Chapter 6
Silas recognized the tears as emotional. Sure, there was plenty of physical reason for them, but this was an emotional release, emotional pain.
Not unusual after this kind of scene, everything just spilling out when someone finally gets what they’ve been starving for.
She’d been holding herself together through a breakup, through family pressure, through months of trying to make vanilla work.
He felt like there was more, too, but what he knew was more than enough to explain a post-scene emotional disintegration.
It was their job to give her a safe space to fall apart.
“Quick,” he said. “Get her loose.”
Kenny jumped into action, and Silas pulled her into his arms as soon as she was free. The bedroom had a loveseat, and he walked to it and sat with her, cradling her to his chest.
“I have you. Let it out. You’re good. Crying’s good. Whatever it takes. I have you.”
He heard Boone in the shower, saw Kenny return with a washcloth, but he shook his head and telepathed, Not yet. She needs the tears. Do we want to put her in a lukewarm tub to soak, or take her to the hot tub?
If we had Epsom salts, the bathtub, but since we don’t, the hot tub can work, and the view outside might calm her inner hawk, and that’ll help the woman find her center again.
The level of grief coming from her was intense, but Silas could sense when she worked through whatever was twisting in her head, exhaustion taking over.
When her tears slowed, he stood with her, walked through the door to the balcony when Kenny opened it, and climbed into the tub with her still in his arms. Kenny got in, took her from him, and settled onto one of the chairs, careful to keep her head above water.
Boone took the lounger, and Silas sat in another seat.
“You want to talk about it?” Kenny asked, his voice that same quiet calm they’d all come to respect.
A deep, cleansing breath, and her voice was surprisingly steady. “I’m not sure there’s anything to talk about. I was an idiot, staying in a vanilla relationship so long, ignoring my needs.”
She snuggled into him. “Boone was right. I’d have been pissed if I’d safeworded out of that. My asshole fucking hurts, but it’s…” She shook her head and met Boone’s gaze. “It’s how a well-used sex toy is supposed to feel.”
He smiled. “It is.”
* * * *
Kenny held her a good thirty minutes, mostly in silence at first, but Silas eventually mentioned food, so the conversation drifted toward his meal plan — burgers with parmesan, mozzarella and Swiss cheese, bacon, and mushrooms sautéed in the bacon grease.
Willow said she’d fry potatoes, and Silas had a few other sides planned, and then conversation kind of went all over the place.
She knew Kenny ran the construction company, asked what the others did, wasn’t at all surprised Silas owns a restaurant, and said she could easily see Boone running a backhoe.
She told them she’s a traveling nurse, explained how it worked, and that she’d gotten into the routine of working one week per month, and having the other three weeks to be arm candy to her ex.
Her schedule was set until January unless someone had an emergency hole to fill, and she hadn’t decided how to work her schedule the following year.
Boone stretched out on the lounger seat and played footsie with her, Silas sat so he could see her face, and Kenny knew his beta was more in tune with her emotionally than the rest of them.
Which was fine.
They all had their strengths, and figuring those out was part of the purpose for the weekend.
Kenny was good at helping wolves with emotional shit once he realized there was a problem, but Silas noticed the problem first, most times.
Watching Silas read her emotional needs while Boone handled her physical limits had been like seeing his leadership structure in action. They’d moved around each other without conflict, each filling the role they were best suited for.
The alpha is therapist, mediator, rule maker, rule enforcer, and the general boss of everyone and everything. A pack is a dictatorship and not even close to democratic, and yet, the healthy ones are run by a benevolent dictator. He’d learned that from Randall, and he could see it in Cora now.
It also meant leaning on your top people though, and he was pleased to have these two men in those spots.
He was glad Silas had known to hold her and just let her cry.
Part of him wanted to be the one she turned to when she needed arms of safety, but with three men, he couldn’t be her everything.
And logistically, with all the demands of running the pack and the construction company, he’d figured out he couldn’t do everything himself.
That’s what this weekend was about — helping him feel comfortable leaning on his beta and gamma, and getting them more comfortable with calling him on his bullshit.
Randall hadn’t brought a bunch of yes-men around to be his advisors. He’d wanted actual advice. Once he’d made up his mind, the subject was closed, but they’d all felt comfortable debating issues with him while he was in the process of deciding.
When he felt Willow getting restless, he asked, “Ready to get out?”
“Yeah. This is nice, but Silas was probably right about the food.”
“Silas is nearly always right about food,” Kenny said. “Let’s get you dried off and then my final bossy act before we go back to being equals, I need to examine every square inch of your body.”
She met his gaze, considered arguing, but nodded. “Yeah. Okay. It isn’t an unreasonable demand. We’re already out of power exchange, but I get it. You feel responsible.”
“I am responsible,” Kenny told her. “If there’s too much damage, you can go to hawk and come back to human.”
She shook her head as she stepped out of the tub. “I’m going to enjoy every bruise until it heals, thank-you-very-much.”
Boone sat on the edge of the hot tub, spun around, and stood. He kissed the top of her head and wrapped a towel around his waist. “You’re welcome.”
Kenny checked over her breasts, then had her bend over the bed so he could check her ass and the backs of her thighs.
