Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
Amber
I’m back in that cramped, dimly lit apartment. It stinks of stale beer. Luke is yelling, his face a distorted mask of rage, but the sound is muffled, like I’m underwater.
I’m trying to shield my stomach, trying to shield Maisie, but my arms are lead weights. He raises a hand, and his shadow on the wall looks like a blade.
I gasp, sitting bolt upright, the sheets tangling around my legs like a trap. The room is pitch black, save for the faint, digital glow of the alarm clock.
3:00 a.m.
I press a hand to my chest, willing my breathing to steady. Just a dream. Only a memory playing on a loop.
I drag in air, letting the silence of the house settle over me. It smells like lavender detergent and the pine wood cleaner Norah likes. It smells safe.
I’m in Fox Hollow. Luke is hundreds of miles away.
Turning my head, I reach out in the dark until my fingers brush soft, curly hair. Maisie.
She’s sprawled diagonally across the mattress, one leg thrown over my duvet, her mouth slightly open. She looks so peaceful, so unlike the terrified toddler she used to be.
I trace the line of her jaw with my thumb, careful not to wake her. In sleep, there is no fear in her, no flinching at sudden movements.
I have failed her so many times. I stayed too long. I let the wrong men into our lives. I put my own need to be loved above her need to be safe.
But looking at her now, at the steady rise and fall of her chest, I make the promise again. This time will be different. I’m building a life here where she doesn’t have to be brave. She just has to be a kid.
Carefully, I slide out from under the covers, padding barefoot across the hardwood floor. My throat feels like sandpaper, scrubbed raw by the nightmare. I need water.
The hallway is cold, a drafty corridor that connects the bedrooms to the living area. The house is still, the kind of heavy silence that only exists in the deepest part of the night.
I shuffle into the kitchen, the moonlight filtering through the window over the sink painting the countertops in shades of silver and blue.
I fill a glass from the tap, the water shockingly cold. As I take a sip, a noise cuts through the quiet. A scuffle. A scratch against the side of the house.
I freeze, the glass halfway to my lips.
Probably the raccoon.
There’s a fat, bandit-masked creature that’s been frequenting the back porch lately, eyeing the trash bins with professional interest. I’ve been leaving him scraps, a peace offering to keep him from ripping the bags open.
Setting the glass down, I grab the heavy metal flashlight from the utility drawer and move to the back door. I can see through the glass that it’s started to snow, fat flakes drifting down and sticking to the deck railing.
I pour a little water into a ceramic saucer, grab my snow boots from the rack, and shove my feet into them. I don’t bother with a coat; I’ll only be a second.
Unlocking the door, I ease it open. The cold air hits me like a slap, waking up the rest of my senses. I step out onto the deck, flashlight beam cutting through the swirling flakes.
“Here, little guy,” I whisper, heading toward the corner of the house where the noise came from. “I’ve got some—”
The beam of light hits something that isn’t a raccoon.
It hits a pair of boots. Then a pair of trousers shoved down around ankles. Then, as I lift the beam in horrified, slow-motion realization, I see skin.
A lot of it. Three distinct male forms, crowded around a smaller, feminine figure pinned against the rough siding of the house.
Norah.
She’s braced against the wood, her head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open in a silent cry of pleasure.
Jude is in front of her, his hands gripping her hips, his face buried in her neck. Ryker is behind her, one hand in her hair. And Dorian… Dorian is beside them, whispering something in her ear that makes her shudder visibly.
They are moving in a rhythm that is ancient and primal, completely oblivious to the snow falling around them or the light suddenly shining on their entangled bodies.
The sight sears itself into my retinas. My brain shorts out.
“Holy shit!” I yelp, the flashlight beam jerking wildly as I stumble back. “I am so sorry!”
I don’t wait for a reaction. I don’t wait to see if they stop or if they turn around. I spin on my heel, nearly tripping over my own boots, and scramble back into the house.
I slam the door shut and lock it, leaning back against the wood as if it could keep out the utter humiliation currently burning through my veins.
“Oh my god,” I breathe, pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes. “Oh my god.”
I just saw my brother having sex. I just saw all three of them having sex. With Norah.
I groan, sliding down until I hit the floor. This is hardly the first time—I’ve walked in on Norah before, usually in compromising positions in various rooms of this house.
I mean, I’m happy for her, truly. She found her pack, and they adore her. But damn, that woman has a libido that does not adhere to a schedule.
