Chapter 18
18
EMMA
T hree days of heat-induced passion blur together in a haze of hands, mouths, cocks, and overwhelming pleasure.
Three days of being filled in every possible way, of coming so many times, I lost count, of being covered inside and out with more slick and seed than I thought humanly possible.
Three days of surrendering completely to three Alphas who worshipped my body like it was their personal temple.
And now, finally, I feel normal again.
More than normal, I feel incredible, as though I’m vibrating at a frequency I’ve never experienced before.
My skin practically glows, my hair is shinier, and there’s a contentment in my bones that goes deeper than mere satisfaction.
But with that contentment comes a terror that threatens to choke me.
They bit me at my request. All three of them.
Claimed me with marks that still throb gently over my body, a constant reminder of what we’ve done.
Does this mean it’s forever?
The rational part of my brain knows that plenty of couples have broken up after bonding bites, even though it comes with agonizing longing and pain that can last for years.
Please, universe, don’t let that happen to me.
I’ve gone ahead and trusted again.
I want to be right this time.
The thought of losing them has my chest tightening with panic.
I’ve been hurt before, rejected and discarded like I was nothing.
The scars from Chad’s betrayal are still fresh, and the idea of experiencing that kind of devastation again, but magnified by three and intensified by the biological bond, is almost paralyzing.
Stop it, I tell myself firmly.
They chose you. They marked you.
They’re taking you out tonight to celebrate.
Dinner at Starlight & Sage, the new restaurant that opened in Whispering Grove last month.
According to River, it’s supposed to be an amazing fusion of rustic mountain cuisine with sophisticated presentation, the kind of place where people get dressed up but not stuffy, where the atmosphere is cozy rather than intimidating.
The guys insisted on buying me something special to wear, and when I protested that I didn’t need new clothes, Atlas simply said, “You deserve beautiful things, Emma. Let us give them to you.”
How do you argue with that?
The dress they chose hangs on the back of my door, and every time I look at it, I can’t quite believe it’s mine.
Midnight blue silk that seems to contain entire galaxies, with tiny crystal beads scattered across the fabric like stars.
It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever owned.
I slip out of my robe and carefully lift the dress from its hanger.
The silk whispers against my skin as I pull it on, settling over my curves like it was made specifically for my body.
The neckline dips low enough to show the swell of my breasts without being indecent, while spaghetti straps leave my shoulders bare, showing off one of my healing bite marks.
The skirt fits snugly over my hips before falling in a graceful line to my ankles, with a slit up the side that reaches higher than mid-thigh.
Every step I take, the fabric slides against my legs with a whisper of sound, the slit revealing flashes of thigh that make me feel powerful, feminine, and desired all at once.
I turn to face the full-length mirror and barely recognize the woman staring back at me.
My hair falls in loose waves around my shoulders.
My skin has that post-heat glow that makes me look radiant and healthy.
The dress transforms me from the girl next door into someone sophisticated.
Is this what real happiness feels like?
This bubbling effervescence in my chest, this sense that the world is full of infinite possibility?
A soft knock at the door interrupts my thoughts.
“Come in,” I call .
River slides through the doorway, and I smile instantly at seeing him.
He’s dressed in dark jeans and a button-down shirt the color of forest shadows, the sleeves rolled up to reveal those powerful forearms. His golden hair is styled with just enough product to look deliberately tousled, and his usual easy grin is replaced by something darker and sexier.
“I brought your—” He stops mid-sentence, his eyes going wide as he takes in my appearance.
“Fuck me,” he breathes, the shoes he was carrying forgotten as they dangle from two fingers.
I feel heat rush to my cheeks under his obvious appreciation.
“Do I look okay?”
“Okay?” He adjusts his cock through his jeans with his free hand, not even trying to hide his reaction.
“Sugar cube, you look like every wet dream I’ve ever had wrapped up in designer silk.”
A giggle escapes me at his crude but flattering assessment.
“River!”
