Bitter Truths (Bittersweet Bonds #1)

1. Bianca

BIANCA

It’s my eighteenth birthday. Finally.

I tug my cover-up lower as I follow the trail to the waterhole. The fabric clings to my legs in the humidity, every step making me more aware of how exposed I’ll be soon. Sunlight flickers through the trees, warm and soft.

Clara handled Winston like a pro. I owe her. There was no way I was letting my brother tag along today. He’d ruin everything.

I love him. I do. But Winston guards my innocence like it’s some kind of national treasure.

He means well, but it often feels like a cage…

especially when his friends are around. His hot, unmated alpha friends, who I’ve been obsessed with forever and happen to be my scent matches. Unbeknownst to them.

Their voices float over the water, low and sharp.

“This is bullshit,” Owen says, sounding tense. “We can’t let them control ou?—”

“Quiet,” Weller snaps. “Bianca and Winston are due any minute.”

“We need leverage,” Tristan adds. “Our fathers don’t negotiate.”

I freeze mid-step. What the hell are they talking about?

A twig snaps under my foot.

Four heads turn. Four intense pairs of eyes lock on me.

Freddie’s grin breaks across his face like a sunrise, all teeth and warmth. Sin wrapped in gold. His green eyes glitter with mischief. Golden brown curls catch the light, wild and sweet. Then his scent hits me—honey and cedar… familiar and safe.

Owen looks at me like he’s starving. I’m convinced Weller is keeping him on a tight leash because I sense he’s had some naughty thoughts of his own.

His dark eyes pin me where I stand. Blackcurrant and spice roll off him.

His shirt is already gone—displaying a body shaped by fights and real danger, not just the gym.

Tristan rights himself like a startled cat, blond waves tumbling across his forehead.

His gaze cuts across the water, narrowing as if zeroing in on prey.

God, his body is unfair… so lean and powerful.

My mouth waters. Burnt amber, fig leaf, and something darker reach me a beat later.

Rich and a little cruel. I want to drown in it. In him.

Weller’s book snaps shut. I flinch at the sound. His eyes linger on me, slow, as if studying me to review later. He’s only twenty, but he carries himself like someone older… like he knows things the rest of us don’t. Teakwood hits first, then bergamot. His scent is demanding. Sharp. Delicious.

The mixture of their scents threatens to pull me under.

And I’d be more than happy to drown.

Oh god.

My lungs forget how to work.

All four of them are watching me now.

“There’s our birthday girl,” Freddie announces, his green eyes glittering with mischief.

My lips tilt up at the edges, even though the frantic thumping of my heart feels like it might break my ribs. I’ll deal with their strange conversation later.

“Hey, guys.”

Owen sprawls across a sun-warmed rock like he owns it.

“We thought you bailed, Princess,” he murmurs, his voice a sexy rasp, his dark eyes fixed on me like a predator assessing prey.

“Winston’s busy. Clara needed his help.”

“No Winston? That might be the best gift you get today, sweetheart,” Tristan drawls, a slight smile touching his full lips.

“So. Just us, then,” Weller states, his eyes dragging over me in a slow, thorough assessment.

“Just us.” The words come out softer than I intended.

Freddie stands up, practically bouncing. His scent floods the space between us, and I have to curl my fingers into my palms to resist leaning in.

“Food first,” he says, setting up the pizza boxes. “Then your gift.”

“You didn’t have to do all this.”

The look on their faces suggests they did.

I’ve known they were mine since I was thirteen. It started with Weller. He was driving me home one day, and his scent hit me like a bus. I remember digging my nails into the leather seat and biting my cheek hard enough to bleed.

Then came Freddie. Tristan. Owen.

As each one awakened, it became harder to hide my attraction. But my body remained silent, offering no proof—just the stench of my desperation.

Despite my body’s refusal to cooperate, there’s no denying they are one hundred percent mine. Fear kept me from saying anything. What if they didn’t feel the same? What if they rejected me?

Owen shifts beside me. His knee bumps mine, and the contact lights up my skin.

“You good?”

“Just thinking.” The words come out tiny, like a field mouse squeaking before hawks.

Freddie finishes his fourth slice of pizza and digs into a bag. He pulls out a vanilla cupcake with a pink candle already stuck in the top. He lights it and holds it out to me.

“Make a wish, Bumblebee,” he urges, dimples appearing as his smile widens.

I look at all four of them and wish for the same thing I’ve wished a hundred times: that they’d see me. Really see me. Not as Winston’s untouchable sister or a tagalong, but as theirs. Their omega. Their mate. Their entire world—like they are to me.

I blow out the candle.

