Chapter 46
forty-six
CILLIAN
Dane changed the name of this chat to The Blackwood Beasts
Rhys
That’s fair.
Cillian
Well-deserved.
Rhys
Wait
Rhys changed the name of this chat to Briar’s Beasts.
Dane
I stand corrected.
The Blackwood crest stares back at me as I plant my bare feet against the cold floor of my study.
Bracing my way through one more breath.
Another minute. Another second, even.
It’s nearly impossible.
But Briar asked for some time to herself tonight. And now that the neutralizers have finally worn off, I had no good reason to deny her.
None of us could think of one, damn it. Not even Rhys.
He may be the only alpha alive who’s more miserable than me.
I might have to grapple with the uncertainty of not knowing if our mate will ever fully forgive me, but at least she’s accepted our match, to some degree.
I’m not sure if she’s even given my former stepbrother the time of day—and she didn’t invite him all the way into her nest, even after he scrounged up five different types of takeout at ten a.m.
She did let him sit on the threshold, though. I suspect more out of deference to her Omega than anything else.
Although she did hand him one of her pillows before she banished all of us from her suite, earlier, so perhaps she has a little sympathy.
My fingers twitch around the crystal glass. My ears prick half a second before a sound that might be a whine stops me cold.
There isn’t a moment when I consider what to do or how much control to exert—I just move. Stalking across my study and throwing open the door to find—
Dane?
Even with his mask on, he looks guilty. Cringing as he raises the hand outstretched toward Briar’s door handle to his shoulder in a jerky twitch. The panic darting through his eyes is new, too. I’ve seen the guy walk into a hail of bullets and I don’t think he came close to looking this nervous.
“I was just…”
Sneaking into her room.
To fuck her? Or watch her sleep?
Jesus, which is worse?
My brow rises. “Do you… do this often?”
Dane straightens,his woody scent smoldering while his cheeks turn pink around the edges of his mask. “Only—”
A rustle interrupts us. We both turn, our eyes bulging when we catch Rhys strolling down the hallway. Holding Briar’s pillow.
And where the hell did he find a sleeping bag?
For fuck’s sake.
Is he going to camp in the hallway?
He stops short, scowling as he glances between us, down at our empty hands, then at the dark pink cushion wedged between his tattooed arm and his black tank top. With a shrug, he mutters, “At least I was realistic about it.”
Dane’s shoulders slump on a rough exhale. “I don’t stay the night in there without her permission. I just like to check on her.” He casts me some grumbly side-eye. “What’s your excuse?”
I stand taller, nodding at the doors. “I heard a whine.”
Rhys snorts, shoving a hand through his unruly white-blond hair. “Oh yeah, sure.”
I open my mouth to argue, but fuck. Am I sure I heard her? Or did I just want to?
It doesn’t matter, because the next voice we hear is our omega’s—dry and full of resigned exhaustion.
“Will you jackasses just come in?” she sighs. “Or none of us will ever get to sleep.”
My wife is waiting with all of her lights off, lying in the middle of her mattress, glaring at the ceiling.
Fucking hell, she’s adorable. And sexy as sin, in that pewter-gray nightgown, with my lock still tethered around her neck.
I want to sling her over my shoulder like a caveman and cart her to my bedroom.
Show her all the things I have for us to explore together in there.
Including many suitable punishments for a pouting bride.
Her arms are crossed over her chest. They rise and fall on another dramatic sigh. “Would it kill you guys to knock like normal people?”
Beside me, Rhys actually winces. “Sorry, omega. I’ll knock next time.”
Briar narrows her eyes, tossing him a vicious scowl. “Oh now you’re nice?” He opens his mouth, but she keeps going. “Honestly, all of you are insane. And mean. And presumptuous and somehow too smart and clueless and—”
She huffs out another breath. My palms tingle at my sides, my cock kicking higher in my sweats.
It seems the time alone helped her process some of her anger… and come up with a lot more of it. Honestly, she would probably feel better after a spanking. Or a long edging session.
Something tells me this isn’t the right time to suggest that, though.
With another pissy grunt, she jerks her chin back toward the ceiling and reaches left, flipping her covers open.
“Well, get in,” she hisses. “Christ.”
None of us need a second invitation. Dane stomps to the other side of her bed, hovering there as Rhys slides around me and makes his way to the foot. I stride for the opening she offered, sitting on the mattress and suppressing a smirk when I see her pouty features up close.