“What? I’m being honest.” He sets the shoes, strappy heels that perfectly match the dress, on the dresser and moves closer, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Twirl for me.”
I do as he asks, spinning slowly so the skirt flares around my legs, the slit revealing more of my thigh.
When I face him again, his smile stretches wider.
“I’ve never worn anything like this,” I admit, suddenly self-conscious under his heated stare.
“I feel like I’m playing dress-up.”
“It suits you so perfectly,” he murmurs, reaching out to trace the line of my collarbone with one finger.
“We may need to get you an entire wardrobe of dresses if this is how you look in them.”
“I don’t need a whole wardrobe.”
“We’ll see about that,” he says with a wicked grin that tells me this argument is far from over.
I roll my eyes, but I can’t help smiling.
This easy feeling of being cherished and desired is everything I never knew I was missing.
“I still can’t believe how things are turning out,” I confess, my voice softer now.
“More than a week ago, I was heartbroken and alone. Now...”
“Now you’re ours,” he finishes, his hands coming up to frame my face.
“And we’re yours. However you want us.”
Before I can respond, he steps closer, his arm sliding around the back of my neck to pull me toward him.
His lips meet mine in a kiss in slow, deliberate motion.
His tongue slides inside to tangle with mine in a dance that makes my knees weak.
When we finally break apart, I’m breathless and clinging to his shoulders for support.
“We should go,” I manage, though the words come out husky and unconvincing.
“The reservation...”
“In a minute,” he says, his eyes sparkling with mischief and something darker.
“First, let me help you with your shoes.”
He retrieves the heels from the dresser and kneels before me in one fluid motion, his hands gentle as he guides my foot onto his bent knee.
“Hold on to me,” he instructs, offering his head and shoulders for balance.
I rest my hands on his broad shoulders, feeling the warmth of him through his shirt as he carefully slips the first shoe onto my foot, his fingers surprisingly deft with the delicate strap.
The simple act of him kneeling before me, attending to such an intimate task, sends a flutter of arousal through me.
“Other foot,” he murmurs, switching my feet on his knee.
As he secures the second shoe, his hands linger on my ankle and my calf, his touch sending sparks up my leg.
Once both shoes are on, I move to step back, but he doesn’t rise.
Instead, he lifts his gaze to mine, and I notice the familiar twinkle of danger and trouble in his bright blue eyes—the look that usually means I’m about to be thoroughly ravished.
“River, we don’t have time,” I whisper.
His hands slide up my thighs, taking advantage of the dress’s high slit to push the silk aside.
Cool air hits my skin, and I realize exactly how exposed I am in this position.
“Lacy thong,” he observes with obvious approval, his fingers tracing the edge of the delicate fabric.
“I can see right through it.”
Heat floods my face, but I can’t deny the thrill that runs through me at his appreciation.
“You like it?”
“You have no idea,” he growls, leaning forward to press tiny kisses along the edge of my underwear, his breath hot against my skin.
“I can’t get enough of you, of this.”
His fingers hook into the bikini line elastic of my thong, peeling the fabric aside.
I should protest, but my body betrays me by leaning into his touch.
“We have to go. The others are waiting.”
“I can’t,” he says, his voice rough with need.
“I just need?—”
His words are cut off as his tongue finds me, drawing a gasp from my lips that echoes in the quiet room.
My legs immediately turn to jelly, threatening to give out as he begins to work me with single-minded determination.
I breathe, my hands flying to his hair as he pushes deeper between my thighs, his tongue dragging long, hungry strokes through my slick folds.
He finds my clit, circling it once, then again, firmer, wetter, until I can’t think, can’t breathe.
My back arches as heat coils low and tight in my belly.
“We’re not going to make it to dinner.”
He doesn’t respond with words, but his low, amused chuckle hums against my pussy, and the vibration sends a jolt straight through me.
My thighs try to snap shut, but he’s already there, already locked in, holding me open with a grip that says you’re not going anywhere.
His hands slide under my thighs, pulling them slightly wider, locking me in place as he devours me like I’m his favorite ice cream, licking, sucking, tongue fucking me.
