24. Aisling
I hover outside Gunnar’s suite, the sense of Luka and Gunnar thick in the air beyond the door. It’s like a siren call that’s hard to ignore, even though I’m not sure what I’m walking into.
Then the door opens…and I see him.
Gunnar.
He’s changed since last time—he’s changed a hell of a lot since I came into his life at all. He’s got dark circles under his eyes, his beard scruffy, hair mussed. It takes everything in me not to throw myself at him and beg for his forgiveness.
Then I get a look at the room.
The sight that greets me has my stomach dropping to my knees. Luka’s slumped in an armchair, an icepack over a badly bruised face, and Gunnar…he looks like he’s gone ten rounds with a storm. My eyes snap wide at the image of them—two alphas, both wrecked.
By me.
I did this, and I hate myself for it.
“What the hell happened?” The words spill out of me before I can think better of it.
Gunnar lets out a sharp laugh, hollow as a grave, and turns away with a shake of his head. He doesn’t answer, just leaves the door swinging wide for me to come in. I step inside, the heavy scent of alpha pheromones and blood filling my nose. It’s disorienting, this mix of power and pain.
I make a beeline for Luka, ignoring the churning in my gut. He tries to bat me away as I kneel next to him, but I catch his hand—icy cold and trembling slightly.
“Stop it, let me see,” I insist, my voice stronger than the quiver I feel inside.
Luka’s eyes flicker to Gunnar before he lets out a defeated sigh, giving in. His usual bravado is nowhere to be found, and that scares me more than the bruises marring his face.
I glance back at Gunnar, looking for some explanation. My heart hammers against my ribcage waiting for his answer. “Gunnar, talk to me. What did this?”
He takes his time, a predator playing with his prey, his back still turned to me. When he finally faces us, his expression is unreadable. “I kicked his ass down at the bar.” His voice is flat, detached.
My breath catches. “Why?” It’s a whisper, barely loud enough to carry across the tension-filled space.
“Because,” Gunnar starts, and there’s something dangerous flashing in his steel-gray eyes, “he said he raped you while you were on eros in New Eden.”
The words hit like a physical blow, sending a shockwave through me. I can’t help but look at Luka again, searching for some sign of regret, some hint of the man I thought I knew.
But all I find is shame and a second-hand sort of pain that I know is for me, not him.
Silence stretches between us, so thick I could choke on it. Gunnar’s back at the minibar, pouring himself another drink as if we’re discussing something as banal as the weather. The ice clinks against the glass like a warning bell.
I turn to Luka, my voice a whip-crack in the stillness. “I asked you not to tell him.”
Gunnar’s laugh is a short, harsh bark that makes me flinch. Without turning, he tosses the question over his shoulder like a grenade. “Why? Because you like lying to me?”
That gets me on my feet, anger kindling hot and fast inside my chest. “No,” I snap, stalking toward him, “because I knew you’d do something stupid like this. You’d beat the hell out of him.” I gesture back at Luka, who’s watching us with a wary expression, as if we’re a couple of alphas about to lock horns.
“Really?” Gunnar turns fully now, fixing me with a glare that could strip paint from the walls. “You think that little of me?”
“Yes!” The word bursts from me before I can stop it. “I don’t know what to think of you anymore, especially after you sent people to kill me!”
The accusation hangs heavy in the air, and for a moment, Gunnar looks as though I’ve slapped him. His jaw clenches, eyes narrowing into slits, and I know I’ve hit a nerve, maybe drawn blood.
“Is that what you think?” His voice is low, dangerous, and I wonder if I’ve pushed him too far this time. But I’m past caring. Fear and fury make a volatile mix, and right now, I’m full of both.
“Wasn’t me,” Gunnar growls, his voice a low rumble in the tension-soaked room. He shakes his head with a scoff that sounds as rough as gravel under tires. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Those assassins seemed pretty damn sure of themselves,” I shoot back, my voice rising despite my attempt to keep it steady. “They said it loud and clear—that you and Nero want us gone!”
He laughs then, but it’s not a sound that reaches his eyes. It’s cold, dismissive—a sound that says he’s heard too many lies to count them anymore. “Aisling, if I wanted you gone, you’d be gone. No need for theatrics.”
My heart hammers against my ribs like it wants out, and I feel something break inside me—a dam giving way to let all the pent-up hurt come flooding through. “Did I…did Oberon and I ever mean anything to you?” My voice cracks on his name, the name of our packmate who’s been more loyal than shadows—always there, even when I don’t see him. “Or was all that talk about being ‘pack’ just another one of your lies?”
