12. Kozue #3
"Ronan approaches s'mores like a military operation," Kozue said, unable to suppress his grin. "I prefer the more artistic approach of watching the marshmallow and letting instinct guide the process."
"Instinct," Ronan repeated, "is how you end up with charcoal instead of perfectly caramelized sugar."
Sloane laughed—a genuine sound of delight that sent warmth flooding through him. "Well, I guess I'm about to discover which method works better."
She leaned forward to position her marshmallow near the flames, her movements careful and deliberate.
The firelight danced across her features, highlighting the strong line of her jaw and the determined set of her shoulders.
Kozue found himself captivated by the sight of her—the way she bit her lower lip in concentration, the way her hair caught the golden light, and the way she seemed to be embracing this moment of simple pleasure.
This is what I want, he thought with sudden, crystalline clarity. Not just her, but this. The three of us together.
Sloane withdrew her marshmallow from the flames with careful precision, the golden surface perfectly caramelized and glistening in the firelight. Steam rose from the molten sugar, carrying the sweet aroma that mingled with the woodsmoke and pine-scented mountain air.
"Now comes the critical part," Kozue said, shifting his chair closer to hers until their knees almost touched. "The assembly requires strategy."
He reached across the small space between their chairs to retrieve the graham crackers and chocolate squares she'd balanced on the armrest.
"First, you break the chocolate into precise squares," he demonstrated, his voice dropping into a gentle teaching tone. "Then position them on the graham cracker while the marshmallow is still hot enough to melt them."
Sloane followed his instructions with fierce concentration, her brow furrowed as she carefully assembled her s'more.
"Perfect," he murmured as she pressed the final graham cracker into place. "Now the moment of truth."
Sloane lifted the s'more to her lips and took a substantial bite. Immediately, melted marshmallow oozed from one side while molten chocolate escaped from the other, coating her chin and the corner of her mouth in sticky sweetness. Her eyes widened in surprise at the mess.
"You failed to mention the structural integrity issues," she said, trying to speak around the mouthful of s'more while more chocolate dripped down her chin.
The sight of her—unselfconscious and smiling, with marshmallow and chocolate painting her face—was mesmerizing. This was Sloane without her walls, without the careful control she maintained like armor. Just a woman enjoying a simple pleasure.
Before he could think better of it, Kozue reached out to wipe away a streak of marshmallow that clung to the edge of her lips. At the exact same moment, Ronan leaned forward from her other side, his thumb catching the chocolate that had escaped down her chin.
The moment their hands made contact with her skin simultaneously, Sloane's entire body went rigid, her hazel eyes darkening to almost black as her pupils dilated with unmistakable desire.
A soft gasp escaped her lips, and through their mate bond, Kozue felt the wave of pure want that crashed through her system like lightning.
But it wasn't just Sloane's reaction that stole Kozue's breath.
The triad bond blazed to life with a powerful intensity that made his wolf surge toward the surface.
For the first time since that night in the lodge lobby, he felt the complete connection—not just his bond with Sloane, not just his brotherhood with Ronan, but the three of them linked in perfect, inevitable unity.
This is what it's supposed to feel like, he realized with stunning clarity. Not competition or sacrifice or stepping aside. Just the three of us as one unit.
Ronan's eyes met his over Sloane's head, and Kozue saw his own revelation reflected there.
The Alpha's usual composed mask had slipped entirely, revealing raw wonder and something that looked remarkably like relief.
For twenty-seven years, they'd shared everything—childhood, tragedy, responsibility, dreams. Now they understood they were meant to share this too.
Sloane cleared her throat. "Thank you," she managed, but her voice came out breathless and shaken.
Both men pulled their hands back, the sudden absence of contact leaving all three of them bereft. Kozue's palm still tingled where he'd touched her soft skin, and his wolf whined at the loss of connection.
He fumbled in his pocket and produced a napkin, offering it to her with fingers that weren't entirely steady. "S'mores are notorious for their lack of structural engineering," he said, proud that his voice sounded almost normal.
She accepted the napkin and wiped her mouth, but her eyes remained dark with desire and something that looked remarkably like hope.
When she looked between him and Ronan, Kozue caught his breath at the possibility he saw there—as if she was finally allowing herself to imagine that maybe, impossibly, this could work.