Before I can say anything, Freddie swipes his finger through the frosting and licks it off with a grin.

Owen nudges me. “Good wish?”

“Best one yet.”

“Now for your present.” Tristan’s silky tone captures everyone’s attention as he pulls out a tiny velvet box and presents it to me.

“Oh my god.”

“This is from all of us.”

My hands won’t cooperate to open it without making me feel awkward. Inside is a gold necklace with a dainty bee charm.

“Because you’re our little bumblebee,” Freddie adds, as his knuckle grazes my arm.

“Sweet as honey,” Tristan murmurs.

“With a sting when provoked,” Owen finishes, tousling my hair and resting his hand at my nape.

“Fitting,” Weller says as if he approves of the assessment.

I swallow hard, blinking quickly to clear my vision.

“I love it. Thank you.”

Weller steps forward and lifts the necklace from the box.

“May I?” he asks, his voice dropping to a lower register.

I nod, fingers trembling as I lift my hair. The chain glides against my skin, and goosebumps erupt. Tiny points of betrayal reveal how much they affect me even with the lightest touch.

His breath breezes past my ear, and his fingers linger against me a moment longer than necessary. Disappointment flares within me when he moves away.

The charm settles over my collarbone, and I press down on it with my fingers.

They’ve marked me.

“Perfect.” Weller’s approval resonates in a single word.

The others murmur their agreement.

It’s time to test these boundaries.

“Who is ready to go swimming?

I rise to my feet in one motion, brushing crumbs from my legs. My fingers find the hem of my cover-up, and I hesitate for only half a second before pulling it off. The fabric slides over my skin and puddles at my feet.

The silence becomes thick and charged.

Just the reaction I hoped for. The pink bikini I ordered online hardly qualifies as swimwear. It clings too snugly and reveals too much. I’ve never let them see me like this. Not even close.

Freddie chokes. His eyes roam down my body before snapping back up. His ears are bright red.

“Jesus Christ.”

Heat flares under my skin, from my face all the way down, leaving me flushed and breathless from their attention.

Owen doesn’t speak, but he doesn’t hide the raw desire darkening his eyes, sending a shiver down my spine.

Tristan lifts an eyebrow, lips curling into a smirk. “Eighteen for five minutes and already stirring up trouble,” he drawls. “How perfectly you, little bee.”

Even Weller’s mask cracks. His mouth tenses, and his hands curl and then relax. He says nothing, but his gaze moves over me with slow, thorough attention.

My body is on fire.

“Like it?”

“Definitely your color.” Tristan is the first to respond. “It suits you.”

Owen rumbles low, almost a growl. “It certainly suits... parts of you.”

Freddie elbows him with a scowl.

Weller exhales. “What our friend means to say is that you look lovely, Bianca.”

Freddie nods, flustered.

I laugh, releasing the tension.

“The last one in washes everyone’s cars for a month!” Freddie yells and launches himself off the rock.

Owen can’t resist a challenge and dives in.

Tristan peels off his shirt, sauntering to the edge. “Try to keep up, birthday girl,” he tosses it over his shoulder before slipping under.

I glance back at Weller. “You coming?”

He leans back, one arm propped behind him. “I think I’ll enjoy the view for now.”

I feel feverish. I plunge into the water to escape. The cold against my overheated skin is shocking.

By the time the sun lowers in the sky, my limbs feel loose and heavy from swimming, splashing, and laughing. The rock beneath me is warm against my back, soaking into my skin as I stretch out and catch my breath.

Above me, tree branches kaleidoscope the sky in blue, green, and gold. My wet hair clings to my neck. My bikini sticks in all the wrong places. I shift and sigh, both content and restless.

This is my moment. I sit up and spot the empty soda bottle near the scattered food wrappers. I grip the glass bottle and shift to my knees, acutely aware of their attention.

“Who’s up for a game?”

Tristan leans back on his elbows, watching me as if I just lit a match in a dry field.

“What kind of game?”

My fingers tighten around the bottle. The sun casts ribbons of light across the stone, and I feel every pair of eyes lock on me. My skin prickles.

I try to sound casual, but it comes out higher than I’d like. “It’s called It’s My 18th Birthday and I’ve Never Been Kissed .”

A beat of silence follows.

Freddie makes a strangled sound. “Wait. Never?”

Owen blinks, stunned. Tristan whistles low, amused. Weller remains still.

I bite my lower lip, noting how their eyes follow the movement. “Nope. Not once.”

“Winston cannot be that good at scaring off every guy. I mean, he’s good, but...” Freddie mutters.

I interrupt him with a raised eyebrow.