Chapter 13 Peyton
PEYTON
“Kiss me?”
The request hung in the lemon-scented air between us, fragile as spun sugar.
Theo was trembling. I could feel the vibrations of it where my chest pressed against his, a nervous flutter like a trapped bird. But he lifted his chin, his hazel eyes wide and defiant. Terror gripped him, but he was choosing to jump anyway.
God, that made me want him.
I didn’t rush. I couldn’t. This wasn’t just a kiss; it was a contract. It was the first seal on a deal we were making with our bodies because our brains hadn’t quite caught up yet.
I reached up, cupping his face. His skin was hot, fever-bright from the encroaching heat. The stubble on his jaw was darker than Dalton’s, a little rougher against my palm.
“Are you sure?” I murmured, giving him one last chance to bolt.
“Yes,” he whispered.
I leaned in, closing the distance.
The first touch of our lips wasn’t an explosion. It was a grounding.
His lips were soft, hesitant, pressed tight together in a nervous line. I kept mine still, waiting, letting him adjust to the contact. I felt the moment he decided to trust me. His breath hitched, his shoulders dropped, and his mouth softened, parting just enough to let me in.
I took the invitation.
I tasted mint and chocolate—the lingering flavor of his anxiety snacks—and underneath that, the sweet, rich taste of omega. It hit my alpha senses like a shot of whiskey, burning and brilliant. My hands tightened on him, pulling him closer, needing more friction, more contact.
A low sound rumbled in my chest, instinctive and possessive.
Theo gasped into my mouth, his hands coming up to clutch at my shirt. He wasn’t passive. He was learning, following my lead, his tongue tentatively meeting mine. It was clumsy and incredibly earnest, and it made my heart ache in a way I hadn’t expected.
When I pulled back, we were both breathless. Theo’s eyes had blown wide, dazed and dark with dilated pupils.
“Wow,” he breathed.
I smiled, brushing my thumb over his wet lip. “Yeah. Wow.”
Then I shifted, turning him slightly in my arms until he was facing Dalton.
Dalton was watching us, his expression unreadable. He looked like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop—for me to push him away, or for Theo to realize he didn’t want a beta.
“Your turn,” I said softly to Dalton.
Dalton froze. “Peyton, I…”
“He wants you too, Dalt. Look at him.”
Dalton looked. Theo was watching him with that same wide-eyed intensity, his lips swollen from my kiss, his chest heaving.
“Theo?” Dalton asked, his voice rough.
Theo didn’t speak. He just reached out, grabbing Dalton’s t-shirt and yanking him forward.
I watched.
Part of me—the primal, possessive Alpha part—bristled. That’s mine.
But then Dalton kissed him. And Theo kissed him back.
And the bristle smoothed out.
Seeing them together—my beta, who thought he wasn’t enough, and my omega, who thought he possessed broken parts—didn’t feel like losing something. It felt like finding something. It felt like the circuit finally closing, the current flowing freely between all three points.
Dalton’s hands came up to frame Theo’s face, tender and reverent. Theo leaned into him, melting in a way he hadn’t quite done with me. With me, overwhelm consumed him. With Dalton, he felt safe.
They fit.
When they broke apart, Dalton looked wrecked. His eyes were shiny, his face flushed. He looked at me, fear and wonder warring in his gaze.
I reached out, snagging Dalton’s neck and pulling him in for a hard, claiming kiss. I needed him to know. You aren’t replaced. You’re just expanded.
“Mine,” I growled against his mouth. “Both of you.”
“Is it always like that?” Theo asked, his voice shaking.
We both looked at him. He was leaning against the back of the couch, looking thoroughly kissed and utterly bewildered.
“Like what?” Dalton asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Like… lightning,” Theo whispered. “Like hitting a high score you didn’t know existed.”
I laughed, the sound bubbling up from a place of pure relief. “Only with the right people, Theo. Only with the right people.”
Theo looked at us, his gaze sharpening. The daze faded, replaced by that stubborn glint I was starting to recognize.
“Okay,” he said, pushing off the couch. “Okay. I don’t know the rules. I don’t know what I’m doing. But I know I want that again.”
“Good,” I said, stepping forward to close the circle. “Because we’re just getting started.”