Chapter 46
Chapter Forty-Six
EMILY
P enny doesn’t move as I ease her into the crib in Mom and Dad’s guest bedroom, but I still don’t breathe until I’ve shut the door and headed toward the kitchen. Mom looks up from where she’s prepping cinnamon rolls for tomorrow’s family brunch, setting them on a large baking tray.
“That was faster than typical,” she says.
I can’t help but mirror the small curve of her lips. “Probably means tonight will be a mess.”
She laughs then, and I sink onto a stool at the island. I should head back to my place and actually work on the massive to-do list that fueled me bringing Penny over to nap this morning at my parents’ place. Instead, I drop my head onto my arm and let my eyes close.
Mom runs her fingers through my hair. “After today, the branding moves should be finished, and it should calm down a bit.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, I know. I’d somehow forgotten just how busy June is.”
And the trial for that bastard isn’t making it any less hectic. The first announcements broke shortly after Lance went back to his main office in Missoula Tuesday morning, two days ago now.
The front door opens, and Dad’s voice echoes to us.
“Mail came early, so I picked it up.” He sets a stack of letters and a larger, unadorned envelope on the counter next to me. He kisses the crown of my head. “Joan sent me home with your syrup, too, darling. It’s by the front door with Penny’s things so you don’t forget it.”
“Thanks, Dad.” Even my voice rings with exhaustion.
His smile is soft as he adjust his glasses. “I remember those days,” he murmurs. “Just one more big day, and all three of you can breathe.”
“Until we go to Nashville in two weeks,” I mutter.
Mom laughs now, too. “You sure you want to travel with him this winter?”
“Absolutely.”
That possessive-tinged edge creeps into my vanilla scent as it pulses. Not that Mom or Dad notice. Thank God they’re both Betas, honestly. Otherwise the last fifteen years would have been even more embarrassing. Having Ethan know when I’m turned on is bad enough.
The need to keep Triston safe, to keep him near me when he’ll be his most vulnerable, is enough to balance out the travel fatigue that I’m bound to deal with.
Dad sorts through the mail, rolling his eyes at a couple of the envelopes. Then he pauses on the large envelope.
“Oh, this is from the Council.” He hands it to me. “I didn’t realize that. Sorry. It was in the main box, not yours.”
My heart climbs my throat as anticipation races down my spine. The small insignia of the Council sits in the center of the envelope, right underneath my address. This must be our finalized pack registration. I look up at my parents.
“Go,” Mom says with another smile. “We’ve got Penny for as long as the three of you need.”
I can’t help but flush even as I ease out of the stool.
“Thank you.”
I give them both hugs that have them chuckling.
“I’ve missed this Emily, the one that is bubbling with happiness,” Dad says as I turn to grab my shoes. “I’m proud of you for finding her again.”
I pause and look over my shoulder. Happiness bubbles under my sternum just like Dad described. It’s been several months since it’s flowed so easily, since the postpartum anxiety didn’t have me in its clutches so heavily. “Me, too.”
Then I’m rushing out to the barn and Redwood, the packet clutched tightly in my hand.
BEAU
Triston looks over his shoulder as he adjust his hat. When he tenses, I look, too, abandoning the piece of prairie grass I’d been slowly stripping to pass the time while we confirm the newest calves are handling the move to the far pastures well.
A chestnut horse grows closer, the rider’s long hair billowing the same way as the horse’s mane.
I glance at my phone, frowning. Why is Emily out here without texting us?
If something happened with Penny or her parents, she would have called one of us first. Triston twists so he perches on the fence post facing Emily rather than the cattle herd.
I slowly stand, dropping the grass blade and lowering my hat so it blocks the sun a bit better.
Emily’s cheeks are flushed as she stops a few feet away from us and slides out of the saddle, adjusting the blue sundress she’s wearing.
She runs her hand down Redwood’s neck and shoulder.
When Redwood adjusts his weight and gently nudges her hand, she heaves a sigh.
Then she pulls an envelope from a saddle bag on his left hip.
It’s large, exactly like the one Hudson got when he and Olivia registered their pairing with the Council.
Triston freezes next to me, his clove scent pulsing.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
She nods, tucking her a strand of hair behind her ear.
Vanilla surrounds me as she closes the distance, the envelope pressed to her stomach.
Triston whines, that one he makes low in his throat when Emily’s teasing him after Penny’s fallen asleep and we’ve all piled into his nest—or cuddled on the couch and have a movie prepped to watch.
The low timbre of it, the breathless desperation, goes straight to my dick.
It jerks, hard between one breath and the next.
Fuck, he can’t make sounds like that when we’re not even sure this is going to end well.
I adjust my hard-on while both of my partners are distracted.
“What’s that?” My voice is only moderately hoarse.
Thank fuck.
Instead of saying anything, she holds the packet out to Triston.
He takes it in a trembling grasp. He pushes a finger under the corner and eases open the flap, ripping the glue in one smooth slide.
The breeze kicks up as he pulls the first paper from the envelope, and it snaps in the wind, collapsing around his hand.
I take the envelope without a word so he can force the paper flat.
Tears slowly line his lashes, turning his eyes glassy, as he reads the announcement sent by the Council.
“N-no long forms necessary,” he says, looking at Emily.
She raises a single eyebrow, her lips pulling into a smirk that has me wanting to drop her to her knees in front of me. Fuck , that look just does it for me. Every time. My dick twitches, straining against the restrictive denim and chaps I’m wearing. He drops his gaze back to the paper.
