Chapter 25
twenty-five
KITANIA
They were bluffing. I could feel it.
I studied my cards, trying to keep my expression neutral despite the decent hand I’d been dealt. Across from me, Dimitri’s dark eyes gave nothing away—his face a mask of cold calculation, unreadable as ever. Tommy sat to my right, dimples flashing as he teased Marco about his pathetic poker face. And Gio lounged to my left, one arm slung across the back of my chair, radiating warmth and confidence, like he already knew how the hand would play out.
It was peaceful. Easy. A rare slice of normal.
Until it wasn’t—until something shifted.
A slow bloom of warmth curled low in my belly, subtle at first, soft enough I almost missed it.
“Your bet, kitten,” Dimitri prompted in that low rumble that usually made my stomach flutter. Today, it seemed to resonate deeper, vibrating through me in a way that felt different. New. More …
Shifting in my seat, I tossed a few chips into the center. “Call.”
Marco snorted, tapping his fingers against the table. “Bold move for someone holding garbage.”
“You don’t know what I’m holding,” I countered, trying to hold on to my elusiveness, though my focus had already begun to drift.
Was it just me, or was the air in here stifling? I resisted the urge to tug at the neckline of my t-shirt, where a bead of sweat had formed at the hollow of my throat.
“Oh, but I do,” Marco grinned, leaning forward with that dangerous glint in his eyes. “Your left eyebrow twitches when you’re bluffing.”
Tommy laughed, the sound bright and easy. “Like you’re one to talk. You practically broadcast your hand to the room. You’re always moving, always fidgeting, but you go still when you’ve got good cards in your hand.”
I should have laughed too, joined in their familiar banter. Instead, I found myself staring at the cards, the symbols blurring slightly as a strange prickle traveled up my spine. My skin felt too tight suddenly, like it didn’t fit quite right.
“Kit?” Tommy’s voice cut through my thoughts. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I nodded, trying to focus. “Just thinking.”
But the warmth was spreading now, diffusing through my limbs like molasses, slow and sweet. Impossible to ignore. My heart picked up its pace, thudding against my ribs as though trying to escape.
I barely registered the end of the hand—though I’d lost—and the start of the next. I went through the motions, picking up cards, arranging them, not even seeing what I was holding.
I couldn’t care less about the numbers or the suits. All I wanted was to fan myself with the damn things. One more surge and I’d be sticking my head in the freezer.
Dimitri’s eyes lingered on me longer than usual. I felt his gaze like a physical touch, raising goosebumps along my arms. When I glanced up, his expression had shifted subtly—brows drawn together, nostrils flared slightly. Something unsettling and thrilling coiled in my belly at the intensity of his stare.
The next wave hit without warning, this time accompanied by a tight, hot cramp that seized my lower abdomen. I inhaled sharply, my fingers clenching around my cards, knuckles whitening. The discomfort passed in seconds, but left behind a hollow ache in its wake.
“I...” The word came out breathier than I’d intended, barely audible. I cleared my throat and tried again. “I think I need some water.”
Before I could move, a second cramp twisted through me, stronger than the first. I bit my lip, stifling a whimper. The cards slipped from my grasp, scattering across the table. The movement sent my scent wafting into the air—and in that moment, I knew.
My heat. After days of waiting, wondering, preparing—it was finally here.
Dimitri was on his feet so quickly his chair nearly toppled backward.
“Kitten.”
My name dropped from his lips—commanding, possessive, and unmistakably Alpha. His pupils blew wide, dark chocolate irises nearly swallowed by black. He inhaled deeply, slow and deliberate... and let out the sexiest fucking groan I’d ever heard.
My breath hitched. A shiver rolled down my spine, sharp and sudden, as if my body had been waiting for his voice to drop just like that. Heat pulsed low in my belly, tightening everything inside me.
The rest of the room seemed to freeze, the mood shifting instantly.
Marco set his cards down slowly, brows lifting in silent understanding. Tommy’s smirk vanished, replaced by something sharper—focused, alert. And Gio... Gio leaned forward in his chair like he was being pulled toward me, every muscle in his body going taut.
They felt it too.
They scented it.
My perfume.
Me .
I watched them through increasingly hazy vision, my skin flushing hot, then cold, then hot again. The room felt airless, my clothes suddenly abrasive against my hypersensitive skin. I wanted to tear them off, to cool down, to—I didn’t even know what I wanted anymore. Just that I wanted .
“I think—” I started, then stopped as another wave rolled through me, stronger this time, stealing my breath.
“Your heat,” Dimitri finished for me—those two words rough-edged and primal.
I nodded, unable to form words as reality crashed over me. After all the planning, all the warning signs, it was real. It was happening. And my body wasn’t asking—it was demanding. It called out to my mates, and they were responding in kind.
