Mine.
Mine.
Mine.
The lycan venom shrieked in protest, thrashing, trying to drown the feeling in violence, but Griff’s bite anchored me for the briefest of moments. He lifted his head, blood at the corner of his mouth, his eyes locked on mine with a fierce, broken kind of relief.
“Elias was the first. I’m the second,” he said hoarsely.
I couldn’t speak. I could only breathe, shaking, as the fire in my veins shifted again. I still burned, but the fire was no longer directionless.
Someone else moved in.
It was Nox.
I didn’t need to see him to know. I could feel him. He hovered over my other side, his fingers brushing my jaw to tilt my face just enough.
“Look at me,” he said quietly.
I tried. My eyes found his through the blur. There was no softness there. No hesitation.
Only devotion sharpened into a weapon.
“Whatever you need,” he murmured. “I’m here for you.”
Then he bit me too.
Not on the throat, but lower, at the junction of my shoulder and neck. Pain flashed, and this time my body shuddered.
The wolf in me surged again, hungry for the mate bond like it was oxygen.
The lycan venom lunged, furious.
For a second, my vision went black at the edges.
“Three,” I heard someone say, maybe Griff again, maybe Nox. I wasn’t sure.
Hands held me down as my body bucked.
Bishop was next.
I knew before he touched me. His presence was calming, like a hymn whispered into the screaming chaos. He lifted my wrist and pressed his mouth to the inside of it in a gentle kiss that made my throat tighten.
“You’re sure?” he whispered, voice rougher than I’d ever heard it.
I managed a single jerking nod.
“Yes,” I rasped.
His teeth sank in.
Hot pain at my pulse point, and then a rush oforder.
The fire inside me wavered, startled, as if it had expected only violence and found discipline instead.
“And me fourth,” Bishop breathed, and his mouth lingered for one impossible second, like he hated pulling away from me.
Eamon came last.
