30. Rowan
30
ROWAN
S he’s still trembling when I touch her. My hands slide over her flushed skin, heated from Jake’s claiming bite, her body still recovering, still needing .
I see it in the way her breath stutters, the way her pupils are blown wide, the way she reaches for me without hesitation.
She’s ready.
And she’s mine.
Jake moves back, his lips brushing her temple before he settles beside her, his fingers stroking her thigh even as he makes room for me.
Ash stays close too, pressing light kisses along her shoulder, his hand firm against her waist. We surround her, a wall of heat and want, a force she can’t escape.
Not that she’d want to.
I frame her face between my hands, tilting her chin so she has to look at me. Her lips are parted, her breath shallow, and she’s already arching into me before I even touch her properly. I drag my thumb over her lower lip, feeling the soft swell.
Her tongue flicks out, grazing my skin.
I swear under my breath.
“You’re dangerous like this,” I murmur, brushing my lips against hers, teasing, waiting for her to shatter.
She doesn’t answer—not with words. Instead, she surges forward, pressing her mouth to mine, a kiss that’s more of a plea than anything else.
I meet her need with my own, my fingers sliding down her body, over every curve, and the mark that proves she’s already been claimed once tonight.
But she’s not done.
Neither am I.
Her nails scrape lightly against my shoulders as I press her down into the mattress. My lips trail over her jaw, her neck, down to where Jake’s mark stands out against her flushed skin. My chest tightens at the sight, a possessive hunger clawing at my ribs.
I want mine there too.
She shifts beneath me, desperate, restless, her body instinctively responding, chasing more.
“I’ve got you,” I murmur against her throat, pressing a lingering kiss to the spot where my mark will go. “Let me take care of you.”
A soft sound escapes her lips, somewhere between a gasp and a whimper, and she turns her head, giving me more access.
She trusts me.
That knowledge sends a sharp rush of heat through me. I roll my shoulders, steadying myself as I spread her thighs wider, as my body presses against hers, as I position myself exactly where she needs me most.
Ash’s fingers tangle in her hair, his voice low. “Breathe, sweetheart.”
Jake strokes a hand down her side, his touch gentle. “You’re okay.”
She is okay. More than that—she’s perfect .
And then I push forward, and she shatters.
Her body tightens, her back arching off the bed, her lips parting on a ragged moan. Her nails dig into my shoulders, holding onto me like I’m the only thing keeping her anchored.
I press my forehead against hers, my breath uneven.
“That’s it,” I rasp, gripping her waist, holding her steady as I push deeper, as I claim her inch by inch. I bite her shoulder, feeling my knot swelling bigger than it ever has, locking her to me, claiming her as my own.
I feel her stretch around me, feel the way she pulses, clenching, taking all of me.
And then something changes.
Heat flares between us—something wild, something more .
Jake curses under his breath. “Shit.”
Ash’s grip tightens. “She’s going into heat.”
The words barely register before I feel it. The sudden, overwhelming need that surges through her, through all of us.
Her body tightens even more, her breath quickens, her nails dig into my skin, and I know—this isn’t just pleasure.
It’s instinct .
Primal. All-consuming.
I growl low in my throat, forcing myself to move slow, to hold her still even as her body begs for more.
“Easy, sweetheart,” I murmur, kissing her jaw, her cheek, her lips. “We’ve got you. Let my knot relax, and then it’s Ash’s turn.”
Jake strokes her hair, his touch soothing even as his eyes burn with heat. The minutes while my knot holds her locked to me feel like years.
Ash kisses her shoulder. “We won’t stop until you have everything you need.”
She lets out a broken sound, her body arching, her thighs trembling. She’s spiraling, and I know—I know—she needs more. I press a slow kiss against my mark, my voice low. “One more to go.”
Ash chuckles, his voice rough with restraint. “Think she can handle it?”
She doesn’t answer—not with words. But the way she looks at us, the way she reaches for Ash, says everything.
And I know the night is far from over.
Her arousal has become sharper now.
Ash steps forward, rolling his shoulders, his eyes locked on her like he’s barely holding himself back. His control is razor-thin, his hunger a living thing, curling in the space between us.
Jake smirks, voice rough. “She’s all yours.”
Ash kneels between her legs, sliding his palms up her thighs, spreading her open like she’s the most precious thing he’s ever seen. His touch is patient. Calculated. A slow burn instead of wildfire.
I watch as he lowers his head, his mouth brushing over her inner thigh, teasing, tasting. Her breath hitches, fingers gripping the sheets, anticipation making her tremble.
“Easy, sweetheart,” Ash murmurs against her skin as he rises over her. I look at his lean form, the way he’s draped over her. There’s something perfect about all of this…something that’s bigger than any single one of us.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers, and then he buries himself between her legs.
Her body jolts, back arching, and she releases a sharp gasp. My fingers curl into fists at my sides, the sight of her unraveling enough to make my control snap. But I hold back. This is Ash’s moment.
His hands grip her thighs, holding her open as he takes his time, exploring, devouring. She’s all soft sounds and helpless whimpers, her body shifting under him, desperate for more.
Jake exhales sharply beside me. “Damn.”
Yeah. Damn.
Ash is meticulous, his tongue stroking, teasing, pushing her higher. He growls against her skin, his grip tightening, like he’s savoring every last drop of her.
He pulls back just enough to whisper, “You smell so good, sweetheart. Better than I ever imagined.”
Her fingers dive into his hair, tugging, urging him closer, and he gives her exactly what she wants.
I watch, lust tightening in my gut, as Ash works her over with slow, ruthless precision. She’s coming apart, legs trembling, body arching, her lips parting on a broken cry. But he doesn’t stop. Not yet.
Not until she’s completely wrecked.
