Chapter Seven Days Until Christmas
Seven Days Until Christmas
Eden
"Absolutely not," Julius says, but his voice sounds weak and resigned. "No Christmas trees in the nest."
She growls at him, a sound she's never heard herself make towards her mates before, but she's too far gone to reign it in. Her alphas didn't have a right to decide on how she made her nests. She made the nests. Their job was just to fuck her in it.
"It's going to get needles everywhere. It's going to make a mess." His voice sounds even more resigned now, as if he already knows he's lost this argument.
"Just at the end of the bed," she whines.
It's a rare moment of lucidity amidst the red haze of desire that has claimed her body, but she's about 120% sure that she needs the tree in her nest. It's such a perfect tree, so big and broad.
Her alpha got her that tree, and that thought makes her see stars.
When Luke hauls the tree into the nest and positions it perfectly so it makes up one of the walls of softness surrounding the bed, she hears Tenor heave a sigh, but they don't try to argue with her about it either when she starts purring happily at the sight.
Her body heats up and her skin prickles, warning her that she's been empty for too long. A whine is all that's needed for one of them–Luke, she can tell just from the smell of him and the way he moves–to press her face down into the bedding and thrust his cock into her.
She sighs happily, melting into the bed as the scents of her pack and the evergreen tree fills her nose, relaxing into the claiming thrusts of her mate's hips.
She disappears until only her need exists, encompassing all four of them in a warm blanket of oneness and desire and love and movement and emptiness and throbbing and pomegranates and lilies and earth and wood.
She sinks so deep into the bond she doesn't know if she will ever come out, and that thought causes another wave of contractions around her mate as warmth floods her whole body with blinding rays of light.