Chapter 38
thirty-eight
brIAR
The spice hits me first.
Warm enough to fight the shiver under my rain-soaked skin. But smooth in a way spice normally isn’t. Cloves, blended with a thousand tiny nuances that make it perfect.
Fog fills my mind. Or maybe that’s smoke—thick and sweet. Clouding every other sense. Powerful and intoxicating. As only a pack alpha could ever be.
Cillian.
His eyes are focused lasers, beaming into mine. Icy blue snaps with ferocious fire, the white-hot flames licking through his irises while his essence melts every muscle in my core. Slick douses my thighs and he growls, the heavenly spices heating as they roll over me.
That undertone furls into another gust of wind, blurring into the second scent so seamlessly, it takes me a moment to separate them.
This one is immediately familiar. A wooden musk. Refreshing but deep, with an earthen quality that somehow grounds me and sends me reeling all at once.
Dane.
He’s oak and rain.
Not the terrifying, fury-filled kind like the clouds swirling over us. But something gentle and nourishing—a soft patter on a bed of moss. Green things blooming in the dark. Fragrant soil and air that’s been washed clean. Petrichor.
I drag deep gulps of the refreshing essence into my body, praying it will soothe the burn smoldering between my hips. Instead, it kicks the raging need higher and leaves my tongue tingling. Begging for something to cool and bring clarity.
As if conjured from my need, eucalyptus weaves into the wet air. Cold and sharp, it sends shivery shudders into my limbs, prickling each and every nerve.
Is it—
My vision lags as I search for white-blond through the rain. When I find him, he’s a ghost. Or maybe a statue, forever frozen on his knees.
Rhys.
Those haunting eyes catch on mine. Chills erupt under my skin as his scent climbs higher and curls into my lungs, colliding with clove, smoke, and warm wood.
I feel myself start to drift, the gardens tilting around me. A blur of red and white, bleeding into lush green. Leaves. Thorns. Melting into the night. Melding with the dark truth that expands inside my soul.
Mates.
My body reacts. Sparks ignite in my belly. My nipples harden as slick and perfume pour from my pussy.
The two alphas closest to me practically rend the air with their snarls. A second later, a quieter, dismayed voice hisses, “Holy shit.”
Yeah. My sentiments exactly.
I try to speak. Demand answers. Tell the alpha holding me to let me go or never let me go or—or—
My mouth feels disconnected from my body. And all I hear inside, apart from the sudden rush of blood in my ears, is my Omega. Apologizing.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I tried to stop. I tried.
I feel the futility of that statement. And I know, in the same deep, dark place, that arguing with her is pointless. She has no more control over this than I do.
No more than the horror-struck alpha on his knees who falls forward, letting his palms scrape the soaked gravel. Or the enormous masked man panting hard enough to form clouds of condensation with every exhale.
Wild gold eyes snap to the juncture of my thighs, as if he can see the heat pulsing there. Hell, maybe he can. That might make sense, considering the only part of him my mind catalogs is the erection tenting his black pants.
And his liquid eyes.
“Omega.” The word is a growl. “Are you—”
I don’t know what he’s asking, but it wouldn’t matter if I did; I have no answers. No coherent thoughts. I have nothing tying me to this earth other than them. Their glowing eyes and overpowering scents and the pit of flames expanding where my lungs used to be.
The terrifying storm swirls above us. Between us. Inside me. Washing away every rational thought. Leaving the only truth I have left:
These monsters are my mates.
And I want them.