I didn't think.
I grabbed his face and pulled his mouth to mine.
The kiss was desperate. Hungry. Weeks of tension and distance and wanting finally breaking free. He groaned againstmy lips, one hand fisting in my hair, the other pressed flat against my lower back, holding me so close I could feel his heartbeat against my chest.
When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard.
James laughed.
I turned to look at him, still half-draped in Cole's arms, expecting anger. But he was grinning—that sharp, knowing grin I'd come to love.
"Well," he said. "Welcome to the pack, I guess."
Cole blinked. "You just punched me."
"And I'll punch you again if you hurt her." James shrugged. "But the bond's done now. She chose you. That means you're ours whether I like it or not." He paused. "I'm reserving the right to still be pissed about the secrets, though."
"That's fair," Cole managed.
I was still trying to catch my breath. The bond pulled. Tight.
Something shifted inside me.
A warmth bloomed low in my belly. Not arousal, not exactly. Something deeper. More fundamental. Like a pilot light catching, a flame that had been waiting for the right moment to ignite.
I pressed my hand to my stomach, startled.
"Lumi?" Cole's eyes widened. "What is it?"
"I don't know. I feel—" I searched for the words. "Warm. Different."
His face went pale.
Chapter fifteen
Iwoke up wrong.
That was the only way to describe it. My eyes opened and the world was too much—too loud, too close. I squeezed them shut again and lay still, breathing slowly, waiting for my pulse to settle. When it finally did, I opened my eyes and sat up carefully.
And gasped.
The sheets against my skin felt like sandpaper. Not painful, exactly—just overwhelming. Every thread, every fiber, every tiny imperfection registered against my nerve endings like I’d never felt fabric before. I shoved the blanket away, but even the air brushing over my bare arms was too much.
"Lumi." Ivy was beside my bed now, her face creased with concern. "You don't look fine. You look like you're going to throw up."
"I'm not going to throw up." I swung my legs over the side of the mattress. The floor was cold against my feet—shockingly cold, like ice instead of wood. "I just need to—"
I stopped.
The smell hit me.
Ivy's shampoo. Lavender and something citrusy underneath. The coffee she'd been drinking—dark roast, slightly burnt. The detergent on her clothes. The faint musk of sleep still clinging to her skin. And underneath all of that, something deeper. Something that smelled like warmth and friendship.
I could smell everything.
"Lumi?" Ivy's voice was sharper now. "You're freaking me out. What's happening?"
"I don't know." I pressed my hands to my face. Tried to block out the assault of sensations. "Everything's just... more. Too much."
