Chapter 34 Sweat, Sparkle, And Surrender #2
Tank's fingers flex on my hips, and I can see the flash of something dark in his eyes at the mention of my past. He doesn't like being reminded of how I was treated before. None of them do.
"We should start giving you massages," Elias says, his thumbs digging into the tight muscles at the base of my neck. The pressure is perfect—firm enough to release tension, gentle enough not to hurt. "Regularly. Make it part of the routine."
I let my head fall back so I can look up at him, his face appearing upside-down above me. "If you start giving me massages," I warn, grinning, "I'm probably never going to leave the house."
He smirks down at me—or up at me, from my inverted perspective. "Maybe that's the point."
And then he leans down and kisses me.
It's an awkward angle—my head tilted back, his tilted forward, our lips meeting in a way that shouldn't work but somehow does.
His mouth is warm and tastes faintly of the protein shake he probably had earlier, and his hands slide from my shoulders to cup my jaw, holding me steady while he takes his time exploring.
When he finally pulls back, I'm slightly breathless. "Are you good?" he asks softly, his eyes searching mine. "Really good? After everything this morning?"
I nod, bringing my head back to a normal position so I can look at both of them properly. "I'm good. Really. I'm not as shaken up as I expected to be, honestly."
Lips press against the front of my throat—Tank, taking advantage of my exposed neck to leave a gentle kiss right over my pulse point. The sensation makes me shiver, heat pooling low in my belly.
"You sure?" he asks, his voice a low rumble against my skin. His hand comes up to grip my chin gently, encouraging me to lower my head so I'm looking directly into his eyes. They're dark and warm and genuinely concerned, all traces of teasing gone. "It's okay to not be okay, Sweetness."
"I know." I reach up to touch his face, my sparkly pink nails a stark contrast against his stubbled jaw.
"But I really am okay. I think... I think it's because I actually feel supported.
For the first time in my life, something bad happened and I didn't have to handle it alone.
Julian took care of everything. You two are here.
Ruby distracted me with manicures and mimosas.
It's just... different. Good different."
Tank studies my face for a long moment, reading my expression with that intense focus he brings to everything. Whatever he sees must satisfy him, because he leans up and presses a soft kiss to my lips.
"That's how it should be," he says when he pulls back. "That's how it should have always been. But it should never have happened to begin with, and we're going to make sure it doesn't happen again."
"Absolutely," Elias agrees, and I feel him lean over to press a kiss to my cheek. "Speaking of which—the camera crew is already on site. Installing new cameras at every angle, inside and out. Tank's connections came through."
"Camera crew?" I twist to look at him, surprised. "Already? It's only been a few hours."
"When you know the right people, things move fast," Tank says with a shrug that somehow manages to convey both modesty and the absolute certainty that he could solve any problem if given sufficient motivation. "I also sent some of my connections to fix the windows."
"Fix the—" I stare at him. "Tank, the window was completely destroyed. That's not a quick fix."
"It is when you have the right contractor on speed dial." His smirk is infuriatingly smug. "New glass is already installed. Bulletproof. Impact-resistant. Pretty much everything-proof, really. Anyone who wants to smash through it again is going to need military-grade equipment."
"Bulletproof," I repeat faintly. "You installed bulletproof glass in a bakery."
"In your bakery," Elias corrects. "Or at least the one where you work. And before you say it's too much—it's not. It's the minimum acceptable level of protection for somewhere our Omega spends significant time."
Our Omega. Like it's already decided. Like I'm already theirs, officially and permanently.
I should probably correct him. Remind them that we're still technically in a temporary arrangement, that nothing is official yet, that Valentine's Day is the deadline we agreed on.
But the words don't come. Because I don't want to correct him.
I don't want to remind them. I want to be theirs. I want it so badly it aches.
"Julian confirmed about ten minutes ago," Tank continues, "that the whole place is sparkly new. You should be able to open back up tomorrow, no problem."
"But—" I'm struggling to process. "Hazel's on maternity leave. She can't deal with this kind of stress. I was going to figure out how to—"
"We know," Elias interrupts gently. "That's why we handled it. You're not going to carry the stress of fixing this on your own. That's not how this works."
