Chapter 26
don’t mess it up
RAVIK
Early that morning, I stood in my kitchen, holding both of today’s gifts: two tape measures. I’d picked up a soft fabric one the other day at Barrington’s in Blue Water, and the metal, retractable one was from my own toolbox.
So, not entirely free. And Bell would probably wonder why she needed a tape measure. She’d find out soon.
I’d been planning to leave the gifts on her porch around dawn, like always. But Zion was still over there after that damn nightmare.
I thought back to the evening walk. How strangely she’d been acting. Distant. Even squirrellier than usual. She hadn’t even thanked me for the books I left her before running off. It felt like something had spooked her, but I couldn’t figure out what.
Again, I wished I was better at talking.
When Zion got back to his own place, I was going to call a meeting. Consult with him and Boone about what might have—
The bond flared, and suddenly I was there, staring down at Bell as Zion warned her he was about to undo the buttons of the shirt he’d given her to wear.
Frozen in place, I watched the scene unfold at my kitchen counter.
And then, after some reassurance, Bell’s taste was on Zion’s tongue.
I felt his dick dribbling cum onto her sheet as he attended to both breasts before kissing a trail down her skin to her sugar cookie pussy....
Oh, hell.
It was even better than I’d imagined.
Sweet. Addictive. Perfect.
I dropped the tape measures.
Staggered toward the bathroom, even though I’d already showered that morning. Rock hard. Furious. Desperate.
I made it to the shower, yanked the curtain aside. Turned on the water without checking the temperature. Didn’t care that it was cold.
Her hips were bucking into my mouth through Zion’s bond. I could feel what he felt—the softness of her thighs, the way she trembled around my head, the plaintive little mews she was making.
I stroked myself furiously. Hating how good it felt, even as a third party. But also hating that it wasn’t actually me touching her.
It should be me.
I never whined. Never complained. But I scraped my short human nails into the walls of the shower I’d recently re-grouted as bitter thoughts ran through my head.
I am the first maul. I’d gone first with Niska, even after she bit Zion.
Because that was the traditional order of things.
But Boone had gotten Bell’s first surrender, and now Zion was licking her sweet, clenching pussy.
Looking up from between her legs at her, trying to hold her response in with her hand squeezed over her mouth.
Another blinding wave of pleasure zapped through me when she lost the battle and moaned.
And Boone yelled over the bond. “HOLY FUCK I WAS UNPREPARED FOR HOW GOOD THIS WOULD FEEL!”
There were those two years when this was the only kind of access I had to Niska. Still, I understood exactly how Boone felt. We’d been waiting for so long for another surrender. Everything was amplified over the three-way bond.
Her hips bucked under our collective tongue while Zion rubbed our aching dick into her mattress. And when Zion sucked her clit into our mouth…
So damn good… We could stay down here forever.
She kicked her heel into our back, pussy quivering as she arched off the bed.
I came hard. Shooting ropes onto the wall. With no doubt that Boone was doing the same thing.
For a moment, the world vibrated white hot all around me because we’d worshipped at this altar and made our goddess come.
But then Zion calmed, and the maul bond flared back down to neutral, going silent again without the intense emotions amplifying every single thing Zion thought and did between her legs.
Soon, I was back to being alone in my head again. Slumped against the tile as cold water beat down on my shoulders. The intense satisfaction of her orgasm faded into a hollow echo of that thing that happened. To someone else.
This was progress, I told myself.
She was accepting pleasure. Accepting care. Accepting us.
But the jealousy still seethed in my gut like poison.
Zion got to taste her. Touch her. Make her moan like that.
And I was here. Alone. In a cold shower.
My bear found this situation completely unacceptable. Wanted to shift, run to her cottage, drag her out of there, and claim what was ours.
But I wrestled it back down. Reminded it that I’d had weeks of opportunities with her that I’d been too scared to take.
Because I wasn’t Zion. Or even Boone. And I couldn’t figure out how to talk to her without mucking it up.
Ursa dammit.
I was getting re-dressed in a ribbon shirt and jeans when the bond pinged again.
Zion’s voice in my head: “Incoming.”
I froze, shirt half on. “You’re back at your temporary lodging.”
Unlike Bell, I didn’t pretend our setup in the Outer Limits was anything but a stopgap.