Like I said, adorable.
“Hello, Mrs. Blackwood,” I murmur, bending to kiss her cheek. “May I have this spot?”
Briar glares overhead for another few moments, then finally blows out a long exhale, her body sagging. When she speaks again, her voice is soft with embarrassment. “No,” she says. “Rhys needs it tonight.”
I’m thrown for a second, but when I see the stark awe filling Rhys’s face, something in my center clicks.
This is our mate—the omega destined to be the perfect center for our pack. Of course she can sense which of us needs her the most.
The fact that she knows doesn’t surprise me, but the fact that she cares is shocking. I see the hurt wariness in her gaze when it leaps to my stepbrother. Not to mention the way both of their scents shift—his soaring and hers darkening.
He does need this.
And it’s costing her.
The instinct to protect wars with my desire for pack cohesion. I want us all to have what we need, but not at her expense. Never again.
I start to protest, opening my mouth to issue a low, smooth bark—but Rhys backs up, swallowing so hard I hear it.
“N-no, viper,” he whispers. “You don’t have to do that.”
The last of her aggression falls away, leaving a distinctly vulnerable look in her green depths. “Yeah,” she sighs, “but your head hurts when you fight your Alpha. And this helped before… right?”
His sigh audibly quivers. “Briar, seriously. You don’t owe me anything.”
Dane sits beside her, his hand finding her hair. “He’s right, moonbeam. You can kick us out now. And I’ll get you a deadbolt for your door tomorrow. You don’t have to let us in here ever—”
Her whine is unmistakable this time. I fall to my knees at her bedside as Dane starts to purr. Briar blinks toward his chest, her eyes glimmering as emotion fills her voice. “I don’t know what I’m doing, okay?” she admits. “But I feel really lonely in here by myself at night.”
Devastation crumples my insides. Pain fills Rhys’s features as Briar lifts her wet eyes to his. “Please, Rhys?”
He practically dives, spearing into place at her side as though it would take the jaws of life to hold him back. “I’m here, pretty baby,” he croons. “You’ll never have to ask me again. I’ll be here every night for as long as you’ll have me.”
Briar’s lower lip wobbles while she stares up at his face. “Even if I try to stab you again?”
Rhys’s mouth curves. “Especially then, viper.”
Her happy scent is mind-melting. Tart and sweet, a mouthwatering combination that makes me dizzy as I hide another smile, hefting myself off my knees and nudging my packmate. “Move over.”
Rhys easily shifts them to the middle of the mattress, giving Dane and me room to climb in. I chose this Alaskan king, hoping we’d need all the space one day—and now we’re here. The tension in my middle eases while we settle.
Dane rolls onto his side, slipping his arm under Briar’s pillow and letting her snuggle close, with her head resting in the crook of his shoulder. She opens her own arms for Rhys, who stays true to his word and accepts her silent offer without pause.
Once he has his cheek on her chest, I see Briar’s point. The way his entire body relaxes while her hands roam his back… He does need this. Her.
And she cares, despite all the reasons we gave her not to bother.
Rhys passes out first, forehead resting below her collarbone and his mouth slightly ajar. Dane’s purrs eventually fade into soft snores. Briar closes her eyes, but I can practically feel her thinking too hard.
When she glances over and finds me staring, I let my hand rest on top of her head, carefully sifting through her dark hair. Projecting the soul-deep gratitude I feel for her.
Thank you, omega.
I swear she hears me, even though our souls aren’t linked.
Not yet, I tell my Alpha as he projects a wave of solid, soothing power for her. Soon.
My omega eventually tilts her head into my touch. She loves having her scalp massaged—and I love anything that puts this dreamy look on her face.
When I don’t let up, she protests sleepily, “You must be tired. You don’t have to keep going…”
I smile wider, satisfaction pouring through me. “You take care of them,” I tell her. “I’ll take care of you. That’s how this works, omega.”
Her creamy, unmarked throat works over a swallow. My canines ache along with my knot, the latter twitching fuller when she bites her lower lip and asks, “Are—are we still going to do our special nights this week? You and me? And each of the guys?”
She still wants us to come to her? To be with her?
I rub at her scalp with more insistence, purring louder. “You can have as many special nights as you want, Mrs. Blackwood.”