Chapter 20 Percival #2
“The bond between a lycan and their mate exists in potential until it’s activated,” Solomon continued.
“The thread you feel now? It becomes a full connection. Permanent. Mutual. You’d feel us the way we feel you.
Our emotions, our presence, our physical state.
If one of us is hurt, you’d know. If you’re in danger, we’d know with certainty, not the partial signal we’re getting now. ”
“That sounds useful,” she said. “What’s the catch?”
“It’s activated through claiming. Which is...” I glanced at Lucian. He gave me nothing. Classic. Solomon’s expression was equally unhelpful.
Thanks, brothers.
Might as well bite the bullet.
“Claiming involves a bite. During… intimacy.”
Mira blinked.
“A bite?” she repeated.
“On the neck. It forms a mark. Permanent. It’s the physical seal of the bond.”
“During intimacy?” She raised a brow.
I answered as casually as I could, “Yes.”
Her eyes moved between the three of us again. The wheels turning behind her irises with the visible intensity of putting pieces together.
“And since there are three of you,” she said. “Three separate bonds. Three separate...” She gestured vaguely. “Activations.”
“Correct.”
A pause. A long one.
Mira stared at the coffee table. Stared at her book, at the ceiling. Then her head snapped toward me and her eyes went wide with an expression that was equal parts disbelief, amusement, and alarm.
“So what you’re telling me is that in order to fully activate this magical soul bond, I have to sleep with all three of you? Consecutively?”
The words practically crashed our living room.
Lucian’s jaw locked, a muscle in his cheek twitched.
Solomon went perfectly still, his brain was rebooting.
My own brain had short-circuited somewhere around “sleep with all three of you” and was now producing images I had absolutely no business entertaining in a room full of people with supernatural hearing and scent detection.
All three of us. Her. Consecutively.
Fuck.
The image hit without permission.
Mira between us. Flushed, breathless. The sounds she’d make when... No. Absolutely not.
I shut that door in my mind, locked it, and threw the key into a mental volcano. My blood had already rushed south and I shifted on the couch, crossing my ankle over my knee with what I hoped looked casual and not desperate.
“Not at the same time,” I clarified quickly. Then added, “At first. Unless, you know... If you want to go straight away.”
Her face turned a deep shade of red.
Lucian closed his eyes as the vein in his temple pulsed. Solomon’s nostrils flared, and I knew, I absolutely knew, that every wolf in this room had just caught the spike of arousal that Mira’s question had triggered in all three of us.
The scent was probably suffocating. No wonder she was blushing.
“Oh, well, that’s reassuring, Percy. Not at the same time. Just sequentially. One by one. A roster.” She held up three fingers and ticked them off. “Monday, Wednesday, Friday. Very organized. Very efficient.”
“That’s not...”
“Do I get to pick the order or is there a chain of command? Does the king go first because of seniority?” She turned to Lucian. His expression was carved from granite. “Is there a protocol? Royal decree? Do I need to fill out a form?”
“There’s no form,” Lucian managed.
“Should there be? This seems like a situation that warrants documentation.” She grabbed her book off the coffee table and held it up, the romance novel with a shirtless man on the cover.
“Because I’ve read a lot of these, and not once did the heroine have to schedule three separate magical sex appointments. ”
Solomon made a sound. Quiet. Almost imperceptible.
He was laughing.
His shoulders shook once, his jaw tightened around the ghost of a smile, and his eyes held the particular brightness of losing against his own amusement.
Mira caught it. Her outrage faltered, undermined by the rarest sight in the cabin: Solomon on the verge of actual, audible laughter.
“Are you laughing?” she demanded.
“No.”
“You are. You’re laughing at me.”
“I would never.”
“Your shoulders are shaking!”
“Muscle spasm.”
“From laughing.”
“From a pre-existing condition.”
She turned to me. Her eyes were bright now, the alarm dissolving into the humor underneath, the defense mechanism she deployed when the world got too big and the only way to survive it was to make it funny.
“This is insane,” she said. “You know that, right? This whole situation. Three supernatural men, a magic soul bond, and the activation key is...” She waved her hand in the air. “Intimate claiming bites. This is the plot of one of my books and not even one of the good ones.”
“Which ones are the good ones?” I asked.
“Not the point, Percy.”
She pressed her palms over her face and breathed. When she lowered her hands, the humor had settled into a quieter expression. Still amused, but beneath it, a warmth that made my chest ache.
“The bite.” Her flush deepened. “Does it... is it supposed to feel good? Or is this a pain situation? Because I need to mentally prepare for very different scenarios.”
“It feels good,” Lucian said.
Three words. Delivered in his low, steady voice.
Mira’s blush spread from her cheeks to her throat.
“Great,” she managed. “Cool. Good information.”
She picked up her book and stood. Made it three steps toward the stairs before she stopped to turn back. Her face was crimson but her eyes held steady, and when she spoke, her voice carried the particular calm.
“So. Monday, Wednesday, Friday work for everyone? Or should I draft a rotation schedule?”
Lucian’s composure cracked, actually cracked. His mouth opened and nothing came out.
She held up a finger. “I’ll send calendar invites.”
Then she turned and walked up the stairs without looking back.
I guess the upcoming week will be heated.