“Yes. It would seem I’ve been cookie-blocked,” Zion answered dryly. “She opted out of making cookies with me this morning because she said she’d already made them. For you. She mentioned something about wanting to have another go at communicating with you.”
I could hear the bemusement in his voice. “Don’t mess it up this time.”
My heart stopped.
Bell was coming here? To my house?
I yanked the shirt on properly and checked my reflection. Ran a hand through my damp hair, which was much longer than it used to be since I’d started growing it out.
I didn’t want to look too uptight, like I didn’t match with Bell when we made our debut as a maul, but it was in an awkward phase. More shag than locks. And I couldn’t have it dripping down my face. I brushed the top half into a hair tie before turning to run a check of the house.
Kitchen: spotless.
Front room: organized.
Everything in its place.
I went to stand by the door, rigid. Waiting.
The knock came exactly twenty-three minutes later.
I opened it. And there she was….
A freshly showered Bell stood on my porch—this time with a plate of cookies covered in foil, not angrily thrown into a freezer bag.
She wore one of the outfits I’d gotten her back in May.
Black leggings and a tee underneath the leather jacket she’d debuted last night.
The gray hair on her shaved sides was already starting to grow out again despite Zion having touched her up a week ago.
And more gray had sprouted up at the bottom of her locks.
It was so striking against her dark skin.
I couldn’t get over how beautiful she was. Even more so this morning. She was... glowing, her good mood radiating off her like heat.
Because of Zion, I realized.
Him escalating the intimacy between them was part of the plan, an important step forward, but my bear scraped its jealous claws across my chest.
“Hi!” She smiled—actually smiled at me. “I... I made you cookies.” She thrust the plate out at me.
My Adam’s apple bobbed once, twice, before I was able to answer. “Thank you.” I took the gift from her, already making a plan to savor them one by one.
But then she surprised me by asking, “May I come in?”
Bell was here. Not outside in the backyard yelling at me about how she didn’t need protection. But here in my house. Sitting at the kitchen table, I’d just finished refurbishing by hand.
“I can’t get over how much work you’ve managed to get done here.” She glanced around the space I’d renovated over the past few weeks, taking it in. “You’ve turned this falling-down house into a beautiful home.”
My face heated at the compliment. “Thanks.” I knew I was supposed to say something else. Zion always managed to segue from a compliment into a story or a compliment back.
But all I could come up with was, “Boone helped. What do you take in your coffee?”
“Black, with sugar,” she answered. “Like, an embarrassing amount of sugar.”
She laughed. And I didn’t realize I was probably supposed to laugh too until I was halfway through making the coffee.
Ursa dammit.
But she seemed okay with doing the heavy lifting of the conversation. “I’m surprised you had enough time to fix up the house. Zion mentioned that Holly’s and Noelle’s first mauls have had you running all over town doing stuff for the Christmas in July festival.”
It took me an unnaturally long time to come up with, “Yeah. Lot of work.”
“But you like work, right?” she guessed. “You like keeping busy and doing for others? That’s why you became a Mountie, so that you could look out for the whole town?”
I was jolted by her accurate read. She’d been listening, paying attention to me. Even though I’d barely said more than a few words to her since the last time she came to my house.
I kept trying to wrap my head around what Zion said about Bell “struggling with low self-worth.” But I once again had trouble seeing how she didn’t see what I saw when I assessed her.
Not only was she beautiful, she was talented, easy to get along with—even if you were Boone.
And her observation just confirmed what I’d suspected during our walks with Zion. She was a good listener.
“I inherited the job. My birth father and his birth father were also RCMP. But yeah, I liked it—still like helping others when I can.” The knot in my chest loosened, and I sat down at the table with her with my own cup of coffee.
I told her about all the work I’d been doing for the town—building booths, fixing the stage for the pageant, organizing logistics.
While skirting around the topic of why Zion and I had taken an overnight trip to Bear Mountain a couple of days ago.
She seemed genuinely interested in the topic and kept asking follow-up questions.
This was the longest conversation we’d had since the fight.
We talked about the festival, about how Bear Mountain came together for events like this. It was... nice. Normal. I started to relax.
Then Bell set down her coffee cup.
“You were right,” she said quietly.
“Right?” I repeated, not quite understanding.