Chapter 14
ANITA
I’m sitting in the middle of the biggest bed I’ve ever seen, and I can barely think straight.
Mason is on my left, Dylan on my right, and they’re both so close that I sense the heat radiating from their bodies, smell their scents wrapping around me like they’re trying to claim every molecule of air in this room.
It’s intoxicating. Overwhelming. Drowning me in the best possible way.
Dylan’s hand rests on my thigh, fire burning through the denim of my jeans. Mason’s fingers are tracing the gold chain at my waist, following the delicate links.
“You’re trembling,” Mason observes, his voice dropping to that low register that goes straight between my legs.
“I must be cold,” I lie, and it’s such an obvious one that they both grin.
Dylan leans closer, his lips brushing the shell of my ear, his breath hot against my skin. “Liar. You’re burning up. I can feel the heat coming off you.”
He’s right. I’m on fire. Every nerve ending is screaming for attention, and I’m barely holding myself together. My hands are fisted in the duvet beneath me, knuckles white.
“Maybe I’m nervous,” I admit, my voice coming out breathier than I intended.
“About us?” Mason’s hand cups my face, turning me gently to look at him, and those golden-brown eyes are so warm, so genuinely concerned, that my chest squeezes.
“Nothing to worry about except becoming completely obsessed with us.” He grins, then kisses me, soft and slow and devastating like he’s got all the time in the world and he’s going to use every second learning exactly how I like to be kissed.
I melt into the way his mouth moves against mine with such patient hunger.
When he pulls back, I’m gasping. Mason laughs softly, his hands sliding under my crop top, fingertips tracing across my bare skin, which has me arching involuntarily. “I think we broke her already.”
“Not yet,” I manage, finding my voice somewhere. “But you’re welcome to keep trying.”
They both grin, glancing at each other with a slight challenge in their eyes. Mason’s hands are everywhere, exploring. When his fingers brush the underside of my breasts through the thin fabric of my top, I lean into the touch without thinking.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, and the word sounds like a prayer.
Dylan’s mouth skims my throat, trailing heat across my collarbone.
Mason’s lips press against the other side of my neck, featherlight at first, then firmer, claiming more of me with every pass. I can’t tell whose hands are touching where anymore, only that my body is humming, strung tight, aching in places I didn’t know could feel like this.
I’m caught between them, breathless, raw with want. Every nerve sparks to life. Every brush of skin sends another wave rolling through me. It’s not just lust. It’s hunger with no end. The kind that consumes.
And just like that, my mind flickers, unbidden, back to last night. Jasper’s mouth crashing into mine, the grip of his hands on my hips, the kiss that stole every coherent thought and left my knees useless. The wildness in it, the promise of more.
A shiver runs down my spine that has nothing to do with the hands on me now. That kiss lives under my skin, as alive as the mouths currently mapping out every inch of me.
But I’m not pulling away.
I’m leaning in.
And if I’m burning, I’m not ready for it to stop for this pack of Alphas.
I should probably feel guilty. Three Alphas. Two days.
But I don’t.
There’s no shame in craving something that feels this electric, this alive. No regret in wanting more of what makes me forget every wound I’ve ever carried.
Still, I’m not na?ve. I know exactly what I’m doing, how stories like this usually end.
With someone getting burned. And I’ve never been great at fireproofing my heart.
Dylan pulls my shirt up and over my head, then strips it away and lets it fall to the floor without a glance, like nothing else in the world matters right now but this, me, here, in his arms, in my jeans and black lace bra. His gaze trails down over my body, slowly. “Goddamn.”
Something deep in my chest clenches at his reaction. It’s not just lust. It’s worship. And it makes my skin burn in the best way.
His mouth brushes the top of my chest, warm and coaxing, while his fingers slide under the straps of my bra and ease them down my arms.
Beside me, a low, approving sound rumbles against my shoulder. Mason’s mouth follows it, lips hot and searching against my skin like he’s reading something only he can see written there.
“Do you believe in forever, angel?” Mason asks softly.
I moan before I can stop myself. Not just from what they’re doing to my body, but from the things they’re unearthing that I thought I’d buried for good.
“I already tried that,” I whisper, my voice too raw, too honest. “Thought I’d found it.
Turned out, I was just the one who got left behind.
” My throat tightens, and I force a smile to make it feel less painful than it actually was.
“So if you’re asking if I’m applying for membership, I’m probably not your girl. ”
Mason stills. Dylan’s lips pause mid-kiss, breath warm against my chest.