I moan, broken and high, fingers tugging his hair as my body trembles beneath him.
He groans against me like he can’t get enough, like tasting me is driving him mad, and I swear I can feel the heat of his need bleeding into my skin.
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes from how overwhelming it is, pleasure flooding me, wave after wave, each one threatening to break me open.
He’s not just eating me out.
He’s claiming me.
This is feral, hungry, desperate, River consuming me with a savagery that steals my sanity.
My legs wobble dangerously, the muscles trembling as pleasure coils tighter and tighter, threatening to snap.
I’m completely at his mercy, helpless under the weight of his mouth and the ruthlessness of his tongue.
The only thing keeping me upright is his grip, hands like iron on my thighs, keeping me in place as he devours me like he owns me.
“River,” I gasp, voice raw, shaking.
My fingers twist in his hair, desperate, needy, pulling without realizing it as my climax builds with terrifying speed.
“I can’t… I’m going to…”
He doesn’t let up.
If anything, he doubles down, tongue working deep, relentless strokes, lips dragging against my clit.
His fingers dig into my skin hard enough to bruise, but the pain only sharpens the pleasure, grounding me as everything else spirals out of control.
It’s too much. The drag of his tongue.
The heat of his mouth.
The possessive grip on my flesh.
It’s like my body doesn’t belong to me anymore, it’s his.
Then, the orgasm hits me unrelentingly.
I cry out, and it rattles me.
My body convulses, hips jerking, thighs clenching around his head as wave after wave of pleasure tears through me.
He doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up, not for a second.
He wrings every last tremor from me, tongue dragging over my slick, oversensitive flesh until I’m shaking, sobbing, half-laughing as I beg him to stop.
Only then does he pull back, slow and deliberate, his tongue making one last possessive pass between my folds—cleaning me, claiming me.
When he finally lifts his head, his eyes are dark and feral with satisfaction.
His lips are glistening, and he licks them clean with a slow swipe of his tongue, not breaking eye contact.
Then, like it’s nothing, he carefully adjusts my thong back into place, like a man tucking away a secret he plans to savor later.
“Just wanted to make sure you’re properly sated before we go out,” he says with a wink, rising to his feet.
“So you only think of me. Of us.”
I lean against him for support, my legs still unsteady from the intensity of my release.
“As if anyone else could ever drag my attention from you three,” I manage, still breathless.
“Ready to go, you two?” Levi’s voice comes from the doorway, followed immediately by a sharp intake of breath.
“Fuck, it smells incredible in here.”
River glances over at him with obvious satisfaction.
“Had a pussy quick snack to keep me going through dinner,” he says with a grin that’s pure masculine smugness.
Levi’s eyes widen with desire and what looks like jealousy.
“We have time in the car for another snack,” he suggests in my direction.
I burst into giggles at his expression, the absurdity of the situation breaking through my post-orgasmic haze.
“You’re all insatiable,” I accuse, though there’s no heat in my words.
“Only with you,” River says, taking my hand and pulling me toward the door.
The drive to the restaurant is relaxing—Atlas’s hand on my thigh, Levi’s fingers playing with my hair from the back seat, River stealing glances at me in the rearview mirror that has my stomach fluttering in memory of his mouth on me.
“I have to get back to writing tomorrow,” I mention as we navigate the town roads and traffic.
“My deadline is coming up fast, and I’ve been... distracted for the past few days.”
“We’ll make sure you have everything you need,” Atlas assures me from the driver’s seat.
“Coffee, food, complete silence if that’s what helps you work.”
“Though we might need to head back to work ourselves,” Levi adds apologetically.
“For sure,” I say, though the thought of being alone after three days of constant companionship sends a little pang through me.
“I’m a big girl. I can manage a few hours without you. ”
“Can you, though?” River teases.
“Because the withdrawal might be pretty severe after this weekend.”
I turn to him, eyeing him and giving him a smirk, but I’m hoping he’s wrong.
