxing, but his sleeping body disagrees. I woke up on the floor this morning , courtesy of his unconscious martial arts routine. I managed to climb back up before anyone noticed. The last thing I need is three alphas ganging up on Pedro about his sleep violence. He'd get defensive, they'd get protective, nobody would be happy.
We're good. But we definitely need to figure out the bed situation.
One thing at a time.
My phone sits on the counter where someone plugged it in to charge. The screen shows seventeen missed calls, forty-three text messages, and approximately one million notifications from apps I don't remember downloading.
I ignore all of it except one name.
Sharon.
Three voicemails. All from Sharon.
I press play on the first one.
"Jess! Oh my God, it's happening. I'm in labor. The pack is freaking out. I'm freaking out. Call me when you get this. Love you."