The mood shifts, subtle but sharp.
“You really know how to throw a wrench in a fantasy,” I say lightly, trying to pull them back to the heat, to now, because I’m not ready to drown in memories. Not tonight.
I tug Dylan closer, fingertips digging into his back. “Less feelings. More kissing.”
His hand comes to my jaw, tilting my face up, not rough, but firm enough to steal the air from my lungs. His eyes are green fire, lit from somewhere I can’t reach.
“It guts me,” he says quietly, “that someone made you think you weren’t worth forever.”
The words slide under my skin, unexpected and devastating.
Before I can respond, Dylan’s mouth is on mine, hungry, claiming, like he’s trying to kiss the past out of me. I rise to meet him, threading my hands into his hair, needing the grounding as everything in me starts to unravel.
And maybe this is a mistake. I’m setting myself up for heartbreak all over again, except right now, I’m wrapped in the heat of their touch and the way they look at me like I’m already theirs.
And I don’t want to stop.
Mason’s fingers find the clasp of my bra and release it like he’s been waiting his whole life to do it. The straps slide down my arms, and the fabric falls, forgotten somewhere around me.
They both pull back, their gazes dragging over every inch of newly exposed skin from my waist up.
Dylan is breathing hard. “Fucking perfect.”
My heart stutters.
Mason doesn’t waste time, his hands already at the button of my jeans, fingers steady, but his gaze holds mine like a dare. “Whatever bullshit your last pack put you through,” he murmurs, voice dark and threaded with heat, “they were fools. You don’t let an Omega like you go. Not ever.”
I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out.
His eyes soften, just a flicker, and then he flashes me a grin that weakens my knees. “But lucky for us, that means we get a shot.”
My breath catches. A shot. Like I’m something worth winning. Not owned. Not claimed. Chosen.
I should laugh it off. Tell him he’s laying it on thick. But instead, I just stare, heat rising up the back of my neck as something dangerous and hopeful curls low in my belly.
“Sounds like you just need a little convincing. Proof that not all packs get it wrong,” Dylan’s voice cuts in.
I give a shaky laugh, even as my throat tightens.
“Convincing, huh?” I arch a brow, swallowing the ache before it shows. “Well, I’m open to arguments. Especially if they involve fewer clothes and more hands.”
It works. Dylan’s eyes darken, his lips twitching at the corner. “Lift your hips,” he says, gentle and firm all at once.
I do, and together they move like they’ve done this a hundred times—Dylan tugging my jeans and underwear down while Mason crouches to unzip my boots with a tenderness that undoes me completely. His hands are big, rough from work, but careful. Like I’m fragile.
They strip me down to nothing but the glinting chain around my waist and then sit back like they need a second just to take it all in.
And maybe I need a second too, because under their eyes, I feel stripped bare in more ways than one.
“Let’s not dive into the tragic backstory tonight. Clothes off. Now. That’s the only agenda I’m interested in.”
Mason chuckles, low and rough. “If that’s what you wish.”
But the look they both give me says they’re already seeing straight through my act and they’re not done convincing me yet. Not even close.
Mason stands and strips with the kind of confidence that steals breath. His sweatpants and briefs hit the floor in one motion, and for a second, I can’t move.
He’s all golden skin and hard muscle, cut in the kind of way that makes you wonder what it would feel like to be held down and worshipped at the same time.
Broad chest, carved abs, thighs like tree trunks.
But it’s the way he looks at me, like I’m already his, that makes my lungs forget how to work.
And he’s hard. Thick, heavy, and already flushed, bobbing slightly with every step back toward the bed. He’s proud of it, but not in a cocky way. He’s watching me watch him, smiling. The way I react is clearly what gets him off most.
Then Dylan rises and drops his own pants, and the air leaves my body in a stuttering exhale.
He’s just as thick, longer maybe, veins running up the shaft. I can’t look away. He catches my gaze and raises a brow.
“Still think we’re just sweet?” Dylan teases, voice low and full of promise.
I lift a brow, letting my gaze drag over both of them with deliberate slowness, as if I’m debating it, then flash a wicked grin. “Sweet? No. Devious? Hell yes. Sexy as sin? Unfortunately, also yes.”
Dylan chuckles, head tilting. “Unfortunately?”
“Tragically,” I deadpan, even as heat curls through me. “It’s very inconvenient for someone trying to maintain a little self-control.”