The bond between us is still new, still strong, and I’ve heard separation anxiety is a common side effect in the first few weeks.
When we arrive at the restaurant, Starlight & Sage turns out to be everything River promised and more.
The building occupies a restored Victorian house on the edge of town, its wraparound porch strung with fairy lights that twinkle like stars against the darkening sky.
Through the windows, I can see warm golden light and glimpses of exposed brick and dark wooden beams.
Inside, the atmosphere is exactly what I hoped for—elegant but welcoming, with white tablecloths and flickering candles creating intimacy without stuffiness.
Our table is perfectly positioned near a large window that offers a view of the street below.
“This is beautiful,” I murmur as Atlas pulls out my chair with old-fashioned chivalry, leaving me grinning.
“Not nearly as beautiful as you,” he replies, pressing a kiss to the top of my head before taking his own seat.
The menu is an adventure in itself with dishes that include fresh game from the surrounding mountains.
“I’m getting the trout,” Levi announces after careful consideration.
“The description mentions herbs that grow wild in these mountains.”
“Of course, you’d choose based on botanical research,” River teases, nudging him with his elbow.
“I’m going for the bison short ribs. Go big or go home.”
“What about you?” Atlas asks, turning his attention to me.
I scan the menu, overwhelmed by the choices.
“Maybe the... actually, I need to use the restroom first. Can you order me something if the server comes by? I trust your taste.”
“You got it,” Atlas states, rising slightly from his chair as I stand—another gesture of old-fashioned courtesy that never fails to charm me.
I make my way across the restaurant, weaving between tables filled with couples and families enjoying their evening out.
The atmosphere is relaxed and convivial, the kind of place where everyone seems to be having a wonderful time.
I’m almost to the restroom when I see them.
Chad and Megan, sitting at a corner table, her hand covering his across the white tablecloth, has my stomach lurching with disgust. With anger.
What the fuck!
I freeze mid-step.
Of course. Of fucking course, he lied when he called me during my heat, claiming things with Megan weren’t what I thought.
But here he is, in my town, with her, looking perfectly content with his betrayal.
The sight of them together ignites a rage in me that I haven’t felt since that day I walked in on them together.
How dare he come here?
My sharp intake of breath must have been audible because Chad’s head turns in my direction.
Our eyes meet across the restaurant, and I watch his expression shift from surprise to something far darker—predatory.
He looks exactly the same.
Too polished. Too perfect.
The light brown hair with those ridiculous, expensive highlights is still styled as if he stepped out of a men’s grooming ad.
Designer everything, right down to the Italian leather shoes and that oversized watch he never shuts up about.
He’s on his feet immediately, abandoning Megan without a word as he strides toward me with that confident swagger that used to make my heart race.
Now, it just turns my stomach.
Panic floods my system, fight-or-flight instincts screaming at me to run.
I whirl around and rush back toward our table, my heart hammering in my throat and my hands shaking with adrenaline.
Atlas is out of his chair before I even reach the table, his protective instincts obviously triggered by whatever he’s reading in my body language.
“Emma?” he says, his voice sharp with concern.
“What’s wrong?”
I can’t speak, can’t find the words to explain.
I glance back over my shoulder and see Chad approaching, his chest puffed out with false bravado, that familiar sneer on his face that I used to mistake for confidence.
“Emma!” he calls, loud enough that other diners begin to turn and stare.
“What the fuck are you doing here with them?”
I try to answer, try to tell him exactly where he can shove his questions, but my voice has vanished.
All the old emotions come flooding back, the humiliation, the betrayal, the crushing sense of not being enough.
I hate him for still having this power over me, hate myself for letting him affect me this way.
Finally finding my voice, I say, “Last time I spoke with you, I told you to fuck off, Chad.”
River and Levi rise from their chairs with predatory grace, flanking Atlas as he steps slightly in front of me.
The guys seem to catch on immediately.
“Oh, this is Chad,” Atlas states, his voice deceptively calm as he turns to face my ex.
