"We've got some surprises planned for the show," he said, his deep voice rumbling through me. "Good ones."
"Better than the surprise of finding me half-dead under a tent?" I quipped, unable to help myself.
Kane choked on a laugh, while Fallon shot me a look that was half-exasperated, half-admiring. Asher muttered somethingthat sounded suspiciously like, "fucking hell, woman" under his breath.
"Too soon?" I asked innocently, blinking up at Xander.
The corners of his mouth twitched upward. "Much too soon. But you've earned the right to joke about it if you want."
And that was another change—the way they respected my agency now, my right to process my own trauma in whatever way worked for me. No more dictating what I could say or do or feel. No more decisions made without my input. I still remembered, vividly, the first time I’d told a doctor to tell me the truth, to stop keeping me out of the loop. But, even after that moment, not every doctor was transparent.
"So, what's on the agenda for our rare day off together?" I asked, looking around at the five of them.
Nitro's arm slipped around my waist, a casual possessiveness that sent pleasant shivers up my spine. "Whatever you want, Lucy-Loo," he murmured close to my ear. "Today is yours."
I leaned into his solid warmth, feeling the others watching us with varying degrees of hunger in their eyes. These men, who had once seemed so terrifying, now felt like home. The safest place I'd ever known.
"I want this," I said simply, gesturing to encompass all of us together. "Just this."
I moved across the room with deliberate steps, drawn to the space between Xander and Kane on the large sectional like a compass needle finding north. As I lowered myself between them, their heat enveloped me from both sides, their distinctive scents—Xander's forest-after-rain and Kane's leather-and-motor-oil—wrapping around me so thoroughly that I couldn’t help but feel totally, incandescently safe. The men shifted to accommodate me, their bodies angling toward mine with an instinctive protectiveness that made warmth unfurl in my chest.
Kane's arm draped casually over the back of the couch behind me, not quite touching but close enough that I could feel the energy radiating from him. Xander's thigh pressed against mine, solid and warm through the thin fabric of my leggings. I sank deeper into the cushions with a contented sigh.
“Perfect,” I breathed out.
My Alphas began to orbit closer, planets drawn to a sun. Fallon settled on an ottoman directly across from us, his intelligent eyes never leaving my face. Asher sprawled on the floor at my feet, his head tilted back against the edge of the sofa, close enough that I could have run my fingers through his dark hair if I'd reached out. And Nitro—intense, haunted Nitro—approached slowly before dropping to one knee in front of me.
"Do you need anything?" he asked, his voice rougher than usual. "Food? Water? A blanket?"
The concern in his eyes touched something deep inside me. This man who could kill anything with one precise throw of a blade, was kneeling before me with worry etched into every line of his face. Worry for me. Care for me.
In that moment, something shifted—inside me, around me, because of me. I had been healing physically for weeks, growing stronger each day. But this was different. This was healing of another kind, a recognition that I was no longer alone in the world. That these five men, with all their complexity and strength and damage, had become mine as surely as I had become theirs.
Without planning it, without overthinking it, I leaned forward and pressed my lips to Nitro's.
The kiss was gentle, almost chaste—a whisper of contact that nonetheless sent electricity racing through my veins. His lips were softer than I'd imagined, warm and pliant against mine. The kiss was brief, and when I pulled away, my mouth tingled.
Nitro stared at me, his eyes wide with surprise, his breathing suddenly shallow. For a heartbeat, I worried I'd misread everything, crossed a line that shouldn't have been crossed. I was so inexperienced. I didn’t truly understand an Alpha’s body language.
Then his expression changed, hunger replacing shock in a transformation so complete it stole my breath. His hand came up, fingers threading through my silver-white hair, cupping the back of my head with a gentleness that belied the intensity in his eyes.
"Lucy," he murmured, before rocking forward and pulling me into a kiss that obliterated any thought from my mind.
This was no gentle exploration. This was claiming, consuming, a kiss that spoke of weeks of restraint finally shattered. His tongue traced the seam of my lips, seeking entrance that I eagerly granted. The taste of him—coffee and cinnamon and metal—flooded my senses.
I was vaguely aware of movement around us, of the atmosphere becoming electrified. The scents of the Alphas intensified, filling the air with notes of desire and possession that made my head swim.
When Nitro finally released me, I found myself immediately turned by gentle but insistent hands until I was facing Xander. His dark eyes had gone nearly black; pupils expanded with unchecked need. Without a word, he captured my mouth with his. His kiss was different from Nitro's but no less devastating. His was controlled power rather than unbridled passion, a careful conquest that left me trembling.
Hands—I couldn't even tell who they belonged to anymore—stroked along my arms, my back, my sides. Kane's mouth found the sensitive spot where my neck met my shoulder, sending a shiver through my entire body. I heard myself make a sound I'd never made before, somewhere between a sigh and a moan.
"Beautiful," Fallon murmured from somewhere close, his voice gone husky. "You're absolutely beautiful, Lucy."
I turned from Xander toward the sound, and Fallon was there, his hard, chiseled features transformed by need and his grey-streaked hair tousled, strands falling over his forehead. His kiss was thorough, methodical, exploring my mouth as though mapping territory he intended to claim completely. I melted into him, my body responding with an intensity that would have frightened me, if it hadn't felt so freaking right.
Asher's laugh, low and wicked, drew my attention next. His eyes gleamed with mischief and heat as he rose from his position on the floor. "My turn," he said, his voice a dangerous purr that sent anticipation curling through my stomach.
His kiss tasted of rebellion and fire, playful yet demanding, nipping at my bottom lip in a way that drew another moan from deep in my throat. My hands found his shoulders, fingers digging into the hard muscle beneath his shirt. I wanted to keep kissing Asher. I wanted to burn for him so thoroughly that I was left a pile of ash.
