9. Brookes #2
"What happens if I say yes?" I finally say, my voice barely above a whisper, fragile with hope I'm afraid to fully embrace.
"We go slow," Dante says, his voice a rumble I can almost feel through his fingertips. "At your pace, not ours."
"We take care of you," Hero adds, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "And you take care of us too. This is about balance."
"We want to love you, if you will let us," Levi says, simply. His dimples appear with his gentle smile. Like it's the easiest truth in the world. Like loving me isn't complicated or difficult or a burden. Like I'm worth it.
Something in me breaks open then. Quietly. Without fuss. I surrender. Not with a dramatic gesture or proclamation but with the gentle release of everything I've held tight inside me for so long.
I lean toward Dante first, because he's closest. He's stiff with surprise for half a second when I press my lips to his, soft and tentative.
His stubble grazes my skin, sending tiny electric currents dancing across my chin.
Then his hand comes up to cradle my cheek, fingers splayed against my jawline, and he kisses me back, slow and reverent.
No urgency. Just feeling. His tongue traces the seam of my lips, asking rather than demanding, and I open for him with a small sound I didn't know I could make.
When I pull away, lips tingling in a good way my chest heaves slightly.
I taste him on me, spice and warmth. Levi's fingers are in my curls now, massaging my scalp with gentle pressure that makes me want to arch into his touch like a pleased cat.
Hero is brushing the back of my hand with his knuckles, tracing invisible patterns with a promise of more.
"I'm scared," I whisper, vulnerability raw in my voice, as my defenses finally lower completely.
"We are, too," Hero replies, his voice rough with emotion. "That's how you know it's real." His pupils are dilated, the hazel of his eyes almost consumed by black.
So, I let them hold me. Let myself be held for once.
I sink against Levi, allowing my weight to be supported fully, his arms crossing my torso.
His scent, cedar and something distinctly him envelops me.
Dante wraps his arm around my legs and lifts them into his lap, allowing me to spread out between the two of them.
His fingers, kneading and massaging my calves, relaxing me further.
Hero rests a hand on my thigh, warm and steady, his thumb tracing circles that spread heat through my body even through the fabric of my pants.
For the first time in a long time, I don't feel like something broken waiting to be fixed. I don't feel the need to hide behind carefully constructed walls or manufactured smiles.
I feel wanted. Deeply, thoroughly, for exactly who I am.
I feel whole. Not because they complete me, but because they see me complete already.
These three magnificent, complicated men feel like mine, and I feel like theirs.
"I've never done this before," I admit after several long minutes of just breathing them in. Letting their scents mix with mine, cedarwood, sandalwood, vanilla all swirling around the roses of my own. The combination is intoxicating. “I've never done the whole. . .multiple Alphas thing."
Dante's fingers continue to work their magic, tracing soothing circles up and down my legs, his touch featherlight but grounding. Each movement sends ripples of warmth through my spine.
"Neither have we," he says quietly.
"Really?" I ask, adjusting my back slightly against Levi, to face him fully so I can search his face for any hint of deception. Those green eyes, always so certain, so steady, meet mine with unexpected vulnerability. "Never?"
"Not like this," Hero says, his voice a low rumble. "Not all together."
Tilting my head back, I look at Levi, then Dante and Hero, taking my time to study each face, Dante's controlled intensity, Hero's quiet awareness, and Levi's open affection. Three different men, three different ways of showing care. "So, this is new for all of us."
Levi nods, his warm vanilla scent wrapping around me like a cozy warm hug, familiar and comforting. "Yes. But we can figure out the pack thing together. This is uniquely ours."
Ours . The word echoes in my chest like a struck bell. Not borrowed, not temporary, not conditional. Ours. Mine. Theirs. A belonging I've craved but never allowed myself to trust.
"What about work?" I ask, because practicality has kept me alive this long. Self-preservation kicks in, even now. "The whole bodyguard situation."
Dante's expression turns serious, that familiar focused look that means he's already considered every angle. "We've already talked to Dez about it."
My eyebrows shoot up and something defensive flares in me. "You told Dez that you want to be my pack? My Alphas? Before telling me?" The thought of being discussed, decided upon without my knowledge, scrapes against old wounds.
"No," Hero cuts in quickly, leaning forward, his eyes intent on mine. "We told him that our relationship with you had evolved beyond a professional capacity and we needed guidance on how to proceed."
"Very diplomatic," I murmur, but there's no bite to it. I recognize the care they took, the respect for my agency in this delicate dance between us.
"We're staying on as your security detail," Dante continues, his fingers now splayed protectively against my hip. "None of us trust anyone else to take care of you but us. You're ours to protect."
Something tightens in my chest, a knot of longing and fear. "So, I won't lose you? When I travel or work?" The question comes out more vulnerable than I intended, revealing the hidden fear that this connection might be situational, might evaporate when circumstances change.
"No," Levi confirms, his arm wrapping slightly tighter around me, steadying. "We will be more. . .whatever you want us to be."
"Partners," Hero suggests, the word deliberate, respectful.
"Boyfriends," Dante adds, looking like the word feels foreign in his mouth, but determined to offer it anyway.
"Pack," Levi says simply, with a certainty that steals my breath.
That last one makes my breath catch, striking something primal and hungry inside me. A word loaded with meaning, with family, with permanence, with bone-deep belonging.
"I haven't had a pack since I was sixteen," I whisper. My fingers fidget with the hem of my hoodie, an old nervous habit. "Not since my family."
