Chapter 83 Willow
Willow
By the time the plates are cleared, I’m full in a way that has nothing to do with food.
Landon insisted on doing the dishes—“Kitchen law. Cooks don’t clean.
” Carson loudly disagreed, so now the two of them are shoulder-to-shoulder at the sink, flicking suds at each other while they work.
Finn leans against the counter, sketchbook open, capturing the moment with quick, precise strokes, pausing only to smirk at their antics.
Hunter stretches, runs a hand down my arm, and murmurs in my ear, “Come on, princess. Couch.”
I let him lead me, my feet dragging slightly because I’m so warm and heavy-limbed. The living room glows with soft lamplight. The faint smell of tomato and garlic clings to the air, mixing with their musks, and it feels like home in a way that makes my chest ache.
Graham is already on the couch, one broad arm thrown across the back, waiting for me.
I crawl into the space between him and Hunter without hesitation.
Graham’s arm folds around me instantly, warm and heavy, pulling me in until my back rests against his chest and his chin settles on the top of my head.
“You smell happy,” he rumbles, and I can feel the vibration in my spine.
“I am happy,” I whisper.
Carson and Landon join us a moment later, the sound of running water shutting off in the kitchen.
Carson flops down on the other side of Hunter and immediately drags my legs into his lap.
He starts rubbing my calves absentmindedly, thumbs pressing in small, soothing circles that make me want to melt into a puddle.
Landon, still a little damp from the sink, crouches in front of me, hands braced on my knees. “Comfortable?”
I nod, and he leans in and kisses my cheek, his lips lingering.
Then Finn arrives last, sketchbook under his arm. He hesitates, calculating the safest place to fit, and before I can even gesture, Hunter reaches out, grabs his wrist, and hauls him down onto the pile of bodies. Finn lands half on Carson, half against me, and laughs under his breath.
“This feels dangerous,” he murmurs, but he doesn’t move away.
“Shh,” Carson says. “You’re part of the pack now. Couch tax is mandatory.”
Finn laughs softly and lets himself sink in. Hunter tilts his head, studying Finn for a long moment, then leans in and kisses the curve of his jaw. Finn’s eyes flutter shut, and I swear the room hums with happiness for a few minutes.
“You’re a menace with a knife,” Carson says, breaking the silence, pointing a chip at Landon. “I had to rescue that poor bell pepper from your abuse.”
Landon rolls his eyes, leaning against the arm of the couch. “They tasted fine, didn’t they?”
“They tasted rescued,” Carson deadpans.
Finn has pulled out his sketch book and is sketching, his shoulder against Carson’s chest, knees up, pencil moving quickly over the page. He hasn’t even looked up as he says, “For the record, I’d trust Landon with a knife before Carson. Carson gets distracted.”
“Excuse me?” Carson squawks. “I was multitasking!”
“Drooling over Willow while chopping onions isn’t multitasking,” Finn replies, serene as ever.
Hunter barks out a laugh and reaches over to tilt Finn’s chin toward him. “You’re trouble, you know that?”
Finn’s lips curve into a wicked smile, and Hunter kisses him as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. My heart trips over itself. God, I love watching them soften for each other.
Landon’s gaze flicks to me, a hint of awe in his eyes. He’s still half apart from us, half in. He kneels in front of the couch like he isn’t sure he belongs in the warm pile of limbs and affection.
Graham notices before I can say anything. He makes a soft sound in his chest and jerks his chin. “Don’t hover, man. You’re pack. Get up here.”
Landon hesitates, then Carson reaches out without even looking and hooks two fingers in the belt loop of his jeans, tugging him in. “Couch tax,” he says. “Payment is proximity.”
Hunter leans back to make space, and suddenly Landon is between me and Carson, the heat of him pressed along my legs. Carson’s foot hooks around his ankle, grounding him there, and Finn shifts just enough to rest a shoulder against him in silent welcome.
It takes maybe two seconds for the tension to bleed out of him. He exhales, long and slow, and his hand finds mine, fingers tangling as if he’s afraid I might let go.
“See?” I murmur, grinning up at him. “You fit.”
He gives me that boyish grin that used to undo me, only now it’s gentler. “Yeah,” he whispers, almost to himself. “I do.”
The six of us become one warm, tangled sprawl.
Graham’s chest is my pillow. Carson keeps massaging my calves.
Landon’s hand rests on my knee, thumb tracing slow, unconscious circles.
Hunter’s fingers thread lazily through my damp hair.
Finn lets out a long, soft sigh and drops his head against Carson’s shoulder.
