I clear my throat as my face heats up. “Sandra should eat,” I say, my voice rougher than usual. “She needs to keep her strength up. For the baby.” It’s a practical concern, a logical statement, but it also serves as a shield, a deflection.
Sandra reaches for her knight, moving it decisively across the board. “Checkmate.” She says it with a confident smile.
I stare at the board, momentarily stunned. I hadn’t even been paying attention to the game. I blink, then a slow smile spreads across my face. “Well played.”
Perhaps she’s a better fit with me than I thought she would be. It was clear she meshes well with the others, but I didn’t think we would ever connect beyond a mate bond. Now I see she is here for all of us.
False Security
Sandra
Two months can change everything.
I stand in front of the steamed mirror in the pack house’s massive nest bathroom, wiping a circle clear in the condensation. The reflection staring back belongs to someone else. The hollow, exhausted girl who ran barefoot through the snow no longer exists. A subtle flush colors my cheeks. My dark hair hangs heavy and glossy over my shoulders, no longer brittle from stress and malnutrition.
I tilt my head to the side, exposing the column of my neck. Two distinct, perfect sets of teeth marks bracket my throat, clean, silvery scars. I trace Ross’s and Caleb’s marks on either side, then reach back to press my fingertips against Jethro’s claim on my nape. A deep, settling warmth radiates from the center of my chest every time I touch them.
A flutter bumps against the inside of my lower stomach. I freeze, pressing both hands flat against my bare skin. I hold my breath, waiting. There it goes again. A steady pulse. Like the brush of butterfly wings against my ribs.
Tears prick the corners of my eyes. The movement feels nothing like the terrifying alien presence I feared two months ago. The life taking root inside me feels bright and warm. It feels like mine.Ours.
I turn away from the mirror. I pull on a thick, cream-colored knit sweater and a pair of soft black leggings. The fabric stretches over the small, distinct bump rounding out my stomach. Leaving the warmth of the bathroom, I pad barefoot down the carpeted hallway toward the stairs.
The rich aroma of dark-roast coffee and sizzling bacon fills the kitchen. My pack gathers around the massive marble island, a chaotic symphony of morning routines. Ross stands at the stove, flipping pancakes with practiced ease. Jethro sits at the head of the island, reviewing paperwork for his bar. Caleb taps away on a sleek tablet beside him. Oli nurses a mug of chamomile tea, his golden hair a messy halo around his head.
I step into the room, letting their combined scents of ginger, dates, smoke, and honeysuckle wash over me.
Another flutter hits my lower stomach, stronger this time.
I let out a gasp, freezing mid-step.
Oli snaps to attention, his green eyes darting to my face. He sets his mug down with a hard clack. “Sandra? What’s wrong? Are you hurting?”
I shake my head, a massive grin splitting my face. I close the distance between us, grabbing Oli’s wrist. I pull the thick hem of my sweater up, exposing my bare stomach, and press his palm flat against the warm skin right over the small bump. “Wait for it.”
Oli holds his breath, his eyes wide.
A distinct, rhythmic tap hits the center of his palm.
Oli’s jaw drops. His entire face lights up with a joy so pure it steals the breath from my lungs. “I felt it.” He looks up at Jethro, then over at Ross and Caleb. “I felt it. The baby just kicked.”
His honeysuckle scent blooms, filling the kitchen with bright, overwhelming excitement. Ross abandons the stove, Caleb drops his tablet, and Jethro pushes his paperwork aside. Within seconds, my Alphas surround us. They crowd close, resting massive, warm hands over my hips and bare stomach, bathing me in absolute devotion.
I let the moment settle, soaking in their love, before broaching the subject keeping me awake all night. “I want to walk down to the square today.” I keep my tone firm, meeting each of their stares. “On my own.”
Tension spikes the air, turning the scent of marshmallows charred and the ginger sharp. They hate the idea of letting me out of their sight. I understand their fear, but I refuse to live in a cage, even a gilded one.
“It’s been two months.” I cross my arms over my chest. “No signs of my father. No signs of Sergio’s men. Jethro, your perimeter checks come up clean every single day. I need to run an errand, and I need to do it by myself.”
Jethro’s jaw tightens. Ross scrubs a hand over his face, letting out a heavy sigh.
Caleb steps in before Jethro can issue a denial. He pushes his dark glasses up the bridge of his nose and digs into his pocket. He pulls out a small, silver pin shaped like an oak leaf and presses the cold metal into my palm.
“It’s a prototype GPS tracker.” Caleb holds my gaze, his brown eyes offering a compromise. “Tied to a private server I built in the basement. I need a field tester to see how it pings. Keep it in your pocket, and you get your solo walk.”
“Deal.” I pin it to my chest.
Before I can step away, Jethro catches my hip. He pulls me close, pressing a hard, possessive kiss to my mouth. The taste of dark roast coffee and smoke grounds me.