Gunnar goes still, the glass in his hand forgotten. The muscle in his jaw ticks once, twice, as if he’s chewing on his answer before spitting it out.
Suddenly, Gunnar surges to his feet. The room seems to shrink as he looms over me, a mountain of muscle and barely contained fury. My breath hitches; I can feel the raw power rolling off him in waves, crashing against my senses.
“Rich, coming from you,” he growls, each word a slab of concrete laid at my feet. “After all the times you kept me in the dark, Aisling. After every deception you spun around me.”
From the corner of my eye, I catch Luka rising from his chair, a low snarl rumbling in his throat—an animal sound that promises violence to anyone who dares threaten his omega. It’s instinctive, I know, but it still makes heat rise in the pit of my stomach, my whole body aching for just one of them to touch me.
“Look, I—“ My words cut off as Gunnar steps forward, his movements deliberate, predatory. I’m backpedaling before I realize, and suddenly, there’s nowhere left to go. My spine hits a wall of unyielding heat—Luka’s chest. His presence sends a jolt through me, an electric reminder of our unwanted bond.
Time seems to hang in the balance, teetering on the edge of something dangerous. There’s a scent in the air, a mix of their alpha pheromones that winds around me, tightening like a vice.
And I feel it—the onset of my heat—bearing down on me with the unstoppable force of a freight train.
This is bad, bad timing…but I’m already in it, aren’t I?
“Damn it, Aisling, I’m not one of your pawns.” Gunnar’s voice cuts through the haze, sharp and clear.
I swallow hard, trying to cling to sanity as the hormonal cocktail stirs up a storm within me. But it’s no use. Heat licks at my core, flames licking higher with each passing second. I can’t stop the tremble that courses through me or the way my body leans into Luka’s solid form for support.
“Never thought you were,” I manage, my voice barely above a whisper. But it’s lost to the roaring in my ears—the sound of my own body betraying me, succumbing to the primal call of nature.
Gunnar’s frown deepens, a storm brewing in his eyes as he reads the signals my body can’t help but emit. There’s a moment where I think he might just turn and leave, but that thought evaporates as Luka’s hands begin their dance up and down my arms, setting my skin ablaze with every touch.
“Stop,” Gunnar growls, but it’s not an order—it’s a plea, gruff and barely audible.
Luka doesn’t stop; his fingers are insistent, tracing patterns on my flesh that send shivers to my very core. I’m caught between them, and I can’t find it in me to protest—not when every cell in my body is screaming for their touch.
And then Gunnar’s lips are on mine, hard and unyielding.
It’s not gentle. It’s nothing like the tender moments we’ve shared before. This kiss is raw, fueled by weeks of pent-up longing and laced with a desperation that mirrors my own.
“Fuck, Ais,” Gunnar murmurs against my mouth, his breath hot and heavy.
My name has never sounded better than it does on his lips.
I respond instinctively, my lips parting to welcome the invasion of his tongue. It’s a dance of dominance and surrender, and I’m lost in the rhythm, lost to everything but the taste of him—the taste of home, of pain and pleasure mingled together.
Luka’s lips find the vulnerable expanse of my throat, and his teeth graze lightly, sending a jolt straight to my core. My head falls back onto his shoulder, giving him better access, and a soft moan escapes me, betraying the storm of desire raging inside.
“Mine,” Gunnar claims, his voice a rough whisper that ripples through the heated air.
“Yours,” I gasp out, a declaration, a plea, a truth that binds us together in this tangled web of passion and power.
Their hands are everywhere, and I am nothing but sensations—every stroke, every nip, every caress amplified by the heat that threatens to consume me whole. The world narrows down to this room, this moment, these two alphas who hold me suspended between agony and ecstasy.
The heat swells within me, a tidal wave crashing against the shore of my self-restraint. Luka’s voice is a husky whisper in my ear, “You smell like heaven on fire, Ais.”
I can’t help but arch into him, my skin prickling with anticipation. It’s as if every part of me recognizes their claim, their touch setting off sparks that threaten to ignite my entire being.
“Stay still,” Gunnar commands, his hands gripping my dress, hiking it up with an urgency that mirrors the pounding of my heart. His fingers are deft as they rip through the delicate fabric of my panties, shredding them from my body with a roughness that sends a thrill spiraling through me.
“Sorry, Ais,” he doesn’t sound sorry at all, “but these were in the way.”
I barely register the loss of the material before his head dips, and I feel the warm brush of his breath against my most intimate flesh. A sharp gasp escapes my lips as his tongue finds me, painting strokes of pure pleasure that make my knees buckle…and Gunnar is there to catch me, hitching my legs over his shoulders, smoothing his big hands up my thighs.
