Chapter 23 #2
Five minutes later, Amber sits on the edge of my sofa, her posture rigid. She holds her wine glass in both hands, knuckles white, staring into the liquid like it holds the answers to the universe, but it does little to mask her anxiety.
“You look like you’re awaiting execution,” Fallon observes. He has his boots up on the coffee table, an arm thrown over the back of the chair.
She jumps slightly. “I’m just... not used to this. Huge dinners. With guys who aren’t my brother.”
She takes a long drink of wine. “I know Alphas share Omegas. Obviously. Jude, Ryker, Dorian... I’ve seen it. But how does this work? With you three and me? Do I... date all of you? Or is it a group thing?”
“We date you,” Eli says immediately. He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “We take you out. We spend time with you individually. We want to know you, Amber. Not just as a pack, but as people.”
“And,” Fallon adds, “we claim you. Eventually. If it gets that far. That scent marker on your neck? That’s just the start. We’d want you wearing our bite, our scent. Claimed.”
“That sounds... possessive,” she murmurs.
“It’s protective,” I correct. “And it’s not without your consent. Every step of this, Amber, requires your say. If you want just one of us, we accept that. If you want none, we step back. We don’t force this.”
She nods, digesting this. “And the... the physical part?”
“We share,” Fallon says simply. “If you’re open to it.”
She hesitates, glancing between us. “What about you guys? I mean, have you ever... tried anything with each other?”
“Absolutely not,” Eli says, his tone firm.
“Ever,” Fallon adds.
“Except that one time,” I say, mostly to see Fallon squirm.
He glares at me. “That does not count.”
Amber leans forward, interest piqued. “What one time?”
Fallon sighs, dropping his head back against the chair. “High school. Tenth grade. Seven minutes in heaven. I was in a closet with Tyler Henderson. He had very nice lips. I thought, maybe I’m flexible. We kissed for about thirty seconds.”
“And?” Amber prompts.
“And I realized I was incredibly straight,” Fallon finishes. “I spent the rest of the party avoiding him because I felt bad about the boner I gave him that I couldn’t do anything with.”
Amber laughs. It’s a bright, genuine sound that breaks some of the tension in the room. The corners of my eyes crinkle in response.
“Tragic,” I murmur.
“Very,” Fallon agrees. “So, no. It’s just you, Sunshine. Three Alphas, one Omega.”
The timer in the kitchen dings, cutting through the conversation.
“Dinner,” I announce, standing up. The relief of leaving the heavy conversation and returning to the known territory of food is palpable.
I move to the kitchen, pulling the roast from the oven. The duck fat has rendered down, coating the root vegetables in a glossy sheen.
The scent of thyme and roasted meat fills the air, rich and savory. I slice the beef against the grain, the pink center exposed perfectly.
We gather around the reclaimed wood table. I serve the plates—roast, parsnips, carrots, a generous ladle of the red wine reduction sauce.
I pour Amber another glass of the pinot, topping off Eli’s and Fallon’s glasses.
We eat in relative silence for the first few minutes. The only sounds are the clink of silverware against china and the appreciative noises Eli makes.
“This is incredible, Knox,” Amber says, cutting into a carrot. “Honestly. It’s the best thing I’ve eaten in months.”
“Knox takes his food seriously,” Eli says around a mouthful of potato.
“It’s respect for the ingredients,” I say. “I’m glad you enjoy it.”
As the meal progresses, the conversation flows easier. We talk about the restaurant, about a shipment of bad fish Eli rejected last week, about the snow forecast. But I watch her.
She watches us back.
I catch her gaze on Fallon when he laughs, the way she smiles at Eli when he refills her water. But then her eyes drift to me. They dart away quickly, shyly, like she’s been caught doing something forbidden.
Her teeth catch her bottom lip, pulling the plush flesh into her mouth. She sucks on it, a nervous habit, worrying the skin.
My fork halts halfway to my mouth.
I realize, with a pang of something ugly and jealous, that I’m the only one in this room who hasn’t kissed her.
Eli had her in his car, tangled in his lap. Fallon had her by the river, her mouth red and swollen from his attention.
I have nothing but the memory of her hand in mine and a chaste brush of lips to her cheek.
I stare at her mouth. The way her lip pulls white under the pressure of her teeth. I want to be the one biting that lip. I want to be the one making her eyes dilate like that.
The need to establish my claim, to mark her as mine as Fallon and Eli have done, burns in my gut. I grip my fork until the metal bites into my palm.
“Knox?” Eli asks.
I blink, looking up. “Oui?”
“You okay? You zoned out there for a second.”
“Fine,” I say, forcing myself to cut a piece of roast. “Just thinking about the menu for next week.”
We finish the meal. I stand to clear the plates, but Amber waves me off.
“No, sit,” she says. “You cooked. I’ll help.”
“We’ll do dishes together,” I insist.
She relents, stacking the plates. We work in the kitchen, the three of us moving around one another with the ease of long practice.