Her release crashes over her, and Ash finally gives in to his own need, his eyes wild. Then he moves over her, caging her in, his voice a low growl. “Now, I mark you.”
Her breath stutters, eyes fluttering open, hazy with pleasure. But she nods.
She wants this. Wants him.
Ash doesn’t waste another second. He grips her thighs, positions himself, and then pushes forward.
A sharp gasp leaves her lips as he stretches her, filling her inch by inch, his jaw tight with restraint.
“Fuck,” Ash mutters, his forehead dropping to hers. “So perfect.”
I feel it then—the shift. The moment she stops just taking us and starts belonging to us. Completely.
Jake and I both move closer, our hands stroking over her skin, reminding her we’re here. That she’s safe. That this is exactly where she’s meant to be.
Ash groans, his movements slow but deep, each thrust drawing another broken sound from her lips. She’s burning up between us, her body arching, her fingers digging into his back.
And then his teeth graze her shoulder.
Her breath catches.
Ash’s voice is a rough whisper. “You ready, sweetheart?”
She nods, and that’s all he needs.
His teeth sink in.
She gasps, body jolting, the bond snapping into place with a rush of heat, something undeniable locking them together.
Ash groans, his grip tightening, his body tensing as he holds himself deep inside her.
Jake strokes a hand over her stomach, soothing. “Breathe, baby.”
I watch, heart pounding, as the connection between them solidifies.
She’s ours.
Our glorious Omega.
Grace is ours.
Ash finally pulls back, his chest heaving, his skin damp with sweat. He doesn’t move far, though. His hands are still on her, still gripping like he can’t quite let go. His lips brush against her temple, murmuring something low and soothing, though his own voice is rough, strained.
But the second he withdraws, her body jolts like she’s been shocked. A sharp inhale, her back arching, a strangled whimper caught in her throat.
I see it happen—the way her pupils dilate, her fingers tightening into fists against the sheets. Her body trembles, shudders, and then the scent of her heat flares again, hotter, thicker, almost suffocating.
She gasps. “Oh?—”
Jake and I both freeze.
Ash curses under his breath. “Shit.”
I don’t hesitate. My hand is already on her cheek, tilting her face toward me, my thumb tracing the flushed curve of her cheekbone.
Her skin burns, heat radiating from her in waves, her chest rising and falling too fast. Her lips are parted, her breath coming in short, desperate pants.
Jake drags a hand through his sweat-damp hair, his jaw tightening. “It’s worse now.”
It is. We barely took the edge off, and now it’s roaring back, threatening to consume her all over again.
She whimpers, pressing her thighs together, her body caught in the throes of something instinctual, something beyond her control. She turns her face toward me, her glassy eyes pleading, and it nearly undoes me.
“Please,” she whispers. “I can’t?—”
I hush her softly, brushing damp strands of hair from her face, but my own pulse pounds in my ears, my instincts surging forward with violent force.
She needs more. She needs us.
Ash is already moving, his lips pressing to her temple, her jaw, whispering words meant to ground her. “We’ve got you,” he murmurs. “You’re not alone.”
Jake is at her other side, his hands skimming over her skin, soothing but firm. “Just breathe, sweetheart.”
But breathing isn’t enough. Not for her.
She whimpers again, her body tensing, her fingers digging into the sheets hard enough to tear. The sound that escapes her is raw, aching, full of need.
My control frays at the edges.
We move as one, the three of us, our touches blending together in a seamless rhythm. Hands stroking, guiding, lips brushing over heated skin, grounding her through the unbearable pressure of it all. She writhes beneath us, against us, overwhelmed but reaching, always reaching.
She clings to Jake’s shoulders, her nails biting into his skin, leaving red crescents in their wake. Her teeth catch on Ash’s lower lip when he kisses her, the sharp sting making him groan into her mouth.
My hands bracket her hips, steadying, soothing, while my lips trail over her jaw, down the column of her throat, feeling the erratic pulse hammering beneath her skin.
It’s brutal. Beautiful. A ceremony in itself.
By the time it’s over, none of us are untouched.
Jake collapses beside her, his chest rising and falling in sharp, uneven breaths, a deep scratch marking his shoulder where her nails dug in too hard. Ash slumps against her other side, forehead resting against her shoulder, his lips brushing soft, reverent kisses over her damp skin.
And me?
Scratches line my arms, my back, my chest, faint trails of dried blood marking where she lost herself to the pleasure, to the need.
I sit back on my heels, just looking at her.
She’s wrecked. Completely.
Her body is boneless, her skin glistening with sweat, marked by us in ways no one else ever will be. Bruises bloom along her thighs, and bite marks are scattered across her collarbone and her shoulders, indicating places where our teeth found purchase in the haze of it all.
It smells like devotion. Like permanence.
She curls onto her side, her body still trembling, small whimpers escaping her lips. Not in pain. Just spent.
I move first, pushing up on one elbow, reaching for the damp cloth beside the bed. Carefully, I press it to her skin, wiping away the remnants of what we did. She flinches at first, too sensitive, but then she relaxes, letting me take care of her.
“You did so well,” I murmur, dragging the cloth over her stomach, her thighs, slow and careful. I erase the mess, but not the marks. Not the evidence of us.
Jake presses a glass of water to her lips, his other hand stroking her hair. “Drink, baby. You need it.”
She obeys without question, swallowing greedily, throat working as she drains half the glass before slumping back against the pillows.
Ash is the last to move, shifting closer, wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her against his chest. He nuzzles her temple, his lips brushing over her damp skin. “You were perfect,” he whispers. “So perfect.”
She sighs, her body melting against his, her breathing finally evening out.
And for the first time since this started, a quiet settles over us.
The kind that doesn’t need words. The kind that says everything.
She’s ours.
And we are hers.
Always.
Forever.