Luka’s arms are the only thing keeping me upright, his hands sliding under my lifted dress to caress the soft mounds of my breasts. He rolls my nipples between his fingers, tugging them gently, sending jolts of sensation straight to where Gunnar’s mouth works its magic.
“God, you taste even better than you smell,” Gunnar growls from below, his voice vibrating against me, making me shudder. “Keep her steady for me, Luka; I want to hear her sing for us.”
Luka’s grip tightens, one hand possessively cupping my breast while the other snakes around to hold my hip, steadying me as Gunnar devours me with a hunger that’s almost feral. The pleasure spirals tighter, coiling deep within me, and I’m caught between two storms, each one intent on claiming me entirely.
“Please,” I whisper, the single word laced with the intensity of my need.
“Please what, Ais?” Gunnar taunts, his hot breath on my slick skin sending shivers down my spine. “Tell us what you need.”
“More,” I breathe out, my voice hitching as Luka pinches my nipple just right, a perfect counterpoint to the relentless assault of Gunnar’s tongue.
“Fuck, she’s close,” Luka murmurs, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear, his hot breath making me quiver.
“Then let’s give her what she wants,” Gunnar replies, his voice dark with lust.
Their synchrony is devastating, overwhelming, and as the pleasure mounts, I cling to them, lost in the storm of my own heat, barreling headlong into the abyss of ecstasy they offer.
I’m coming.
I’m coming against my mate’s mouth, and Gunnar is rumbling out a feral alpha purr as the room fills with our mingled scents. Luka grasps my breasts like the two of them own me completely, and I thrust my hips against Gunnar’s hips as slick gushes against his lips.
There’s no ceremony between standing here and getting to the bed.
Just…desperation.
There’s a wild urgency in the air, a primal dance of need and desire as my dress is yanked down and discarded onto the floor. The evening air brushes against my heated skin, goosebumps rising in the wake of where fabric once clung.
We collapse onto the bed, limbs entangled, a mess of raw hunger. Gunnar’s dominance surges as Luka tries to assert himself, a low growl emanating from Gunnar’s throat that ricochets through the room. “Eat her out, Luka,” he commands, his voice a guttural command that brooks no argument.
Luka moves without hesitation, his head dipping between my thighs, his tongue finding me with an eagerness that is both relief and torment. I gasp, hands grasping for anything to ground me as the pleasure threatens to sweep me away, hips lifting off the bed.
“Your mouth,” Gunnar demands, positioning himself above me, his erection a hard line against my lips. I open for him, the taste of him—musky and male—filling my senses as he slides into the warmth of my mouth.
I suck, drawing him deeper, eliciting a guttural groan from deep within his chest. It’s a raw sound, filled with the weeks of pent-up longing, the heavy weight of our complicated history. His hips move with a steady rhythm, and I lose myself to the dual sensations, Luka’s mouth on me, Gunnar in my mouth—both giving and receiving, caught in a cycle of insatiable desire.
“Fuck, Aisling,” Luka groans, his words muffled against me, his fingers digging into my flesh as he works me with his mouth, pushing me closer to that edge.
“Good girl,” Gunnar praises, his voice strained, and I feel a shiver of satisfaction at the approval in his tone. They want me—it’s undeniable—and in this tangled mess of bodies and passion, I forget everything but the need to be consumed by them, to consume them in turn.
Caught between two alphas, each intent on staking their claim, I’m a conduit for their desire, a vessel for their need.
“Move,” Gunnar suddenly grunts to Luka, his voice commanding.
I feel a brief loss of warmth as Luka withdraws, and then Gunnar’s hands are on me, flipping me with an ease that speaks of his inhuman strength. I’m on my stomach now, the plushness of the bed beneath me, and Gunnar is there, aligning himself at my entrance. The heat from his body radiates onto my skin, his presence enormous and unavoidable. He’s an alpha in every sense—the power, the intensity, the raw sexuality that emanates from him.
“Get in front,” he instructs Luka, voice thick with lust.
This…this is how it should have been the first time.
Gunnar calling the shots.
My alpha.
Luka complies, moving to kneel by my head, his eyes locked onto mine. There’s a silent question in his gaze, a searching for permission or perhaps forgiveness for earlier transgressions. In this moment, stripped down to nothing but primal need, I give him what he seeks, nodding slightly, granting him absolution in our shared hunger.