"You just... fixed it. All of it. In a few hours."
"We're efficient," Tank says dryly. "It's one of our many admirable qualities."
I gawk at them both, genuinely speechless. The bakery was destroyed this morning. The window was shattered, the inside was trashed, there was spray paint on the walls. And now, less than half a day later, it's completely restored. New cameras. Bulletproof glass. Ready to open tomorrow.
Who are these men? What kind of connections do they have? And why do I feel like crying again?
"There's more," Elias says, and something in his tone makes me tense. "Julian's been busy."
"More than bulletproof glass?"
"He went over to your apartment," Tank says. "He's arranging to have your stuff moved. All of it. To our place."
I blink. "What?"
"If they targeted your work," Elias explains, "they're almost certainly going to target your home next. It's the logical escalation. So we're removing the target entirely. Your apartment will be empty by tonight."
"But—" A dozen protests rise to my lips. That's too fast. We haven't discussed this. I don't want to impose. What if—
"What if they target your place?" I ask instead, because that seems like the most legitimate concern. "If someone's coming after me, won't they just follow me to wherever I am?"
Tank chuckles—a low, dark sound that sends a shiver down my spine for entirely different reasons than fear.
"I have tons of haters and enemies. Comes with the territory when you spend a decade doing the kind of work I did.
But no one is ever stupid enough to target an ex-military bodyguard's place of rest." His eyes glint with something dangerous. "It never ends well for them."
He says it casually, like he's discussing the weather. Like the implied threat of violence is just a minor detail, barely worth mentioning. And then he winks at me, like sharing a private joke.
I should probably be concerned about how much that turns me on. I'll examine that later.
His thumb comes up to trace my bottom lip, the touch feather-light and devastatingly distracting. "You smell so fucking good today," he murmurs, his pupils dilating slightly. "Different. Better. What changed?"
My heart rate spikes. Because I know exactly what changed, and I've been building up to this conversation all morning.
"It's probably the pheromones," I say, trying for casual and landing somewhere closer to breathless. "I, um. I kind of stopped my suppressants. So my scent is probably more... prominent."
The reaction is immediate.
Tank goes completely still beneath me, his hands tightening on my hips. Behind me, I hear Elias's sharp intake of breath. The air in the room seems to thicken, charging with an electricity that makes my skin prickle.
"Wait." Elias's voice is careful, controlled, like he's trying very hard not to react until he's certain he heard correctly. "You actually stopped them? Your suppressants?"
I nod, suddenly nervous. I lift my head so I can see his face—he looks stunned, his usual easy confidence replaced by something raw and unguarded.
"I decided..." I take a breath, trying to find the right words.
"I decided that maybe this can actually be official.
Whatever this is between us. And I... I kind of want my heat to be with you.
All three of you. So I figured, once Valentine's Day is done, it'll probably be heat week, and.
.." I trail off, my confidence wavering under the intensity of their stares.
"Yeah. That's. That's what I was thinking. "
Silence.
I feel my face heating up, embarrassment creeping in. "Unless it's too soon? I know we haven't really talked about—I mean, we said we'd figure it out after Valentine's Day, and I'm kind of jumping ahead, and maybe you're not ready for—"
Elias kisses me.
Not a gentle kiss. Not a sweet, reassuring press of lips.
This is consuming—his mouth claiming mine with a desperation that steals my breath and short-circuits my brain.
His hand fists in my hair, tilting my head back, giving him better access to devour me.
His tongue slides against mine, and I hear myself make a sound that's embarrassingly close to a whimper.
By the time he pulls back, I'm gasping for air, my lips swollen and my thoughts scattered.
Before I can recover, Tank's hand grips my chin, forcing my head down so he can reach my mouth.
And then he's kissing me too—deep and thorough and utterly possessive, like he's trying to brand himself onto my soul through sheer force of desire.
His free hand slides up my back, pressing me closer, and I can feel every hard line of his body against mine.
