Chapter 38 #2
Harper reached for a washcloth, dipping it in the water before bringing it to my shoulder, wiping away the evidence of the past three days with gentle, careful strokes. There was nothing sexual about it—just comfort, just care—and I found myself tearing up at the tenderness of the gesture.
"Hey," he said softly, his free hand coming up to cup my cheek, thumb brushing away a tear I hadn't realized had fallen. His brow furrowed with concern. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." I shook my head, more tears spilling over. "Nothing's wrong. Everything's right. That's why I'm crying. Because this is... you're... all of you are..."
I couldn't finish. The emotions were too big, too overwhelming, and my post-heat brain couldn't find the words to contain them.
Harper didn't push. He just kept washing me, gentle and thorough, occasionally crooning low in his throat when I got too overwhelmed.
Silas came to sit on the floor beside the tub at some point, his hand finding mine and holding it while Harper worked.
By the time I was clean, I was half-asleep in the water, only rousing when Harper lifted me out and wrapped me in the biggest, softest towel I'd ever felt.
"Remy's going to lose his mind if that soup gets cold," Silas observed, his voice dry but his hand gentle as he steadied me.
"Then let's not keep him waiting," Harper said, carrying me back to the bedroom, where someone—probably Silas—had stripped the ruined sheets and replaced them with fresh ones.
The nest had been rebuilt, still messy but cleaner, and there was a tray of food waiting on the nightstand.
Remy was sitting on the edge of the bed, a bowl of soup in his hands, looking anxious in a way that was almost comical on the usually confident Alpha.
His knee bounced nervously, his amber eyes darting between me and the soup.
"I wasn't sure what you'd want," he said, offering me the bowl as Harper settled me against the pillows, his voice uncharacteristically uncertain. "But this always made me feel better when I was sick as a kid. Chicken and rice, nothing too heavy. There's bread too, if you want—"
"Remy." I took the bowl from him, curling my hands around its warmth, letting him see the gratitude in my eyes. "It's perfect. Thank you."
"Yeah?" he asked, his whole face lighting up, that bright grin making an appearance despite his exhaustion, relief washing visibly over his features.
"Yeah." I took a careful sip—it was rich and savory and exactly what my body was craving—and hummed in appreciation. "This is amazing. Your grandmother taught you this?"
"Mémère," he confirmed, settling beside me on the bed, close enough that his thigh pressed against mine through the towel, his body relaxing now that I'd accepted his offering.
"Said it could cure anything. Broken bones, broken hearts, bad grades.
" He paused, something vulnerable flickering across his face, his amber eyes going distant for a moment. "Bad heats."
I reached out with my free hand, finding his and squeezing, pulling him back to the present. "Well, she was right. This is definitely curing me."
I ate slowly, the three of them watching me with varying degrees of hovering concern. Harper sat at the head of the bed, letting me lean against him. Remy stayed pressed to my side, his hand on my thigh. Silas sat at the foot, his fingers tracing absent patterns on my ankle.
When the bowl was empty and the bread was gone, I felt more human than I had in days. Still exhausted, still sore, but no longer running on empty.
"Better?" Harper asked, his voice soft, his hand stroking through my still-damp hair.
"Better," I confirmed. Then, before I could lose my nerve: "I need to tell you something." All three of them went still. The atmosphere in the room shifted, tension crackling through the air.
"What is it, chere?" Remy asked, his voice careful, his amber eyes searching my face, his hand tightening slightly on my thigh. I took a breath. Then another. The words had been building in my chest since somewhere around day two, maybe earlier, and they needed to come out before I lost my nerve.
"I want to bond," I said. "With all of you.
All three of you. When I'm thinking clearly—and I am, right now, clearer than I've been in days—I want you to know that this is real.
That I'm not saying this because of the heat or the hormones or whatever else.
I'm saying it because I mean it. I want you. All of you. Forever."
Silence.
Three pairs of eyes stared at me—gray and amber and pale ice—and I watched emotions flicker across their faces. Hope. Longing. Caution. It was Harper who spoke first, his voice rough with barely contained emotion, his gray eyes glistening in a way I'd never seen outside of the heat. "Artemis—"
"I know what I said before the heat," I interrupted, needing to get this out.
"I know I said no bites, no bonding, wait until after.
And you did. You all did, even when I was begging for it.
Even when every instinct was screaming at you to claim me.
" I looked at each of them in turn, making sure they understood.
"That's how I know this is real. Because you respected my boundaries even when I couldn't respect them myself.
Because you put my wellbeing above your instincts. That's not something I take lightly."
"We wouldn't—" Silas started, then stopped, his jaw working, his pale eyes blazing with something fierce and protective.