It's the first time I've admitted it out loud.
The ache of that loss, of being cast out when I presented as Omega instead of the Alpha my parents expected.
Of being told I was defective, wrong, unwanted.
Sixteen years old and suddenly packless, familyless, identityless.
My designation that made me ‘less than’ in their eyes.
Hero leans forward, taking my hands in his. His touch is gentle but firm. "You have one now. If you want it." The sincerity in his voice makes my chest ache with something dangerously close to hope.
I swallow hard, feeling the familiar tightness in my throat that comes before tears. I refuse to cry. Not now. "And if it doesn't work? If I—" I can't finish the thought, the words sticking like thorns.
"If you what, Brookes?" Dante presses gently, his cedarwood scent deepening as he moves closer, his eyes searching my face with an intensity that makes me want to both hide and be seen completely.
"If I'm too much," I finally say, voice barely audible, the confession scraping my throat raw.
"Too needy. Too damaged. Too. . .me." The words hang in the air for a moment, my greatest fear exposed like an open wound.
I've spent years crafting the perfect facade, witty, polished, untouchable.
Beneath it all, this is what terrifies me: that when people see the real me, they leave.
Everyone except Charlotte, but the rest. . .
Levi tips my chin up so I can look up at him directly. His brown eyes are bottomless, filled with a certainty that seems unshakable. The constellation of Aries on his arm shifts as he adjusts his position, stars realigning. His warm vanilla scent envelops me, comforting and steady.
"You," he says firmly, each word deliberate and weighted, "are exactly enough. Not too much. Not too little. We want you exactly as you are."
"Damaged parts included," Dante adds, the corner of his mouth lifting in that rare almost-smile that transforms his usually stern face. His fingers trace a pattern against my hip.
"We all have them," Hero says, his voice soft but steady. "Scars. Fears. Nightmares. None of us are coming to this undamaged, Brookes." The way he says my name, like it's something precious, makes my heart stutter.
I look at each of them in turn, really look at them beyond their imposing Alpha exteriors.
Dante with his rigid control, born from a failure he's never fully explained, but that sometimes haunts his eyes when he thinks no one is watching.
Hero with his watchful eyes, always calculating risks, always planning escape routes, always positioned between me and the nearest exit.
Levi with his gentle touch that sometimes trembles with the effort of restraining his Alpha instincts, the way he holds himself back as if afraid his strength might somehow hurt rather than heal.
They're right. We're all carrying something. Broken pieces that somehow might fit together into something whole.
"So, we just what? Figure it out as we go?" I ask, a hint of my usual snark returning, a defense mechanism I can't quite shed even now. My fingers fidget with the hem of my hoodie again, betraying the nervousness beneath my attempted casualness.
Dante actually smiles now, a real one that transforms his entire face. "Pretty much." The simplicity of his answer is somehow more reassuring than any elaborate promise could be.
"Day by day," Hero agrees, his thumb tracing gentle circles on the back of my hand.
"Together," Levi adds, the word carrying the weight of a vow. His eyes never leave mine, steady and unwavering.
I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with their mingled scents, cedarwood, sandalwood, and vanilla—creating something new.
Something that already feels like home. I close my eyes for a moment and ground myself in their comforting presence and free fall into this newness, this terrifying, beautiful possibility.
"Okay," I say finally, nodding. "I'm in." The words feel momentous, like stepping off a cliff and finding wings instead of falling.
The tension that had been humming beneath their calm exteriors visibly releases.
Dante's shoulders drop a fraction, a tightness I hadn't even realized was there suddenly gone.
Hero's breath comes out in a rush, stirring the air between us.
Levi's smile blooms slow and sweet, dimples reappearing in full force, making him look younger, unburdened.
"Really?" Dante asks, like he needs to be sure, like he can't quite believe I've agreed. His fingers tighten slightly on my hip, as if afraid I might slip away.
"Yes," I reply, more firmly this time, finding strength in their belief, even when mine wavers. "But fair warning, I'm high maintenance and I have no idea what I'm doing." I gesture vaguely at myself.
Hero laughs, the sound warm and rich, unexpected from someone usually so reserved. "We noticed the high maintenance part." His eyes crinkle at the corners, softening his usually intense gaze.
"Hey!" I swat at him, feigning offense, but I'm grinning despite myself. The familiar banter feels like solid ground beneath my feet.
"And none of us know what we're doing either," Levi adds, tugging me closer until I'm practically in his lap, his solid warmth against my back. "But we're good at figuring things out." The confidence in his voice makes it sound like a fact rather than wishful thinking.
I settle against him, feeling Dante's hand slide down my leg to rest on my feet, Hero's hands still holding mine. Their bodies form a protective circle around me, not caging but sheltering.
"So," I say after a moment, unable to resist testing this new reality, "does this mean I get three good morning kisses now? Because if so, I'm definitely getting the better end of this deal." I arch an eyebrow, my sass a familiar shield even as vulnerability lingers beneath.
Their laughter surrounds me, three distinct sounds blending into something harmonious.
Dante's low chuckle, Hero's warm rumble, Levi's full-bodied laugh that I can feel vibrating through his chest against my back.
For once, I don't feel the need to build my walls back up. Not with them. Not anymore.
I'm still scared, terrified, if I'm being honest. The weight of past rejections and betrayals hasn't magically disappeared, but for the first time in forever, fear doesn't feel like a warning to run away.
It feels like the start of something worth staying for.