Gunnar doesn’t wait; he pushes inside me in one smooth, powerful thrust, filling me completely. A gasp rips from my throat, not just from the sheer pleasure-pain of his size but also from the overwhelming sensation of rightness. Despite everything, this is where I belong—between these two alphas, claimed and cherished.
“Look at her,” Gunnar commands Luka. “She’s ours.”
The word sends a thrill through me, a reminder of the bond we share, however fraught it might be. And as Gunnar starts to move, each stroke driving deeper, the friction building a fire within me, I know that I am irrevocably tied to these men, to their fates, to their desires.
My mouth opens in a pleasured sob, and Luka is here to fill it, his cock sliding over my tongue and deep into my throat.
I’m lost in a whirlwind of sensation, every nerve ending alight with pleasure. Gunnar’s thrusts are relentless, each one sending a jolt of raw need coursing through me. Luka matches his rhythm, his hips rolling forward as he fucks my mouth.
“Please,” I gasp out when I can, my voice muffled by Luka’s flesh. “Gunnar, please…”
“Please what, Aisling?” Gunnar growls against my ear, his hands gripping my hips, anchoring me to him. His tone is rough, edged with the remnants of anger and an undeniable lust.
“Knot me,” I beg, the words slipping out between thrusts. “You’re my alpha. Please…fill me.”
There’s a pause, then Gunnar’s pace quickens, his grip tightening. “Say it again.”
Luka pulls back, lets me talk…waiting for me to give Gunnar what he wants.
“Please, alpha…Gunnar,” I plead, my body trembling on the edge of something fierce and overwhelming. “Knot me. Claim me.”
His hand comes down hard on my ass, like a punishment. The sting feels good, though, making me clench around his thick cock. I gasp and shudder, and Luka takes my face in his hands, making me stay up on all fours.
“Again,” Gunnar growls. “Tell me, Aisling.”
“I’m yours, Gunnar,” I practically sob, needing his knot. “Always…always…”
That does the trick.
With a snarl of possession, Gunnar pushes deep, his knot swelling at the base of his cock, locking him inside me. It’s a rush of heat, of pressure, of an indescribable fullness that sends me spiraling into ecstasy.
“Mine,” Gunnar declares, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through my entire being.
“Yours,” I affirm, my mind fracturing as my heat flares out of control, pleasure consuming me in a blazing inferno.
Then Luka is sliding back into my throat, tugging on my hair, making me look at him with my mouth full of his cock. Gunnar rolls his hips, moving inside me, clutching my hips with strong hands.
And me?
I’m lost in them both.
Luka’s movements become erratic, desperate, as if driven to madness by the scent of our fucking. My senses are filled with the musk of alpha pheromones, the taste of Luka, the sound of our ragged breaths mingling with the slap of flesh on flesh.
“Fuck, Aisling, your mouth…” Luka groans above me, his grip in my hair unrelenting. “You’re gonna make me come…”
“Wait your turn,” Gunnar pants behind me, his thrusts becoming more forceful. Each push sends me further into a delirium, where only their touch and the overwhelming blaze of the heat exist.
“Can’t hold back…” Luka’s voice fractures, the strain evident.
“Shit,” Gunnar curses as he feels my walls start to flutter around him. “Now, Aisling, come for me, now!”
The command detonates something primal within me. My body obeys before my mind can process the order, convulsing in a cataclysmic orgasm that rips through me. My vision whites out; all I know is the violent pulse of my climax, echoed by the throbbing of Gunnar’s knot, expanding further, locking us together in an unbreakable bond.
Luka shudders, his release hot and heavy, filling my mouth as he holds me there. The taste of him, bitter and potent, sends another shockwave through my quaking body.
“Good girl,” Gunnar praises darkly, his own crescendo washing over me in searing waves. He keeps moving, riding out both our climaxes, drawing every last shudder from my spent frame.
I collapse between them, a tangle of limbs and labored breaths. Gunnar’s chest is heaving against my back, his heart hammering like it’s trying to escape. Luka gently pulls away, his thumb caressing my swollen lips.
But I want more.
I can already feel my body rallying for round two, eager to get as much as I can. I need Gunnar to stay locked inside…I need Oberon, I need Luka.
I need to be fucked for days, politics be damned.
Luka gets up and looks down at me, and I reach for him desperately even as Gunnar rolls me onto my stomach, pinning me. He fucks slowly into me, hips rolling relentlessly, and I barely hear their words as I give myself over to the raw need of my heat.
“She’s in heat…”
“…what do we do with her?”
Gunnar’s voice is the last one I hear. “Call Oberon to get her booked at the heat spa,” he growls. “We’re gonna fuck her until we’ve figured this out.”