Chapter Twenty-Eight
Sabine had never been their true mate. Deep within his heart, Aubert knew it. In his mind, his wolf agreed. Isobella—she was their true mate. Aubert swallowed. Had they ruined their chance with her? Had he ruined their chance?
She sat between them, soft and forgiving, the sheen of tears in her eyes, yet she did not know the full truth of it.
Edmond’s version of events was not a full telling.
Designed to show them—him—in the most favorable way, Edmond had left out the true horror, skimming over the violent conclusion of their competition.
That Sabine was not who they had thought her to be mattered not.
It did not wash away his sins, or excuse what he had done. The line he had almost crossed.
If ever there was a time to find his voice, it was now. Isobella deserved the truth. To know to whom she would be bonding herself. Only then would her choice be unfettered. He could not, would not, deny her that.
He heaved in a breath. This was not what it had been like with Sabine at all.
He had wanted Sabine, and he had been prepared to do anything to have her.
For a brief moment, he had been prepared to kill his own twin.
Here, now, with Isobella, it was not about him.
Or Edmond. It was about Isobella. What she needed.
What he could give her. He would give her everything, even the chance to walk away from him if that was what she needed.
Her hand still in his, he drew it closer, enclosing it in both of his. Would she still let him touch her like this when he’d told her everything? Would she pull away from him, horrified by his actions? There was only one way to know.
“Our competition for Sabine was more than mere challenges.” He ignored his brother’s glare. “We fought, Isobella. I fought. With everything I had. And…” He could not look her in the eye as he laid his shame bare. “I would have killed my brother to possess Sabine. I almost did.”
“To be fair, I was trying to kill you, too.” Edmond’s tone was light, teasing, but concern creased his brow. He leaned into Isobella. “We are well matched. Aubert and me. I confess to having been tired that day. He would never have got the best of me if I were not.”
Mayhap, but Aubert’s rage had been all-consuming.
In that moment, bloody and bruised, his hands around his brother’s throat, he had lost himself to it.
Had he not come to his senses, he might well have drawn his sword.
If he had, he would not be sitting on this cot now.
With her. He caught his brother’s gaze. With Edmond.
He would have lost not only his brother, and all the intervening years they had had together, he would have lost his pack.
Banished to roam alone. Or worse. His alpha might well have deemed his life forfeit.
The Montagnes could have ended with him and Edmond on that very day.
Isobella’s hand was still in his. She had not pulled away. He risked a glance at her face. Large, dark eyes stared up at him, full of empathy he had done naught to deserve.
“You are our mate, Isobella,” said Edmond, and she turned her gaze on his twin. “Our true mate. We will not fight over you, but there is one thing you must know.”
Aubert squeezed her hand, marveling at its softness, wondering if he would ever have the opportunity to touch her like this again.
Her focus switched back and forth between the two of them.
The set of Edmond’s jaw, his scent, reeked of determination. “It is both of us, or neither of us.”
Would she take on two savages who had once been willing to kill each other over a woman? One of whom had not treated her well from the beginning? His good intentions were for naught if her choice was to reject them.
She took her hand from his, and his hopes plummeted.
They would lose her. Because of him. His brother deserved better.
Then her hand was on his cheek, and her eyes were no longer full of empathy.
In them was all the hope for a future he had not wished for in a long time.
All the years of self-loathing, regret and shame slid away, like the divesting of an old cloak.
Their past gone as though it had never existed, leaving only her and him and Edmond.
Two men. Werewolves. Chevaliers. Huge men, warriors who could cut down a man without blinking an eye.
Had cut down many men. Isobella had witnessed their savagery in battle.
Yet, hearing their story, bracketed between them, surrounded by their heat and their scent, she wasn’t afraid of them.
No, her heart bled for them. Aubert’s frowns and Edmond’s easy charm, they hid a pain so deep it would have crushed lesser men.
She’d wanted to know if she was their mate, and they had given her the truth.
All of it. They’d laid it out for her in all its horrible ugliness, hiding nothing.
Bared their souls, not knowing if she would accept or reject them.
It was a gift. More than she’d ever hoped for. Isobella wasn’t going to squander it.
She slid her hand around Aubert’s neck and drew his face to within an inch of hers.
They hung there, poised, their breaths mingling.
Dark shadows danced in Aubert’s hooded eyes.
The thud of her pulse echoed loud in her ears.
Or was it his? She swallowed. There was no going back if she did this.
Back to being Isobella, just another werewolf in need of training.
Back to her life in the twenty-first century.
Isobella touched her lips to his.
She wanted this. Had longed for it from the moment Gabriel had risked his life for Annabelle. Had hoped for it as she’d stood in Muir Woods chanting the spell that would bring her here. She squeezed Edmond’s hand. She wanted it with them.