Dimitri moved first, striding to the security panel near the entryway. His fingers flew over the keypad in a practiced sequence. A series of mechanical clicks echoed through the penthouse as reinforced locks engaged. Privacy screens whirred down over the windows, dimming the space to a warm, dusky glow.
“No one in, no one out without permission,” he muttered—more to himself than to us.
The muscles in his back flexed beneath his shirt as he worked, smooth and deliberate. Even through the thickening haze of my heat, I couldn’t stop watching him. I could feel his mind working—calculating time frames, rearranging priorities, locking down our sanctuary like the leader he was.
Gio pulled out his phone and headed for the kitchen, jaw tight. “Joey, we’re going dark for the next week,” he said, voice clipped. “Yeah. Excellent. Thanks.” He hung up without waiting for more, his gaze snapping back to me across the room. The hunger in his eyes stole the breath from my lungs.
Marco vanished down the hall and returned moments later with his arms full—water bottles, protein bars, towels. He moved with sharp efficiency, no trace of his usual laid-back swagger. I caught snatches of what he was muttering under his breath: “clean sheets… extra meds… nest-safe snacks…” as he gathered what we’d need for the long stretch ahead.
None of them panicked. There was no chaos. No frantic energy.
It was a quiet, practiced storm—calm, capable, already in motion before I could ask for anything.
They’d been ready for this.
Maybe even longer than I had.
Another cramp hit—sharper than the last—ripping a small gasp from my lips.
The sound cut through the room like a blade. All four of them stilled, heads snapping toward me, nostrils flaring as my scent thickened in the air. It had turned sweeter, richer, decadent enough to draw every Alpha in the room to attention, but underneath, some of the notes had gone sour from pain.
Tommy was already moving.
He reached me first, hands steady as he helped me to my feet. I wobbled, knees buckling, but he caught me easily. His palm settled at the small of my back, heat bleeding through my shirt, sparking along my nerves.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured.
His voice was rougher now—gravel and restraint—but his touch was gentle, grounding me even as my body threatened to spiral.
In one smooth motion, he scooped me into his arms and cradled me tight against his chest.
The edges of the world blurred. Sounds muffled. Light dimmed. All that remained was Tommy—his scent, his warmth, the way his arms locked around me like nothing could ever touch me while he held me like this.
“Let’s get you upstairs,” he said, his breath brushing against my temple.
I nodded, clinging to him, needing the movement, needing him.
Each step up the staircase sent jolts of sensation ricocheting through me. I was soaked already, my thighs sticky, body aching, pussy needy. I whimpered, pressing closer to him, unable to hide it.
“You’re doing so well, Butterfly.” His usual timbre dipped into a low, praise-laced rasp. “Just hold on a little longer. Let me take care of you.”
The bedroom felt too far away. By the time we reached it, my clothes clung to my sweat-dampened skin, my breath coming in short, shallow pants. Tommy led me straight to the bathroom, his movements purposeful despite the obvious effect my scent was having on him. His pupils had dilated until only a thin ring of green remained, a flush high on his cheekbones betraying his arousal.
He turned on the shower, adjusting the temperature with care. “Not too hot,” he explained, seeing my puzzled expression. “Your body temperature is already elevated.”
I’d have protested on any other day—I loved my showers scalding—but the thought of cool water on my feverish skin sounded like heaven. Tommy undressed me with the kind of careful precision that screamed control over craving—but I still saw the way his fingers shook. The way his gaze dragged across every newly bared inch like he was memorizing me. And when his knuckles brushed my ribs, feather-light, I swore I felt it everywhere .
Cool air kissed my naked flesh, providing momentary relief before another wave of heat crashed through me. I whimpered, leaning heavily against Tommy as my knees shook once more.
“I’ve got you,” he repeated, stripping off his own clothes and helping me into the shower.
The tepid water cascaded over us both, and I sighed in relief. Tommy held me securely against his chest, one arm around my waist, the other stroking soothingly down my back. I sagged against him, trusting him completely to keep me upright as the water washed away the initial haze, leaving behind a clearer, more focused kind of need.
“Tommy,” I breathed, turning in his arms to face him. Water beaded on his eyelashes, ran in rivulets down the chiseled planes of his chest, then down over the scar left behind on his abdomen. I pressed closer, seeking his warmth despite the fire already burning inside me.
His hands settled on my hips, steadying rather than restraining. “What do you need, Kit?” he asked, his voice strained with the effort of maintaining control.
“Touch me,” I pleaded, past caring about pride or composure. “Please.”
My Alpha’s eyes darkened further, but his touch remained gentle as his hands skimmed up my sides to cup my face. “Your wish is my command.”
And then there were no more words.
His mouth crashed into mine.