Amber dries while I wash. Fallon leans against the counter, watching her.
“So,” Fallon says, breaking the comfortable silence. “We’ve talked about dating. We’ve talked about claiming. What about the logistics? The mechanics?”
Amber drops the plate she’s holding. It clatters into the sink with a loud crash.
“Fallon,” Eli warns.
“What? She’s wondering,” Fallon says, unrepentant. “Look at her face. It’s written all over it. Three Alphas, one bed. How does that even work, right?”
I nearly choke on the air I’m breathing. I grab a towel, wiping my mouth, staring at my brother in horror.
Amber’s face is the color of a ripe tomato. She refuses to look at us, scrubbing a glass with far too much vigor.
“It’s a valid question,” she whispers, so quietly I almost miss it. “I mean... I’ve tried to... research it. But the porn I found was all Betas.” She glances at Fallon. “I don’t get how three Alphas could... you know... without killing each other.”
Eli steps up behind me, his hand landing warm and heavy between my shoulder blades. He rubs a circle, silently telling me to breathe. To stop reacting.
Fallon laughs, pushing off the counter. He walks over to her, leaning in close. He isn’t deterred by her blush; he feeds on it.
“See, that’s the problem with Beta porn,” he says, his tone dropping, turning intimate. “It’s performative. It’s about ego. Pack sex isn’t about ego. It’s about sharing the experience. It’s about sensation.”
He reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She freezes, her eyes wide.
“Imagine,” he says softly, “three sets of hands on you. One holding you down, one mapping your spine, one between your legs. It’s not about taking turns, Amber. It’s a flood. It’s overwhelming.”
Amber’s breath hitches. She stares at him, her chest rising and falling faster.
“It sounds intense,” she breathes.
“It is,” I say. The words leave my mouth before I can stop them.
Fallon looks at me, grinning. He knows he’s got her. He knows he’s got me too.
“It can be,” I amend, my voice rougher. “If done right. It would be... overwhelming good.”
Amber whimpers, a tiny, broken sound. She sets the glass down, her hand trembling.
“Yeah?” she whispers.
Fallon drags his tongue over his teeth, a gesture that screams of hunger. “We could put you right on this table, Amber. Right now. Show you exactly how it works. Three sets of hands. No waiting.”
“Fuck,” Eli groans from behind me. He drops his forehead to my shoulder.
Amber stares at the island countertop, then at Fallon. The air in the kitchen is charged enough to power the city grid.
“I... I thought this was just going to be talk,” she stammers. “Dinner and talk.”
“It can be just talk,” I say quickly. I shoot a glare at Fallon that tells him to shut the fuck up. “We don’t have to do anything you aren’t ready for. This is about comfort, not pressure.”
Fallon looks at her, his eyes dark. “Is that what you want, Amber? Just talk?”
I wait. My heart is a hammer in my throat.
I wait for her to say yes. To ask to go home. To put an end to this torture that has me balanced on a knife’s edge of control.
She looks at Eli, who is watching her with worried warmth. She looks at Fallon, who is watching her with predatory heat.
Then she turns her head and looks at me.
The fear is there. The hesitation. But beneath it, burning bright and wild, is curiosity. And want.
She shakes her head.
“No,” she says.
My control snaps.
It doesn’t break; it shatters. I drop the towel onto the counter. I don’t think about the rule. I don’t think about the restaurant, or the timing, or the fact that my brothers are standing right there.
I move. Two steps and I’m in front of her, crowding her back against the sink.
“Knox?” Eli says, a warning.
I ignore him.
I reach out, threading my fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck. Her skin is hot, her pulse thumping against my wrist.
“You said yes to this,” I rumble, staring down at her mouth. “To us.”
“I did.”
“Then let me show you.”
I don’t give her time to brace. I don’t give myself time to second-guess. I crush my mouth down on hers.
She gasps, her lips parting in surprise, and I take the invitation. I thrust my tongue into her mouth, tasting the wine she drank, tasting the sweetness that is just Amber.
I want more of her. I need more of her.
I grip her hair tighter, tilting her head back to change the angle. She makes a sound, a moan that vibrates against my lips, and her hands come up to clutch my biceps.
She tastes better than I imagined. Better than any sauce, any wine. She is addictive.
I pull back just enough to see her face. Her eyes are glazed, her mouth swollen and wet. I look at that bottom lip she was abusing earlier.
Releasing her hair, I drop my hand to her chin. My thumb drags over her lip, pulling it down, exposing the wet, pink interior.
“Open,” I command.
She does, her breath hitching.
I lean back in, sealing my mouth over hers, and tug her lower lip into my mouth with my teeth. I suck on it, hard, feeling the blood rush to the surface under my tongue.
She melts against me, her knees buckling. I wrap an arm around her waist, hauling her up against my chest, holding her weight as I devour her.
This is mine. This hunger. This taste. It’s all mine.