Aubert groaned, and she parted her lips, inviting him in.
He didn’t hesitate. Gruff, silent Aubert, with his wounded, gentle heart.
He took from her, storming her mouth, as savage in this as he was in battle.
But he also gave. Everything. His heart, his soul, his strength.
It was there in the way his tongue tangled with hers, in the firmness of his lips, the brush of his beard against her sensitized skin. In the tender way he cupped her face.
He scooped her up and sat her on his lap, and she didn’t protest. Beside her, Edmond watched. Edmond, a man who rescued strays and forgave his brother. So patient and gentle with her, always encouraging, and quick to smile. She reached for him. They made her body sing, both of them.
Edmond’s breath seized in his lungs. Watching his brother kiss their mate was glorious and yet torturous.
Anticipation and impatience warred within him, and his cock strained at his breeches.
He wanted what his brother had. Wanted her in his arms, nestled in his lap, but he did not pull her away from him, not even when she reached for him.
Aubert needed this. Her forgiveness, her acceptance of him.
And Isobella needed to know Aubert wanted her as much as he did.
That Edmond had not lied when he had said she was important to both of them.
His gaze dropped to the gentle curve of her neck.
They had agreed to share her as their mate, but…
? How far was Isobella willing to go? How far was his brother?
He hung back, uncertain and as awkward as a youth in the company of his first naked woman, not wanting to intrude on Aubert’s moment, but also wanting to be a part of it.
He shifted along the cot, closer. She paid him no mind. Neither did Aubert.
He itched to touch her. He reached for her, then changed his mind and set his hands back on his knees.
Merde. He could not sit here any longer and not touch her.
With the lightest of touches, he rested his hand on her shoulder, ready to move it at her slightest resistance.
She made no move to shrug him off. He ran his hand down her arm.
She shivered, and moaned into Aubert’s mouth, but did not push either of them away.
Bolder, he leaned in and pressed his lips against her soft skin. She tilted her neck to give him greater access, and he could not suppress the anticipation blossoming in his chest. He brushed her long curls aside and dropped kisses all the way up the column of her throat.
With obvious reluctance, Aubert broke off his kiss.
His eyes full of his wolf, and his breathing ragged, he tracked Edmond’s path along her jaw—a gentle press of his lips, a nibble, a hint of teeth.
How far would she let him go? How far would Aubert?
One on one, he had no doubt she would let them take her, make love to her right here in the training room.
On the hard cot with its rough blanket. But with the two of them?
“Edmond.”
His name slipped from her lips in a long, drawn-out moan, and she turned to him, her hand snaking around his neck and pulling him closer.
“Kiss me.”
Aubert cocked his head, frowning. Edmond waited for him to say something, to growl at him.
Instead, Aubert nodded. Edmond did not hesitate.
Taking Isobella’s mouth with his, he coaxed her lips apart.
She leaned into him, giving him everything he asked for and more.
He wanted it all, and he slipped his tongue between her parted lips, teasing another moan from her.
He was drunk on the taste of her, on the way her fingers tightened in his hair, the way she chased his tongue.
She near brought him to his knees. So sweet, so full of longing, as though life had left her bereft of such things.
He growled into her mouth, and she shivered.
Not anymore. Not now he and Aubert were here.
They would show her what it meant to be loved.
Between them, they would cater to her every desire, have her screaming with her release again and again. They would not leave her wanting.
The desire, the need in his brother’s eyes matched his own. What better way to give her what she craved than to do this together? The bond he had with Aubert was strong. They would make it stronger. Share Isobella in every way possible.
Edmond did not have to say a word. Aubert knew what he was thinking. His Adam’s apple jerking, he nodded.
The thought of the three of them entwined, both of them worshiping her body, had him so eager, his fingers shook as he fumbled for the laces on her dress.
Aubert growled. He was similarly struggling with the laces on her other side.
Aubert’s musky scent intensified, his wolf hovering close.
His own pushed forward. His beast could help.
Edmond thought that was a grand idea. He released her mouth, satisfied with her glazed eyes and swollen lips.
Calling his darker half forward enough to let his claws extend, Edmond snapped the laces, and they fell away, and with them any concerns he may have had that this was not right.
That Gaharet would not approve. That he would forbid it.
It had never been fate who had got it wrong.
It was them. This was exactly how it had always been meant to be. Not them fighting over her.
He trusted his brother more than he had ever, would ever, trust anyone else. They had shared a womb, a childhood, a keep. They had fought side by side in every single battle. It was only natural they would share a mate. And share her like this.
Isobella stared at the laces, a thread of uneasiness weaving its way into her scent. They would need to take things slow. They did not want to overwhelm their mate. Not when they had her right where they needed her to be. Between the two of them.