20. Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty
Emma
I wake slowly, consciousness returning in layers.
I’m in a room. The walls are painted a soft seafoam green.
A white dresser holds a collection of sea glass in a crystal bowl.
Everything feels intentionally calming, designed to soothe.
This room is beautiful. Perfect, even. Gauzy white curtains flutter at tall windows, filtering the light into gentle patterns across whitewashed wooden floors.
However long we've been here, the morning is long gone.
Artwork on the walls shows scenes of beaches—waves crashing against rocks, seabirds wheeling against cloudy skies, sandy shores stretching to distant horizons. So like my imaginary sanctuary.
The bed I’m lying on is enormous. A king-size wrapped in crisp white linens that smell fresh and clean.
No basement mustiness, no hospital antiseptic.
The mattress beneath me is cloud-soft. A pile of pillows in various shades of blue and green creates a nest-like arrangement against the carved wooden headboard.
Fragments of memory float back. Being carried from a car, strong arms cradling me against a broad chest. The scent of rich coffee telling me it was Phoenix.
He never stopped holding me while we were holed up in that car.
Everything else is hazy, lost to exhaustion and heat fever and the aftermath of terror.
Memory of the attack is clearer. The sound of glass breaking, running through the night and the desperate chase through city streets. The way my alphas... no, not my alphas. The way Asher, Soren, and Phoenix protected me. Fought for me. Refused to let me go even when I offered to sacrifice myself.
Movement makes me tense. I’m not alone, but it's just Phoenix shifting in his sleep beside me. They’re all in bed with me, sprawled on top of the covers while I'm cocooned beneath them.
Asher lies on the outside of the bed behind Soren and closest to the door, his body positioned between any threat and the rest of us.
His olive skin is shadowed with stubble, his dark hair falling across his forehead.
Soren is wedged between Asher and me. His arms are carefully folded, his biceps stretching his mud-smudged shirt sleeves as he sleeps on his side facing me.
Even asleep, he maintains a distance, respecting boundaries I didn't know alphas could respect. Phoenix doesn’t distance himself.
His arm is draped over my blanket-wrapped form and his body is pressed against mine.
His whole front covers my side but even then…
I don’t feel smothered. His blond hair is a mess, stubble graces his jaw, but his face is peaceful.
All three of them are still fully clothed, rumpled and dirty.
Lethal grace wrapped in devastating beauty.
I shut down that line of thought.
The slight shift in Asher's breathing tells me he has woken first. My attention flies to the biggest threat in the room. His eyes open, unerringly finding mine. The intensity of his gaze gives flight to my stomach. Not with fear but with something else I'm not ready to name.
“Moonbeam. How are you feeling?” His tone is all whiskey and gravel and I stifle the good shiver that works through my body .
His voice wakes the others. Soren's eyes snap open to lock on me. Phoenix stirs more slowly, his arm tightening slightly around my waist before he wakes up. A slow smile spreads on his devastating face as he sees me awake. Their masculine-musk scents wrap around me like a protective cocoon.
Dread should be pooling in my stomach. I should be at least trying to climb out of this cocoon and put a door between me and this alpha threat but instead my body stays languid and relaxed.
I make a mental note to give myself a pep talk about basic survival when my senses aren’t attuned to mouth-watering scents and acres of rippling muscles.
“Tough Girl? Are you okay?” Phoenix says. His morning voice is just as devastating as Asher’s, damn him.
“Yes, I…” I pause, considering how I feel. My insides aren’t so hot they’ve turned to liquid and my abdomen has stopped twisting itself inside out. In fact, I’m nicely warm. Toasty. Comfortable. Clean and safe, surrounded by softness instead of concrete.
They saved me. At risk to themselves. And not for the first time either.
Last night it was clear we were attacked because of me.
It would have been so easy for them to hand me over, dust their hands and walk away because I am too much trouble.
Instead, they did what they said they’d do—anything to keep me safe.
I don’t want to voice any of those thoughts, so I settle on a simple truth. “I’m…confused.”
Phoenix chuckles, a sound that should be banned. “We're at one of Adrian's safe houses. Safe, secure and in luxurious hiding.”
“Don’t upset her, idiot!” Soren says.
