Chapter 12 – MICAH #2
"It's weird," she murmurs. "Being... pampered. I've never—" She stops abruptly, jaw tightening.
"Never what?" I keep my voice gentle, my hands steady on her back.
"Nothing. It doesn't matter."
"It matters to us." Rowan guides her under the spray to rinse the shampoo. "You can tell us. Or not. No pressure."
She's quiet for a long time while he works conditioner through her hair. I continue the massage, moving down her spine, feeling the gradual loosening of her muscles as the hot water and our attention do their work.
"Kyle never touched me like this," she finally murmurs. "It was always about what he could get from me. My magic, my body, my status as the Thirteenth… everything was transactional."
My hands still on her back. Through our bond, I feel Rowan's anger flare just like mine. Hot and sharp and deadly. But we both swallow it down. She needs comfort right now, not our rage.
"That's not how bonds are supposed to work," I say carefully. "Not any kind of bond. Coven, pack, mate—none of it should feel like a transaction."
"I know that now." She turns slightly, water streaming down her face, washing away tears I hadn't noticed forming in her eyes.
"But for five years, that was my normal.
Everything I did was calculated against what it would cost me, what Kyle would demand in return.
Even resting was something I had to earn. "
Rowan's hands pause in her hair. "Earn how?"
"Enough magical output. Enough spells for his clients.
Enough..." She swallows hard. "Enough compliance.
If I questioned anything, if I pushed back on any of his decisions, he'd cut off my access to the coven's energy.
Let me drain down until I could barely function.
Then act like he was doing me a favor by letting me feed again. "
My wolf is snarling now, straining against my control. I want to find Kyle Starbridge and tear him apart piece by piece for what he did to our mate. But I force my hands to stay gentle on her skin, force my voice to stay calm.
"That's abuse," I say flatly. "That's what abusers do. They isolate, they manipulate, they make you feel like you're the problem."
"I know." Her voice breaks slightly. "I know that now. But when you're in it, when it's all you've known for years... it feels normal. It feels like you must be the crazy one, because everyone else seems to think he's perfect."
"He's not perfect," Rowan says, his usual measured tone edged with something darker. "He's a predator. And predators are excellent at appearing charming to everyone except their prey."
Regina turns to face us fully, water cascading down her back. I can tell from the way she's looking at us that the walls she usually keeps up are crumbling, and underneath is so much pain that it physically hurts me.
Especially now that we're bonded.
I wish I could do more than just feel it, though. I wish I could take it from her. Every moment of rejection, every painful memory that makes her whisper and wince in her sleep.
"I didn't understand why you all wanted me," she says quietly. "With my…" She trails off, hesitates, and takes a deep breath. "At first, I thought it was about the bond requirements. The university rules. I figured once we were officially bonded, you'd start treating me the way Kyle did."
"Never." The word comes out rougher than I want it to. "That's never going to happen."
"I'm starting to believe that." She reaches up, her wet palm cupping my cheek. "You're all so... different. From him. From everything I thought alphas were." She hesitates, then adds reluctantly, "Especially wolves."
"We're possessive assholes," I admit with a slight smile. "Territorial, overprotective, probably annoying as hell. But we'd never hurt you. We'd rather gnaw off our own limbs than cause you pain."
She smiles a little bit more. "I know."
Through our bond, I feel the shift in her. The letting go of old fears, the tentative reaching toward something new. She's not all the way there yet. Years of conditioning don't disappear overnight.
But she's trying.
She's letting us in.
And that's more than enough for now.
Rowan finishes rinsing the conditioner from her hair, and I resume the massage, working my way down her arms. We're both pointedly ignoring certain physical responses to the proximity of our naked, wet mate.
Harder than fucking calculus.
"This is nice," Regina murmurs, leaning into my touch. "Really nice."
"We could do this every morning," Rowan offers. "If you wanted."
"Every morning?" She laughs. "I'd never leave the fucking shower."
"You wouldn't have to," I say, grinning again. "We can install a waterproof mattress. Move all meals to the bathroom. Start a new trend."
"You're ridiculous."
"You've said that already."
"It bears repeating."
I work my thumbs into a particularly stubborn knot at the base of her neck, and she makes a sound that's probably supposed to be innocent but goes straight to my groin. My resolve wavers. Just a little bit.