And Jude… that is my brother. That is the man who I helped with his math homework and who taught me how to drive a stick shift.
Another shudder runs through me.
I haul myself up and grab my glass of water, taking a long gulp to try to wash away the image. It doesn’t work.
A few minutes pass, the silence in the kitchen now thick with awkward anticipation. Then the back door clicks open.
I stiffen, staring resolutely at the refrigerator magnets.
Three large bodies file in, bringing a gust of cold air and the scent of snow and… other things. They are fully dressed now, zipped up and looking remarkably composed for men who were just engaging in an outdoor orgy.
“Goodnight, Amber,” Ryker rumbles, giving me a sheepish tip of his chin as he heads toward the stairs.
“Night, Amber,” Dorian adds, scrubbing a hand through his hair, refusing to make eye contact with me either. They vanish up the steps like shadows.
Jude is the last one in. He doesn’t utter a sound. He walks past the kitchen island, his jaw set tight, eyes fixed strictly on the floorboards.
He looks like he wants the ground to swallow him whole. He speeds up his pace, practically jogging up the stairs after his packmates.
And then there’s Norah.
She steps into the kitchen, her face the color of a ripe tomato. She’s adjusting her scarf, though it doesn’t do much to hide the bite mark on her neck or the general glow of satisfaction radiating from her skin.
She looks everywhere but at me.
“I…” I start, then stop. “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to—I thought it was a raccoon.”
Norah lets out a nervous laugh, moving to the sink to fill her own glass. “It’s okay. I’m the one who… well. We thought everyone was asleep.”
“I was,” I assure her, leaning against the counter. “I was thirsty and then I heard a noise and thought it was that damn raccoon again. Then… you know.”
She groans, resting her forehead on the cabinet door for a second before turning to face me. “I am so mortified. I just needed… well, the hormones are crazy, and we didn’t want to risk waking Maisie up.”
“Your house,” I remind her, gesturing vaguely with my glass. “You don’t have to apologize for anything. I’m just the one who needs to invest in some blinds. Or maybe a bell I can ring before I step onto the deck.”
Norah cracks a genuine smile at that, taking a sip of her water. “Still. Jude is your brother. That’s weird.”
“It’s definitely up there on the list of things I never needed to see.”
We stand there for a moment, the awkwardness slowly fading into the comfortable camaraderie we’ve built over the last few months. Norah sets her glass down, her expression shifting to something more serious.
“How are you feeling?” I ask her. “When I got home you were taking a nap.”
“I actually had to go to the hospital earlier this evening.” Her fingers trace the rim of her cup.
My stomach drops, the nightmare flashing back in an instant. “Is everything okay? The baby?”
It’s so easy to… Fuck. I can’t even think about that right now.
“Yes, yes, everyone is fine.” She waves a hand dismissively, but her eyes hold a lingering worry. She knows exactly why I would be worried. “Just some cramping. Simon says it’s normal given the… circumstances. But he suggested I pick up some things from Hazel & Vine to help with the intensity.”
She is referring to Dr. Simon Hale, who is her best friend’s mate and also the town doctor.
“Did you already go to the apothecary? I can pick them up for you after work tomorrow.”
“I already did. Miss Thea blended me a special tea. It’s got red raspberry leaf, cramp bark, and a touch of something called moonflower essence.
She claims it helps settle the mini-heats and keeps the…
urges… from being quite so overwhelming.
” Norah sighs, leaning her hip against the counter.
“I think it might be working. Or maybe I’m just exhausted.
But the cramping has eased up since I started drinking it. ”
“I’m glad,” I tell her, meaning it. “You need to rest. You’re growing a human.”
“I know.” She looks toward the ceiling, toward the rooms where the guys are likely pretending to be asleep. “They’re taking good care of me. Too good, sometimes. I feel like I’m constantly under supervision.”
“That’s what they do,” I reply. “It’s in the Alpha DNA. They see something they view as fragile, they want to wrap it in bubble wrap.”
She nods, then turns the conversation, her eyes brightening. “How’s the shop? God, I miss running my own business sometimes. Just the quiet solitude of arranging stems, you know? Knightly Blooms feels like a lifetime ago.”
“It’s going well,” I assure her. “People love the holiday arrangements we’ve been putting out. The winter whites and the holly bundles are flying off the shelves.”
Norah smiles wistfully. “Did you order the new stock of eucalyptus? I always found that dried out so fast in the winter.”