Phoenix’s relaxed expression tightens. He rises onto his elbow which only serves to highlight the thickness of his bicep.
His rich coffee scent coats my tongue and slides down my throat like the best latte.
“I’m not upsetting you, am I? I was just trying to say we’ve gone dark, and no one can trace us here. ”
Soren sits up. My fingers twitch under the covers to wipe away the smudge of dirt on his sharp jawline. “And safe. We’re safe, Emma. ”
“We’ll fill you in, but would you like to get up and shower first?” Asher’s voice is rough from sleep. He slides off the bed and strides to the dresser, muscles flexing beneath his crumpled tactical gear. He begins to open and close drawers like it's his latest mission.
“Everything you need should be in here. Adrian said the house is stocked with everything an omega might need.” He picks through the contents, turning to me with an armful of women’s clothing. They look small and delicate in hands that still bear the marks of our battle last night.
Hands that grabbed me from the bottom of the pool and hauled me back to safety.
I drag my gaze up his broad chest, over his wrinkled clothes to chocolate eyes that are trained on me.
“Clothes?” My sentences are apparently single words.
Asher swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing. “He said he stocked it for Mira, but if you want anything else, we’ll get it for you.”
He’s still thinking of me. They all are. They fought for me. Put themselves in the line of danger.
For me.
“But you're...” I gesture at their state, dirty and blood-stained from last night's chaos.
The words stick in my throat, this unfamiliar concern strange on my tongue.
My body remembers their gentle touches, how Phoenix cradled me in the car like I was something precious.
How Soren fired bullets out of the car window.
How Asher drove like a crazy man to outrun whoever was after us.
Something warm flashes in their eyes at my worry, and a smile ghosts over Asher’s full lips. “We’re fine, Moonbeam.”
“We'll take turns showering after we take care of you,” Soren assures me.
Something soft goes kersplat inside my chest and it has everything to do with giant alphas who are dangerous in their gentleness.
Red alert lights flash inside my head.
“I...” I swallow hard, gathering courage. “I'd feel better if you cleaned up too.”
Their scents warm and now a siren blares inside my skull .
“How about this? You shower first, get comfortable. We'll all get cleaned up in another bathroom because this house is stocked with anything and everything and then we’ll get you something to eat. Deal?” Phoenix says.
I sit up. I can’t stay lying down. Not when the place between my thighs starts to throb the way it did in the shower. With me naked in Asher’s lap writhing in pain and begging to make it stop. My stupid omega genes would have let them do anything to me. But they…stayed clothed.
Tended to me.
Gave me what I needed with their mouths. Hands. Tongues.
Stoked my painful burning waves of pain into the only orgasm I’ve ever had.
“How is that a deal when you’re doing everything for me?” I ask, grateful they seem to be ignoring my scent.
Soren’s mouth curves up on one side and my heart does a spring-jump it never has before. “That’s the best kind of deal.”
I nod because I don’t know what to say in the face of this sort of assault.
“Besides,” Phoenix says, his blue eyes dancing with mischief as he carefully draws back the top cover, “it's in my best interest to keep you scenting like honeysuckle and vanilla rather than alpha sweat and dried blood.”
Soren helps me to the edge of the bed, his touch careful but steady. Asher places the clothes beside me, close enough to reach but not touching my blanket-wrapped form. I'm naked and vulnerable beneath this thin barrier, but they don't leer, grab, or take advantage.
“Call if you need anything. We’ll hear you,” Asher says, and they then just…leave.
The door shuts behind them. I sit on the end of the bed drawing in their lingering scents.
The urge to wash off the terror of the night is too much to ignore.
The bathroom is as beautiful as the bedroom, all sea-glass tiles and shell-shaped fixtures.
The shower pressure is perfect, the water hot and plentiful.
I stay under the spray until my skin turns pink, marveling at this simple luxury I'd forgotten existed .
I dry myself with a large, fluffy white towel and set it aside before I pick up the clothes Asher picked. I slip on the underwear, working the soft exercise bra over my chest. My breasts are so small, I don’t really need the support of a bra but it’s nice to put one on.
I pull on the matching set of gray and pink yoga pants, T-shirt and oversized top, feeling more feminine than ever. I’m glad Asher told me these clothes belong to Mira. I know she’d have no problem lending them to me.