"If you keep making those noises," I warn, "my self-control is going to become a casualty and I'm going to end up begging you to let me touch you."
"Sorry." She doesn't sound sorry at all. "It just feels really—"
The bathroom door slams open.
"I SMELL HORNINESS AND BACON IS READY IN T-MINUS FIVE MINUTES," Killian bellows from the doorway, his voice pitched to carry over the running water. "SO NO ONE HAD BETTER BE FUCKING IN THERE."
We all freeze. Then Regina bursts into laughter that shakes her whole body and echoes off the bathroom tiles.
"We're not fucking," I call back, unable to keep the grin from my voice. "We're being supportive."
"Supportively naked?" Killian's growling tone drips skepticism.
"It's a very supportive shower," Rowan confirms, perfectly deadpan. "Very wholesome."
"Bullshit. Five minutes, or I'm giving the plates I made for you and Micah to Sean." The door slams shut again.
Regina is still laughing, bracing herself against the shower wall. "Does he always do that?"
"Only when he thinks we're having fun without him," I admit, turning off the water and reaching for a towel. "He's got serious FOMO when it comes to you, apparently. We should probably head down before he actually eats our breakfast."
"He wouldn't."
"Not yours, but ours? Absolutely," Rowan says with a snort. "I've seen him eat an entire pot roast out of spite."
"That's… actually concerning, but impressive."
"Welcome to Lupe Tau," I say flatly.
We help Regina dry off, which involves more touching than strictly necessary but stays within the bounds of our promises. She's still smiling. It's a real smile, too, not the careful diplomatic ones she uses when she's uncomfortable.
Clean clothes have mysteriously appeared outside the bathroom door. Sean's doing, probably. We dress quickly and head downstairs, following the scent of bacon and coffee that wafts through the house.
The kitchen is a controlled disaster zone. Sean mans the stove with aggressive enthusiasm while Killian glowers at the smoking toaster. The table is already set with plates and silverware, and there's a frankly obscene amount of food spread across every available surface.
"You made enough to feed an army," Regina observes, taking in the mountains of pancakes, bacon, eggs, and toast.
"We have four alpha shifters," Sean points out. "That basically is an army."
"Fair point."
We settle around the table, Regina sandwiched between me and Rowan with Killian at the head and Sean across from us. It already feels like we've been doing this for years instead of days.
"How was the supportive shower?" Sean asks innocently, loading Regina's plate first before piling his own high enough to choke a horse.
"Very supportive," Regina replies, matching his tone. "And completely innocent."
"Uh huh." He doesn't look convinced. "And that's why you were in there for thirty minutes?"
"Good massages take time," Rowan says.
"I bet they do."
Killian cuts off the banter by shoving a glass of orange juice toward Regina. "Eat. You need to refuel."
She rolls her eyes but accepts the food. "Yes, alpha."
The sarcasm in her voice makes Sean snicker, but Killian just looks pleased. He really does have a praise kink, even when the praise is wrapped in mockery.
Regina takes a sip of the orange juice before I can warn her and spews it out the next second. "What the hell is in that?"
Killian stares innocently. "It's an orange bomb."
Regina stares warily at him. "I'm probably going to regret this, but what on Gaia's green earth is an 'orange bomb'?"
"The usual," Killian says with a shrug. "Oranges, sugar, protein powder, a little cinnamon for—"
"Wait, protein powder?" she echoes in disbelief.
"Yeah, gotta make sure our mate meets her macros," Killian says, blinking. "Can't have you passing out on us again."
Regina groans, burying her face in her hands. "Just when I was starting to think you're the only one who's not a himbo."
"Me?" Killian points at himself incredulously.
"Wait," Rowan says, leaning forward. "You thought Killian wasn't but I am?"
He sounds devastated.
I tune out the playful argument and go to get Regina some normal orange juice, sans protein powder. Eventually, the power of bacon settles things down.
Conversation flows easily as we eat. Sean recounts a story from last semester involving a misguided attempt to prank the campus security office with glitter—he was coughing the shit up for a week, and claims it was just two days—and Killian starts divvying up chores just in case the Dean decides to send his favorite right-hand nymph to check on us before we can hand in our pack registration.
"So what do you need me to do?" Regina asks, setting down her fork after putting away an impressive amount of bacon for someone her size. I didn't think it was possible, but I'm even more in love with her now. "For the registration, I mean."