Chapter 22 Taimyr
Chapter Twenty-Two
Taimyr
“What exactly is this place?” Kenai asked as dust motes floated through the air around us.
We were sprawled across ancient cushions Aleksi had pulled from somewhere, our bodies still humming in the aftermath. The library felt different now—warmer somehow, as if our joining had awakened something in its bones. Perhaps the magic here was a bit voyeuristic.
Sylvie pushed up on one elbow, her hair a magnificent disaster that made me want to mess it up all over again. “According to Aleksi, it’s a preserved elven archive. It contains the original employment contracts between Jólnir and the reindeer clans.”
“Wait.” I sat up so fast I nearly knocked Kenai off his cushion. “You mean to tell me we’ve been fighting for union recognition for years, and this whole time there were original documents that could’ve helped our case?”
Aleksi’s jaw tightened, his defensive walls already starting to rebuild. “It would not have mattered without someone who understood them.”
“It would’ve mattered to know it existed!” Kenai’s easy-going mask cracked, revealing genuine frustration. “Do you know how many negotiations could’ve gone differently if we’d had historical precedent to cite?”
“Oh, so now you care about my resources?” Aleksi’s voice dropped to that dangerous register I knew too well from years of fighting. “Where was this interest when you were making deals that threw my people under the sleigh?”
The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Here we go again—the same fight that had destroyed our coalition last year, except now we were all naked and covered in each other’s scent. Fantastic timing.
“Enough.” Sylvie’s voice cut through the brewing storm. She sat up fully, pulling a dusty blanket over her chest, and fixed all three of us with a look that probably made opposing counsel wet their pants. “You’re doing it again.”
“But he—” I started.
“No.” She held up a hand. “Aleksi, you were right to protect this place. These documents have power, and Jólnir would’ve found a way to destroy them. Rewriting history is the best way to control the future.”
Aleksi’s shoulders dropped slightly, some of the fight draining from his massive frame.
“But,” she continued, turning to him fully, “you also let your pride and isolation prevent you from even considering that Kenai and Taimyr might be trustworthy allies.”
“And you two.” Her gaze swung to us, and I found myself wanting to hide behind Kenai like a calf. “You got so focused on what was achievable that you forgot to listen to why Aleksi couldn’t accept it. You let your privilege blind you.”
The silence that followed was thick. She was right, of course. Our omega usually was.
Kenai let out a long sigh, flopping back onto the cushions. “Is it hard, being right all the time?” He grinned at Sylvie.
She snorted. “It’s my burden to bear.”
We all looked at Aleksi, who was obviously ready to bolt. His chest was heaving, and I recognized the signs of an alpha warring with emotion against instinct. Sylvie opened her mouth to speak, but Kenai got their first.
“Hey,” Kenai said gently, his hand moving to the bigger alpha’s shoulder. “First time with other alphas is overwhelming for everyone.”
Aleksi blinked but didn’t respond.
“Even Taimyr forgot how to speak for an hour,” Kenai continued, clearly defusing the tension. “Though I might just be that good.”
“Lies and slander,” I countered, playing along. “It was at least two hours. And Kenai cried.”
“I did not—”
“You absolutely did. Beautiful tears. Very alpha.”
The absurdity of it—three rival alphas making jokes about our first time while our omega watched with fond exasperation—broke something loose in the room. Aleksi let out a laugh that sounded like he hadn’t used it in ages.
“You cried?” he asked Kenai, only half-mocking.
Kenai’s pale skin flushed beautifully. “I may have been…emotionally overwhelmed.”
“He sobbed,” I clarified helpfully.
“You’d just knotted me for the first time!” Kenai protested, then his gaze softened, vulnerability flickering through. “I was afraid I wouldn’t be enough for you.”
I reached out and pulled him into my arms. “You told me you were afraid that once the rut wore off, I’d realize you were too reckless, too—”
“Weak,” Kenai finished quietly.
Aleksi made a low sound of recognition. “You thought you weren’t alpha enough.”
“The smallest, covered in scars from lost fights, better with words than antlers?” Kenai laughed bitterly. “Not exactly the traditional alpha model.”
“And yet Taimyr chose you,” Aleksi said slowly, as if working through a complex equation.
“Because he’s brilliant,” I replied simply. “And kind. And sees ten moves ahead while I’m still charging at the current problem. He makes me better.”
“Sap,” Kenai muttered, but his hand found mine.
Aleksi stared at our interlaced fingers with something like wonder. “I was taught needing others was a weakness.”
“You were taught wrong,” Sylvie said gently, her fingers tracing along his chest. “The strongest thing any of us can do is admit we need each other.”
“Is that what this is?” Aleksi asked, gesturing vaguely at all of us.
“Among other things,” Kenai answered with a wink. “But yes. I need Taimyr’s passion and level-headedness. He needs me to push him past his comfort zone. We both need Sylvie’s brilliant mind and fierce heart. And…”
“And?” Aleksi prompted.
“And maybe we need your unwavering protection of those who can’t protect themselves,” Kenai admitted. “Your refusal to accept anything less than true justice. For someone to anchor us against the coming storm.”
“Even when it’s inconvenient?” Aleksi challenged.
“Especially when it’s inconvenient,” I insisted. “We got comfortable with small concessions. You never did. That’s not stubbornness—it’s what we were missing.”
The massive Finnish forest reindeer looked between us like he was waiting for a punchline. When none came, something shifted in his expression—a wall coming down that might’ve been standing for years.
My eyes widened as he reached out and cupped Kenai’s cheek, his thumb tracing beneath the scab that he had causes. “I’m sorry, pieni valkoinen. I…I should have controlled myself better.”
I saw the tiniest blush rise on Kenai’s ears, and I was definitely going to tease him about that in private.
“It’s alright, not my first scar.” He said, trying to appear nonchalant and failing.
“Also not your last, knowing you.” I teased, and Sylvie chuckled in agreement. Aleksi lowered his hand, and exhaled slowly.
“I want to help,” he murmured finally. “I want to fight—but the right way. Together.”
“Together,” Sylvie echoed, and the word held a promise that made the air shimmer with magic.
Aleksi didn’t fight it this time. He only sighed. “Only a few days left until Christmas, and there’s too much here for even our brilliant omega to work through alone.”
“Know any human lawyers willing to work Christmas Eve Eve?” Kenai asked jokingly.
But Sylvie wasn’t smiling now. “Yes,” she said with soft determination. “I know just the one.”