“How... interesting.”
For the first time since approaching our table, Chad’s eyes widen, taking in the three Alphas and perhaps is finally registering that he might be in over his head.
Three large, clearly fit men have turned their attention to him, and none of them look particularly friendly.
“I’ll see you soon, Emma,” Chad snarls, but I can hear the uncertainty creeping into his voice.
Atlas moves faster than I expect, his hand shooting out to grip Chad’s arm with enough force to make him wince.
“Actually,” Atlas says, his tone conversational despite the steel in his eyes.
“You’re going to join us for a moment. ”
In the same instant, Levi swoops me by my arm.
“Come,” he murmurs in my ear.
“Let’s give them some privacy to talk.”
He guides me to an empty table nearby, far enough that we won’t be in the immediate blast zone but close enough that I can still see what’s happening.
Other diners are staring now, sensing drama.
Shit!
“I don’t want to cause trouble,” I whisper to Levi, guilt and anxiety warring in my chest.
“You’re not causing anything,” he assures me, his hand warm and steady in mine.
“This is his doing, not yours.”
Back at our table, Atlas shoves Chad into my abandoned chair.
River takes the seat across from him, leaning back with deceptive casualness while Atlas looms over Chad’s shoulder.
To anyone watching, it might look like a friendly conversation, but I can see the tension in their bodies, the primal stillness that speaks of barely leashed aggression.
Chad glances between Atlas and River like a cornered animal, finally seeming to understand that he’s made a serious miscalculation.
“She’s a dumb Omega,” he states, his voice carrying clearly across go us.
“You’re idiots if you think she’ll be anything good for you. But I accepted her, and she’s mine, so you better fuck off.”
The words strangle me, each one designed to cut deep and remind me of every cruel thing he ever said during our relationship.
But this time, instead of crumbling, I feel a fierce surge of pride.
Because this time, I’m not alone.
One moment River’s lounging in his chair, all lazy smirk and relaxed limbs—then he moves.
In a blink, he’s out of his seat and on Chad, slamming him face-first into the white tablecloth, a fist tangled in his perfectly styled hair.
My eyes widen. Oh my God.
That was fast. Like blink-and-you-miss-it, apex predator speed.
Chad lets out a strangled noise, more indignation than pain, but he doesn’t even get the chance to recover before River leans in, low and dangerous, holding his head flat to the table.
“Let’s try that again,” River growls, his usual playful tone replaced by something deadly calm.
“But this time, show some respect when you talk about our Omega.”
The restaurant has gone completely silent now, all pretense of normalcy abandoned as the drama unfolds.
Nobody moves to intervene—perhaps sensing that these Alphas are not to be trifled with or perhaps simply recognizing that Chad brought this on himself.
Atlas leans in. “Emma doesn’t exist for you anymore,” he says, but his voice carries in the stillness.
“In fact, after tonight, you’re going to forget you ever knew her name.”
“You can’t—” Chad begins, but River increases the pressure on his skull, cutting off his words.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Atlas continues with lethal calm.
“You’re going to finish your dinner. You’re going to pay your check. And then you’re going to leave Whispering Grove and never come back. Because if I see you near Emma again, if I hear you’ve tried to contact her, if you so much as breathe her name in public, I will make you disappear. Are we clear?”
Chad tries to nod, limited by River’s grip on his hair.
“Crystal,” he gasps.
“Good.” Atlas straightens, and River releases his hold, allowing Chad to sit up.
But they don’t back away, keeping him trapped between them like wolves circling wounded prey.
“One more thing,” River adds, his cheerful mask sliding back into place with terrifying ease.
“That wasn’t a threat. It was a promise. And we always keep our word.”
Chad scrambles to his feet, his face flushed with humiliation and what looks like genuine fear.
“You’re all fucking insane,” he mutters, but he’s already backing toward his table.
“Maybe,” Atlas agrees with a cold smile.
“But we’re her kind of insane. Run along now.”
Chad doesn’t need to be told twice.
