Chapter 19 Savannah #2
"What? I'm just saying what we're all thinking.
Logan jumped the gun, but that doesn't mean the game is over.
" His eyes meet mine, and there's something predatory in his gaze that makes heat pool low in my belly despite my anger.
"I mean, I'm next, right? Now that we know she likes them big, and boy am I big. "
"I'm not a toy," I snap, stepping back until I hit the wall. "I'm not something you pass around the pack like a party favor."
"No one said you were," Logan growls, moving to block Griff's path toward me.
"Didn't you?" I look between the three of them, noting the way they're positioning themselves, the territorial tension crackling in the air like electricity before a storm.
"Because that's sure as hell what this feels like.
Logan marks me, Griff calls dibs on being next, and what, Xavier gets the leftovers? "
"That's not what I meant," Griff says, but his voice lacks conviction.
"Isn't it? Because it sounds like you think marking me gives you some kind of claim. Like Logan opened the door and now you all get to walk through."
Xavier pushes his glasses up his nose, a gesture I've learned means he's trying to maintain control. "That's not how pack dynamics work, Griffin."
"Don't lecture me about pack dynamics, Doc. You've been mooning over her for years without doing anything about it. At least Logan had the balls to make a move."
"Making a move and marking someone without consent are two different things," Xavier replies, his voice ice-cold.
"She consented," Logan says, his voice rough. "She wanted it as much as I did."
"Did I?" I ask, and all three of them go still. "Because I don't remember consenting to joining your pack. I remember having sex with you, Logan. Great sex. Mind-blowing sex."
"The bite..."
“We got carried away, and now we're all dealing with the consequences." I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly feeling exposed in ways that have nothing to do with the mark on my neck. "But that doesn't mean I'm yours. Any of yours."
Griff's face darkens, his sandalwood scent going sharp with frustration. "So what, you're just going to pretend it didn't happen? Pretend you don't feel the bond?"
"What I feel is confused. And pressured. And like I'm being treated as a prize instead of a person with her own agency."
"That's not..." Logan starts, but I cut him off.
"Isn't it? You marked me. Griff is already planning his turn like I'm a carnival ride. And Xavier..." I look at the quiet alpha who's been watching this entire exchange with growing horror. "Xavier hasn't said what he wants because he's too polite to join in this pissing contest."
"I want what's best for you," Xavier says quietly. "Which clearly isn't this."
"This?" Griff demands, rounding on him with enough force to make Xavier step back. "What's 'this,' exactly?"
Xavier's composure finally cracks, his voice rising. "She's right. We're treating her like a trophy instead of a person we claim to care about."
"We do care about her," Logan says, but there's uncertainty in his voice now.
"Do you? Because caring about someone means considering their feelings before making life-altering decisions that affect them. It means asking what they want instead of assuming you know." Xavier's mint scent has gone sharp with anger. "It means treating them as an equal partner, not a conquest."
Griff's hands curl into fists, his work boots heavy on the hardwood as he paces. "So what are you saying, Doc? That we should pretend the bite doesn't exist?"
"I'm saying we should have talked about this before any marking happened. All of us. Together."
"When?" Logan demands, running both hands through his hair until it stands up in dark spikes.
“I’m here to plan a wedding. Emma’s. In case you’ve forgotten why I’m here,” I say, my voice rising to match theirs.
"Bullshit," Griff says, stepping closer despite Logan's warning look. "You're here because we never got over you."
I’m not answering nor confirming that, because not only is my head spinning but my stomach is too.
“It doesn't give you the right to make decisions about my body or my future without asking me first."
“True. Savannah. I’m sorry,” Griff says, and then slumps in the chair. Avoiding eye contact and probably embarrassed about his little outburst.
Griff is making progress, no longer leaving takeout all over the place or scattering his building equipment. Yet it all feels too soon. I keep waiting for the real Griff, the one who flirted and then made me feel like an unwanted houseguest, to reappear.
Now my head is pounding, a combination of stress and the wine I consumed with Emma and the overwhelming scent of three frustrated alphas filling the hallway with their competing pheromones.
"I need to go," I say suddenly, pushing off the wall and heading toward the stairs. "I can't do this right now."
"Where are you going?" Logan asks, moving to block my path.
"Emma's. I'm going to stay at Emma's until you three figure out whether you want a pack mate or a possession."
"Savannah, wait..." Xavier says.
"I'll take you," Logan offers, reaching for his keys on the hall table.
Tears I've been holding back for hours start spilling down my cheeks, hot and unwelcome and completely mortifying.
"I didn't mean to cause tension... then again, you weren't exactly a great pack to begin with, but I've fucked up something that was already more fucked up than it was fucked before I got here."
"Savannah..." Xavier steps forward, his voice gentle.
"I'm sorry I let Logan mark me." The words pour out of me like a dam bursting, all the guilt and confusion and self-recrimination I've been carrying since this morning. "I'll finish Emma's wedding and then I'll leave, and you can go back to being a pack without me screwing everything up."
"No," Xavier says firmly, moving closer. "We're sorry. We're the ones who fucked this up, not you."
"Xavier's right," Logan adds, his voice rough with guilt. "This isn't your fault. None of it."
But the stress and alcohol and emotional overload have finally caught up with me. My stomach lurches violently, and I barely have time to turn away before I'm throwing up all over the hardwood floor of their pristine hallway.
"Shit," I gasp between heaves, mortification burning through me like acid. "Oh God, I'm so sorry..."
"Hey, hey, it's okay." Xavier's hands are on my shoulders, holding my hair back as my body continues to betray me. "You're okay. Let it out."
When the worst of it passes, I'm shaking so hard I can barely stand. Xavier's arms come around me, lifting me against his chest like I weigh nothing, and I bury my face in his neck because I can't bear to look at the mess I've made.
"I've got you," he murmurs, his mint and cologne scent wrapping around me like comfort. "I've got you, sweetheart. It's going to be okay."
"Logan, grab some towels from the linen closet," Xavier says, his voice carrying quiet authority. "Griff, there's cleaning supplies under the kitchen sink. We need to get this cleaned up before it stains the wood."
"I'm sorry," I whisper against his throat, tears still streaming down my face. "I'm so sorry about everything."
"Shh. No more apologies. This isn't your fault.
" Xavier's voice is gentle but firm as he carries me toward the stairs.
"You're drunk and overwhelmed and we've been acting like territorial assholes instead of the men you deserve.
Let's get you cleaned up and into bed. We can figure everything else out tomorrow. "
Behind us, I hear the sound of Logan and Griff cleaning up my mess without complaint or accusation. Maybe there's hope for them yet.
But right now, all I can focus on is the steady rhythm of Xavier's heartbeat against my cheek and the way his arms make me feel safe despite everything that's gone wrong.
Right now, I'm just grateful for Xavier's gentle hands and the promise that someone, at least, is willing to take care of me when I fall apart.
Thank you, universe, for turning what should have been a simple conversation about boundaries into me throwing up on their floor while three alphas argue about who gets to claim me next. Clearly, my life needed more chaos and humiliation.