"She'll come around," Drake says, and I feel the words like a slap. "She's got a big heart."
Translation:she's being a nightmare now, but she's really sweet inside, promise.
Ragon adds, "We expect you both to treat each other with respect. No competition. No games. Understood?"
"Yes, Alpha," Marie says, prompt and obedient.
My insides twist at the sound.
I back away before I have to hear more.
Back in the kitchen, I stir my cold tea and try not to sob. The house feels different already, like someone moved all the furniture in my absence. Like the center of gravity has shifted a few inches to the left and I'm constantly off-balance.
Footsteps approach a few minutes later. Drake appears, leaning in the doorway with that athletic grace of his.
"She's settling in," he says.
"Thrilled for her," I mutter.
He sighs. "Baby..."
"Don't," I say, fingers tightening around the mug. "Just don't. I did what you wanted. I helped decorate the shrine. I didn't bite her. I didn't even hiss. That's all you're getting from me today."
"She's scared too," Drake says softly. "She smells like it."
"She smells like a bakery exploded," I snap. "And you're all drooling over it."
"Vee," he protests. "We are not—"
"You're orbiting her," I say. "All three of you. Like she's got her own gravity."
He's quiet for a moment. "It's instinct. We're trying not to let it run the show, but it's loud."
"Louder than mine ever was?" I ask.
His scent cracks. "It's not a competition."
"It feels like one," I say. "And I'm losing. Ican’twin against biology. I don’t even have a chance."
Drake crosses the room in two strides and cups my face in his hands before I can dodge. His palms are warm, thumbs careful at my cheeks.
"Look at me," he says.
I don't want to. I do anyway.
His hazel eyes are earnest and wrecked. "You are not losing us. I swear to you, baby. I swear on every bond we don't have but should. You are not being replaced."
"Then why does it feel like I'm being erased?" I whisper.
He closes his eyes briefly, breathing through his nose. When he opens them again, they shine.
"Because we're doing this badly," Drake says. "Because this is hard and we're clumsy and we hurt you when we should have protected you first. I can't change that. I can only keep choosing you. Every day. Even when my instincts are screaming about jasmine-scented miracles."
The admission hurts. Helps. Both.
"I hate her," I say.
He gives a sad half-smile. "You hate what she represents."