“On the bed, on your back, and grab your ankles. One more spot to check.”
She rolled her eyes but did as he said, and the first thought that went through his head was that if she was his, she’d be punished for that eyeroll.
And it made him stop short.
Because he realized he wanted her to be his.
* * * *
Boone made a point of checking her asshole over while Kenny had her sprawled out and open, and then he handed over her clothes.
In his mind, this officially ended the power exchange.
He could count on one hand the number of shifters who’d taken him in the ass without safewording on the first attempt, but this hadn’t just been about her taking his size — it was about her letting him push past her perceived limits because she trusted him.
The thing about shifters is that everything heals when you go to your animal and come back to human.
Pussies stay devirginized for most shifters, including wolves and hawks, but assholes do not. All that stretching and getting used to taking a huge dick, and you lose it when you shift.
Since Boone loved opening women past what they think they can handle, shifters were the best of all worlds for him.
Silas had bacon frying when they all hit the kitchen, and he announced, “Boone, cut the mushrooms, Kenny, get all the condiments and fixin’s out. Girly, you’re on potatoes.”
“Yeah, I’ll give you Girly,” Willow said with a smile, and Boone had to step back to keep from popping her on the ass.
Damn, he’d gotten too used to thinking of her as his. Okay, theirs, but still.
She got started on the potatoes, and Silas said, “Nice knifework. Is there a story?”
She glanced up, went back to work. “My grandmother taught me. She’s like the Tasmanian devil with knives when she’s prepping.”
They ate until even Boone leaned back with a satisfied grunt. Conversation meandered to the slide, the road work, weather patterns. Nothing heavy.
And Boone kept thinking how badly he wanted more of her.
When Willow finally pushed back from the table after fully stuffing herself, she said, “I should head back to my place. I’ve been here nearly thirteen hours, and it’s been a long day.”
They walked her to her cabin, waited until she was inside before heading back.
In their own cabin, Boone closed the door, and Kenny asked, “So, was that a one-off?”
Silas opened the cabinet, pulled whiskey down and three glasses.
“Far as I’m concerned, I’d like to see if she’s willing to see us once we’re home.”
A wave of relief flowed through Boone. “Fuck yes. So glad I’m not the only one thinking that.”
Kenny’s gaze was steady on both of them. “And how would that work? Three wolves sharing a hawk full-time?”
Boone shook his head. “Three men sharing a woman. We’re more than our animals.”
* * * *
Willow poured a glass of peach tea, lit a small fire in the hearth, and sat to watch it.
Alone.
She’d needed some space away from the men to sort through her feelings, but now that she was here, she missed having their energy around her.
Boone’s size had been overwhelming in every sense of the word, but he’d known how to use it — the patience to let her burn herself out fighting, the skill to keep her right on the edge until she gave in.
He was like this big immovable being. Like she could throw everything she had at him and he’d still be there, steady, ready to take more.
Silas was heat and edge, the kind of man who could be brutal one minute and coaxing the next, and make both feel equally natural. She’d caught him watching her more than once, reading her like an open book, making her feel raw, exposed, and yet somehow safe.
And he’d known when she needed the tears. No one had ever given her that without trying to fix it.
And Kenny — quiet, calm, the gravity that kept all of it from spinning out. He hadn’t barked orders, hadn’t needed to. Just a look, or a mild suggestion. She’d thought Alphas were all hard edges and unmovable rules, but he’d shown her how control could feel like a shelter instead of a cage.
It shouldn’t have worked. Three men with different styles, different energy, all focused on one submissive for a single afternoon. But it’d absolutely worked.
Perfectly.
Had they been telepathing? Everything had been terribly well orchestrated, so it made sense.
Also, an indisputable leader probably helped, but she was still amazed had how smoothly the whole thing had gone, moving from one position to another, aiding and assisting each other, swapping out her holes like she was… fuck. A toy. A shared amenity.
She tossed a pillow on the coffee table and propped her feet on it, wincing a little when her muscles pulled.
She hadn’t expected the tears, but once they started there’d been no stopping them.
Deep shit welling up and releasing, along with the control the men hadn’t let her pretend to have while Boone’s cock had nearly split her open and she hadn’t safeworded.
Somehow, they’d made her give up complete control, made her surrender more than anyone else had before.
They’d made it about more than just her body, they’d included her will.
Her autonomy. They’d made it about what they wanted, not what she wanted, and had made her an active participant in giving up her sovereignty, a participant in her own undoing.
The tears had been relief that she’d finally found what she wanted, and terror that she’d never find it again.
If she could bottle this — the exhaustion, the hum under her skin, the sense of being exactly where she was meant to be — she’d never have to look for anything else.
But real life didn’t usually work like her romance books. They’d been clear about it being one scene. No strings.
And that had been perfect, in her eyes. Get over James, have some fun, move on. Simple.
But then they’d used another scene tomorrow as incentive to get her through that hellish assfucking.
Her rectal muscles clenched at the memory, pain spiking through them.
Fuck, she didn’t think she could handle that two days in a row.
But no way in hell would she turn them down if they offered.
Because she’d caught all three of them looking into her, rather than merely at her, and every damned time, it’d felt like more than a no-strings scene.