The quiet stretches. The TV is on low, some random cooking show no one is watching. The only sounds are steady breaths and the occasional clink of Carson stealing a piece of leftover bread from the coffee table.
“This feels…” I start, but my voice wobbles.
“Right?” Landon finishes softly.
I nod, swallowing past the lump in my throat. “Right. Like… like home.”
Graham presses a kiss to the top of my head. Hunter hums in agreement. Landon’s hand slides a little higher on my leg, gentle but possessive.
“Get used to it,” he says, and there’s a smile in his voice.
I sink back into the cushions completely surrounded.
Graham’s solid heat at my right, his arm draped behind me, a wall I can lean on.
Landon to my left, thumb tracing lazy circles on my thigh, still memorizing that I’m real.
Carson is pressed in beside him, his knee touching Landon’s, grin crooked and full of mischief.
Finn is next to Carson, sketchbook abandoned somewhere on the coffee table, his fingers tapping restlessly against his thigh.
Hunter’s on the end, closest to the armrest, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, watching me with soft, predatory eyes.
All five of them. My world. My pack.
My chest swells until I can’t keep it in anymore. I shift, tucking my feet under me and turning so I can see all of them at once. My pulse thrums with certainty and want. “I don’t want to wait anymore,” I say softly.
Graham tilts his head. “Wait for what, baby girl?”
“For this to feel official,” I whisper. My gaze drifts to Landon first. “I want everyone to know you’re mine.” Then to Finn. “That you’re mine too. Not just in our hearts, but in a way no one else can ever touch. I want you to bite me.”
Finn’s breath hitches, and Landon swallows hard.
“I already have claim marks from Graham, Carson, and Hunter,” I say, heart pounding. “But tonight…I want to mark all five of you. If you’ll let me.”
The room goes still.
Carson exhales as if he’s been holding it in for days, grin widening. “Peaches, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”
Hunter’s voice is low and rough. “Are you sure?”
“Completely,” I say, voice trembling with excitement. “I want you—all of you—to be mine.”
Landon leans in first, his lips brushing my ear, his voice a low growl that slides down my spine. “Wherever you want me,” he murmurs. “I’m yours.”
My chest tightens, heat curling low in my belly. I kiss him first, tasting warmth and home, and his musk wraps around me, curling into my lungs. My pheromones spill free, sweet and sharp, telling all of them exactly what I want.
“Let’s go to my nest,” I whisper against his mouth. Then I pull back and spring to my feet, a giddy laugh spilling out of me as I bolt down the hall.
Behind me, there’s a tangle of footsteps and muffled curses as they scramble after me.
I throw my door open, heart hammering, and step into the safe cocoon of my nest. My fingers are clumsy, desperate, as I strip every scrap of clothing away.
By the time they fill the doorway, I’m already flushed and trembling, bare skin prickling in anticipation.
“I’m ready.”
The words barely leave my lips before Landon growls—deep, raw, pure alpha—and stalks toward me. His eyes are molten, hungry, the look of a man who’s been starved for me and can’t wait another second. I shiver under the weight of his attention, my breath coming fast.
Finn moves in beside him, all fluid lines and calculated grace, his blue eyes drinking me in. When he reaches me first, his mouth claims mine, soft and sure, stealing the air from my lungs.
Landon’s lips find my neck, hot and demanding, and my knees almost give out.
Other hands join in, firm, possessive, worshipping, trailing heat over my hips, my breasts, my thighs.
I could name them if I tried; Graham’s steady touch, Carson’s teasing brush, Hunter’s grounding grip—but with my eyes closed and pleasure blooming bright and hot, it doesn’t matter. They’re all mine. I’m all theirs.
They guide me down into the plush nest of blankets and pillows, and I sink into it with a whimper.
Someone—Carson, I realize when he groans against me—slides between my legs, his mouth closing over my slick, and sparks explode behind my eyelids.
My back arches, my fingers claw at the cushions, and helpless moans tumble out of me.
Finn’s mouth is at my throat, kissing, nipping, claiming in his own way. I tangle my fingers in his hair, tugging him closer, and his low growl vibrates against my skin.
“Mark me,” I pant, the words half a plea, half a command.
He freezes for only a heartbeat, then his teeth sink into the soft curve of my neck. Pleasure detonates through me, sharp and electric, and I cry out, my body clenching as another orgasm crashes over me.
“Landon,” I gasp, my hand flying to the back of his neck to pull him close, my voice wrecked and desperate. “Bite me. This time’s forever.”