“With our most sincere congratulations,” he reads, “we inform you that your registration has been successfully completed. From this day forward, Ms. Emily Monroe, Mr. Beau Pierce, and Mr. Triston Harding will now be known under the common pack name of Carpenter. In addition, the child of Ms. Monroe and Mr. Harding has also been granted the pack name. Please see attached her updated birth certificate reflecting her permanent name change to Penelope Michaela Carpenter.”
He looks from her to me, and then one of the tears is falling down his cheek. I swipe it away with a thumb.
“Carpenter,” I murmur.
Emily echoes me. Her hand cups Triston’s cheek. “I like it.”
Triston nods and then kisses the inside of Emily’s wrist. His scent intensifies, and she tenses for a heartbeat.
“Fuck, you can’t do that,” she mumbles. “Not when I’m already doing my best to not jump you out here in the middle of the wilderness.”
“I might be all right with you doing just that,” he says, mirth in his voice.
I take a step closer, looping a finger in one of his belt loops. He sucks in a startled gasp as I kiss him, forcing it hard and deep, using it to convey every single racing emotion running through me. Happiness. Excitement. Gratitude. A need I’ve only ever felt with him, with her, with them .
When he pulls away, his chest heaves with his panting.
“I… uh, have another question for you both,” he says as Emily takes a step closer, her side brushing mine. The soft slide of her hair on my arm has my dick downright aching .
“What’s that?” she purrs. She runs her hand up his chest, slowly undoing the top button of his Western-style shirt, pushing the sides apart until the edge of his tattoo is visible.
“What about bonding?”
Emily freezes.
“You’re sure?” I ask.
His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. His clove scent pulses, and Emily practically vibrates beside me. It’s a matter of seconds before she pounces and locks him whether there’s a bonding or not.
“I am.” His voice rings clear and true through the open pasture.
I can’t help but kiss him again. And then Emily’s there, too, and the kiss is a mess of tongues and breath. She pulls his hat from his head and eases it onto her own. A sound rumbles through him, an amalgamation of a growl and a groan and a whimper.
“Yeah, cowboy,” she whispers against our lips. “We’ll bond you.”
“Hell yeah, we will,” I add.
Triston kisses us both again, his hands as desperate as mine, and before I realize what’s happening, we’re falling.
Triston laughs as he sprawls on the grass.
Emily doesn’t miss a single second, undoing his buckle and sliding down the zipper of his jeans.
He gasps as she palms his dick. I lower to my knees beside her, slowly undoing my own zipper and buckle as she guides him to her cunt and slides down him in one smooth slide that has my own dick twitching.
Fuck, she’s stunning when she’s dominant.
Triston gasps, and then her eyes are on me. She opens her mouth, holding her tongue flat in universal invitation. With a smirk, I let her taste me, swallow me.
“Holy Jesus fuck ,” Triston grunts.
His hands are on my legs, on my sides, on her hips, constantly moving points of contact as she works us both right to the edge.
Her mouth is fucking heaven, wet and tight, her tongue exploring every single inch of me, focusing on the ones she knows will have my knees shaking and that heat gathering between my hips.
She swallows as I hit the back of her throat.
My stomach clenches, and heat shoots down my spine.
“Firecracker,” I warn.
She does it again, harder than before, and I groan.
Triston traces where her lips stretch around me, one of his callouses catching on the root of my dick, and I can’t hold back the orgasm.
Desperately, I pull back enough my cum lands on her tongue instead of forcing it down her throat.
And then sensation rushes through me, weakening my knees and stealing my breath.
She hums around my dick, and it only has another wave buffeting me.
I twist my hands into her hair, desperate to keep from losing my balance and hurting her or Triston.
It takes an embarrassing amount of time to regain enough of my thoughts to pull away from her and drop back onto my heels.
The minute I do, she grins. Then she leans forward, bracketing her palms on either side of Triston’s head. She skims her lips across the hollow of his throat.
“Where do you want us?” she asks as she pulls a bit of his skin between her teeth.
“Where everyone will see it,” Triston admits, his cheeks and neck flushed a dark red. “Where every picture they take of me will show it off. Even when I’m riding.” He grunts and brackets her hips, pushing up into her. “Especially when I’m riding.”
She doesn’t say anything, only lets her lips trace up his throat to that spot under his ear that makes him shudder.
It’s the same this time as she bruises it with an expertise that has me getting hard all over again.
Triston reaches for me, palming my thigh even as Emily falls right over the edge herself.
Her body tightens and then shudders. The next moment, Triston cries out, louder than any time before.
His back arches, and his nails dig into the leather of my chaps.
When Emily pulls away, there’s a perfect double crescent of blood left from her teeth.
And, fuck, now I truly am hard again. My dick twitches as she looks over at me, a bit of red on her lips, too.
She takes my hand and pulls me forward. Without overthinking it, I bite the same spot, holding her hand the entire time.
Triston arches again, and then there’s the pulsing beat of his sated pleasure sitting in my chest. A splash of satisfaction joins it a heartbeat later.
I know it’s softer, more subtle than what they feel with each other. I don’t care. The feel of them inside me, their scents surrounding me, is more than enough for me.
“Love you,” I murmur.
They both laugh. And then it’s there, in my chest. Their love and happiness and satisfaction.
Perfection.