There was nothing gentle about it—no careful testing of boundaries, no slow build. His lips were hot and demanding, tongue sweeping into my mouth like he had every right to be there. I melted into him, hands fisting in his wet hair as he pressed me back against the cool tile wall. His chest heaved against mine, water pouring between us, but I barely noticed. All I could feel was him. His mouth. His hands. His cock.
The way he tasted like heat and hunger and home.
He broke the kiss with a low growl, his breath ragged.
“Turn around.” The command was quiet and certain, like a switch had flipped and all that was left was instinct and control. This was Tommy—the Alpha—here to play, to please, to possess . “Hands on the wall, Butterfly.”
I obeyed without question, pressing my palms flat against the cool tile. My legs trembled. My nipples brushed the slick surface. My body was already trembling with need, but the second I felt him step in behind me, my breath caught.
His hand slid around my hip and dipped between my thighs, fingers parting me with practiced ease. His other hand came up to grip my waist, anchoring me in place.
“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he rasped. “Absolutely dripping . Is this all for me, pretty girl?”
I whimpered, nodding, hips pushing back instinctively.
He circled my clit with the tip of his finger—slow and steady and maddeningly light. My hips jerked at the contact, but he held me firm, murmuring something low I couldn’t quite make out over the pounding of my pulse and the sound of the water. His free hand moved to my stomach, palm splayed wide and possessive. He leaned in close, hard chest pressed to my back, lips brushing the shell of my ear.
“Feel that?” he whispered, dragging that same teasing fingertip down, barely dipping inside me before sliding back up. “This sweet little pussy’s begging, and we haven’t even started.”
His touch was slow, unhurried, savoring . Every pass of his fingers sent another pulse of heat crashing through me, a steady drag of friction that left me dizzy.
My moan echoed against the tile, high and helpless, as his thumb teased my clit in slow, deliberate circles. Every nerve felt raw and oversensitive, every pass of his fingers winding me tighter, driving me toward that invisible cliff.
“That’s it,” he murmured. “Let me make it better.”
I felt him shift behind me, and then he was on his knees. The new position gave him the perfect angel and leverage to slide his fingers inside me—two long, talented fingers. The stretch was delicious, and when he stroked into me, curling them just right, I mewled.
He kissed the curve of my ass—slow and hot—his teeth grazing my skin before biting down, just hard enough to make me gasp.
“Fuck,” I whimpered, knees buckling as the sting bloomed into something molten.
“Fuck yeah,” he growled, sounding far too pleased with himself. “Pretty sure that’s gonna bruise, Butterfly.”
He paused, then his voice dropped lower—filthier.
“You have no idea how hot it is, knowing you’re wearing my mark. Can’t wait to give you the real one. To sink my teeth into your pretty neck and make you mine. My Omega.”
“Please! Yes! Bite me now!” I was half out of my mind with need.
“Not yet, Butterfly. But soon. So fuckin’ soon.”
And though he didn’t bite me, he did fuck me harder—his fingers thrusting in and out, relentless, coaxing more pleasure from my oversensitive body. He hit that spot inside me with practiced precision, the one that made me see stars every single time.
My pussy fluttered around him, clenching. Greedy. Desperate for more. More stretch. More friction. Just… more .
The wet sounds of my slick, the soft grunt of his breath, the coolness of the water still pouring over us—it was all too much. Too good. My body locked up tight, and then shattered .
I came hard, a cry ripping from my throat as pleasure hit like a wave—hot, staggering, all-consuming. My hands scrambled for purchase against the polished tile, thighs trembling as I fell apart, held steady only by the strength of the man behind me.
The ache eased. The fire dulled—not gone, not even close—but tempered for now.
Tommy rose slowly behind me, pressing a kiss to the back of my neck, his breath ragged against my skin.
“That’s my good Omega.”
I panted, chest heaving, my forehead resting against the cool tile. I could feel the aftershocks still trembling through my limbs when I caught movement in the doorway.
Through the fogged glass, I saw him—Dimitri. Tall. Still. Watching.
“Nest’s ready,” he rasped more than spoke. “Whenever she is.”
Tommy reached behind me to shut off the water, then opened the shower door. Dimitri stepped forward, helping him wrap me in a thick towel. The second the fabric touched my skin, another cramp hit—sharper this time. Hungrier. I gasped, curling slightly as it rolled through me.
This small release? It had just taken the edge off.
The real heat was still building. Still tightening its grip.
And God help me... I wanted to drown in it.
The thought of how much sex I was about to have should’ve overwhelmed me, but instead, it made my mouth water. I wanted to be ruined. I welcomed the destruction. My Alphas were going to wreck me completely... and I couldn’t fucking wait.
Tommy leaned in again, lips brushing the shell of my ear.
“One down,” he whispered, sinful and smug. “A million more to go.”