He practically flees back to Megan, who’s been watching the entire confrontation with wide, horrified eyes.
They have a brief, heated discussion before Chad throws money on the table, and they make a hasty exit, Chad casting one last fearful glance in our direction before disappearing into the night .
The restaurant slowly comes back to life, conversations resuming in hushed tones as people try to process what they just witnessed.
Atlas and River make their way over to where Levi and I sit, their expressions immediately softening when they see me.
“I’m sorry,” Atlas says, settling into the chair beside me.
“We didn’t mean to make a scene.”
“Are you kidding?” I ask, looking between the three of them with something approaching awe.
“That was the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen. Nobody has ever stood up for me like that.”
“Then, get used to it,” River says with a grin that’s equal parts dangerous and affectionate.
“Anyone who hurts you answers to us now.”
“But our dinner… and everyone is staring at us,” I protest weakly, gesturing toward the table they’ve abandoned.
“Fuck the fancy dinner,” Atlas states, offering me his hand.
“Let’s get out of here.”
They huddle around me as we leave the restaurant, Levi leaving some money on the table for our troubles I assume.
Thirty minutes later, we’re parked at a scenic overlook outside town, the city lights twinkling below us while we feast on tacos and burritos from a roadside stand.
The food is simple but delicious, and the company is infinitely better than any fancy restaurant could provide.
“This is my kind of going out,” I say around a bite of carne asada .
“Ours too,” Levi agrees, carefully folding his burrito to prevent spillage.
“Though perhaps next time, we should start with the food truck and skip the drama.”
“I really appreciate you standing up for me with Chad,” I say, setting down my taco to look at each of them seriously.
“God, he’s such a fuckhead.”
The crude assessment makes all three of them burst into laughter.
“There’s our Emma,” River says with delight.
“I was worried Chad might have scared away your sass.”
“Never,” I assure him.
“Though for a minute there, I felt like I was with him again, all tongue-tied and intimidated. I hate that he still has that effect on me.”
“It’s natural,” Atlas explains, his arm coming around my shoulders to pull me closer.
“He was designed to hurt you. But you’re stronger now, and you’re not alone.”
“We’ll always protect you,” Levi adds.
“That’s what packmates do.”
Packmates .
The word settles over me like a warm blanket, filling spaces inside me I didn’t even know were empty.
For so long, I’ve been independent by necessity, convinced that needing someone was a weakness I couldn’t afford.
But sitting under the stars with three Alphas who would literally fight for me, who make me laugh, drive me crazy, and worship my body like it’s their religion, feels like home in a way nothing ever has before.
“So, what happens now?” I ask, voicing the question that’s been nagging at me since we left the restaurant.
“What if he comes back?”
“He won’t,” Atlas says with absolute certainty.
“And if he does, we’ll handle it.”
“I don’t want to cause you problems?—”
“Emma,” River interrupts, leaning over to silence me with a gentle kiss.
“Stop borrowing trouble. Chad is a coward and a bully, and bullies run when they meet real resistance. He’s already halfway back to whatever rock he crawled out from under.”
“And even if he wasn’t,” Levi adds.
“We meant what we said. You’re ours now. That means your problems are our problems, your fights are our fights. No exceptions.”
I look between the three of them and feel something click into place inside me.
These are my Alphas.
This is my pack. This is my future.
“Okay,” I say simply and mean it.
“Okay.”
We sit in comfortable silence after that, finishing our impromptu dinner while the stars come out overhead.
Chad tried to make me feel small, tried to drag me back into the darkness of self-doubt and insecurity.
Instead, he gave my Alphas a chance to show me exactly where I stand with them.
He reminded me how far I’ve come from the broken woman who fled to Whispering Grove less than two weeks ago.
I lean back against Atlas’s chest, River’s hand warm on my waist, Levi’s fingers gentle in my hair, and smile up at the infinite sky above us.
This is what real happiness feels like.
This is what home feels like.
And no one—not Chad, not anyone—is ever going to take it away from me again.