"I know," I said softly. "I know you wouldn't. That's the point. That's why I want this. Because I trust you. All of you. More than I've ever trusted anyone."
Remy made a sound—half laugh, half sob—and pressed his face against my shoulder. I could feel the dampness of tears against my skin, could feel his body shaking with the force of his emotions.
"We need to wait," Harper said, and the words sounded like they were being dragged out of him by force, every syllable costing him something.
His hand came up to cup my face, tilting it toward him, his gray eyes intense and full of emotion.
"Not because we don't want this—god, Artemis, we want this more than you can possibly know.
But you've just come out of a heat. Your hormones are still settling. We need to make sure—"
"I'm sure," I said.
"Then you'll still be sure in a week," he countered gently, his thumb stroking my cheekbone with heartbreaking tenderness.
"Or two weeks. Or a month. However long it takes for you to feel like yourself again.
When you ask us again—because I know you will—we'll say yes.
We'll say yes so fast your head will spin.
" His voice dropped to something raw and honest, cracking on the words.
"But I need you to be certain. I couldn't live with myself if we bonded and you regretted it. If you felt like we took advantage—"
"You could never—"
"Let us do this right," he said, cutting me off gently, his forehead pressing against mine. "Please. Let us earn it."
I looked at Remy, who nodded against my shoulder, his eyes wet but determined when he lifted his head.
At Silas, whose jaw was tight but whose hand on my ankle was trembling with barely suppressed emotion.
They were right. I knew they were right.
Even if every fiber of my being was screaming that I'd never been more sure of anything in my life, they deserved to hear me say it when there was no possible doubt.
"Okay," I whispered. "Okay. But I'm going to ask you again. Soon."
"We're counting on it," Remy said, his voice thick with tears and hope, his smile wobbly but genuine. "Might actually die if you don't, chere."
"Dramatic," Silas muttered, but his voice was rough too, betraying the emotion beneath his stoic exterior.
I leaned forward, reaching for Harper first—the Head Alpha, the one who'd been there from the beginning.
My lips brushed against his throat, right over his pulse point, right where a bonding bite would go.
He shuddered, a low groan escaping him, his hands fisting in the sheets so hard his knuckles went white.
"Soon," I promised against his skin. Then I turned to Remy, pressing the same almost-kiss to his throat. He made a sound like a wounded animal, his hands flying to my hips, holding me steady even as his whole body trembled, his breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps.
"Soon, chere," he echoed, his voice breaking on the words. "Soon."
Finally, Silas. He held perfectly still as I leaned toward him, only his eyes moving, tracking my approach with an intensity that made my skin prickle. When my lips touched his throat, he inhaled sharply, his scarred fingers coming up to tangle in my hair, his whole body going rigid with restraint.
"Soon," I whispered against his pulse.
"Soon," he agreed, his voice barely audible, raw with want and promise. I pulled back, looking at my three Alphas, and felt a peace settle over me that had nothing to do with the fading heat hormones. This was real. This was right. This was where I was always supposed to end up.
A scrabbling sound from the doorway made all of us turn. Gumbo had apparently decided the coast was clear, because he was making his way into the bedroom, his massive body taking up most of the floor space as he approached the bed.
"Um," Remy said, eyeing the approaching alligator with understandable concern, his body tensing beside me. "Is he—"
Gumbo reached the side of the bed and stopped, lifting his huge head to fix me with those yellow eyes. Then, with the grace of a creature who had been doing this for longer than any of us had been alive, he settled onto the floor beside the nest, his tail curling around to block the doorway.
Guarding. Protecting. Accepting.
He turned his head to look at each of the Alphas in turn—Harper, then Remy, then Silas—and made a low rumbling sound that I recognized as grudging approval.
"I think he's decided you can stay," I translated, a smile tugging at my lips.
"Generous of him," Silas said dryly, though I caught him eyeing Gumbo with something that might have been respect.
Gumbo's response was to yawn, displaying all sixty-some teeth in what was either a warning or a welcome.
With Gumbo, it was hard to tell the difference.
I laughed, exhaustion finally catching up with me, and let myself sink back against the pillows.
Harper adjusted around me, pulling me against his chest. Remy curled up on one side, his head on my shoulder.
Silas took the other, his hand finding mine again.
Surrounded by warmth and safety and the steady heartbeats of the men I loved, I finally let myself rest. Gumbo rumbled once from his spot on the floor—a sound of contentment, of completion—and I smiled against Harper's chest.
We weren't bonded yet. Not officially. But lying there in that rebuilt nest, with three Alphas wrapped around me and a nine-foot alligator guarding the door, I knew it was only a matter of time.
Soon.
For now, I closed my eyes and let sleep pull me under, dreaming of forever.