When he finally releases me, I'm dizzy. Actually dizzy, like I might need to hold onto something to keep from floating away.
"That's—" I manage, my voice coming out as a croak. I clear my throat and try again. "That's a yes, then?"
Tank's eyes are nearly black, his pupils blown so wide there's barely any color left. "That's a 'you can't be saying such things in a public place, Sweetness.'"
I become suddenly, acutely aware of our surroundings. The private room. The glass walls. The Alphas in the main gym who have a completely unobstructed view of everything that just happened.
I glance over my shoulder and—yep. There they are.
A collection of gym-goers who have completely abandoned any pretense of working out and are now openly staring at us through the glass.
Some look intrigued. Some look envious. Most look varying degrees of irritated, their Alpha instincts probably screaming at them about an unclaimed Omega being publicly ravished by two other Alphas.
Except I'm not unclaimed. Not anymore. Not if what just happened means what I think it means.
Elias chuckles, the sound strained around the edges. "Mmm, we should probably take this to the car before we get kicked out. Or before someone out there decides to challenge us for you."
"Let them try," Tank mutters, but he doesn't actually sound opposed to the idea of leaving.
I turn back to face him, my cheeks hot, my body thrumming with a restless energy that I don't know how to contain. "I should probably get off your lap."
His grip tightens on my hips. "Give me a minute."
I blink down at him, confused—and then understanding dawns. "Oh." My face, impossibly, gets even hotter. "Oh."
Elias bursts out laughing. "Can't exactly walk through the gym like that, can he?"
"Shut up," Tank says without heat, but there's a hint of color on his cheekbones that I've never seen before. The big, scary, ex-military bodyguard is blushing. Because of me. Because I affect him enough that he can't control his body's response.
I should not find that as gratifying as I do.
Movement near the door catches my eye—the gym manager, a stern-looking Beta woman with a clipboard, is approaching the glass wall.
She pauses to look at us, her expression clearly indicating that she's Seen Some Shit in her career but we're pushing the boundaries even by her standards.
Then she rolls her eyes, turns on her heel, and walks away.
"Pretty sure that was a warning," Elias observes.
"Pretty sure I don't care," Tank responds, but he shifts beneath me in a way that suggests he's regaining control of the situation. After another moment, his grip on my hips loosens. "Okay. I think I can stand up without embarrassing myself now."
"So generous of you," I tease, climbing off his lap with only a small amount of reluctance. The loss of his warmth is immediate and unwelcome, but the promise of what's to come makes it bearable.
He stands, stretching muscles that ripple distractingly, and reaches for the towel he'd draped over a nearby weight rack. "By the way," he says, wiping down his chest with deliberate slowness that I'm pretty sure is designed to torment me, "I'd love to feel these new nails you got."
I hold up my hands, wiggling my sparkly pink fingers. "They're very pretty. And very sharp."
"Sharp?" His smirk is pure sin. "How sharp?"
I step closer, pressing myself against his side and tilting my head up to meet his eyes. "Sharp enough to leave marks on that broad, muscled back of yours. If you're interested in testing them out."
His eyes darken. "Try me."
"Okay, we are definitely leaving now," Elias announces, grabbing both our arms and steering us toward the door. "Before we get permanently banned and have to find a new gym."
We make our way through the main floor, and I can feel every eye in the place tracking our movement.
Tank walks on one side of me, Elias on the other, both of them radiating the kind of possessive energy that tells everyone watching exactly who I belong to.
I should probably feel self-conscious. Instead, I just feel.
.. safe. Wanted. Claimed in the best possible way.
The cold February air hits us as we step outside, a sharp contrast to the heated atmosphere of the gym. Tank's truck is parked nearby—a massive black beast of a vehicle that looks like it could survive an apocalypse and still have fuel to spare.
"So," I say as we approach it, my voice carefully innocent, "after someone fully calms down, we can have fun in the truck?"
Tank shoots me a look that promises retribution. Elias just laughs.
"We can do whatever you want," they both say, almost in unison.
Temptation in the midst of my hot muscled Alphas.