Chapter 9
Tamsin
I woke some time later.
For a while, I lay there with my eyes closed, just listening to the low hum of the activity of the base, to distant footsteps, to the soft, steady rhythm of my own heart. It sounded… normal.
Eventually, I opened my eyes, and a soft sound came from the doorway.
I turned instinctively, muscles coiling without thought, and found Griff leaning against the frame. He’d clearly been there a while, watching me, his expression tight in that way that always meant he was thinking too much.
“You’re awake,” he grinned.
“Apparently,” I replied, feeling a small smile tug at my mouth despite everything.
His gaze flicked to my side. “Does anything hurt?”
I shook my head. “No. Not at all.”
Relief crossed his face so fast and so fiercely it stole my breath away. He pushed off the doorframe and crossed the room in three long strides, stopping just short of me.
“Let me see,” he said.
I shifted the sheet and the coat on top of me, baring myself a little bit and turned slightly, letting him look at the scar the lycan had left behind. My face heated just a bit at the small exposure.
He stared at the faint mark for a long moment, jaw clenched, then lifted his eyes to mine. “You’ve healed completely. There isn’t even any bruising anymore.”
“Looks that way. You can stop hovering now.”
“Can’t,” he said immediately.
“Won’t,” I corrected.
He huffed out a breath.
“You’re still stubborn as hell.” I muttered.
“Pot, kettle,” he shot back, grinning in my direction and I rolled my eyes and shook my head.
Before I could come up with something suitably zingy to throw back at him, the door opened again.
Eamon stepped in first, hands already tucked into the pockets of his jacket like he’d been trying very hard not to hover in the hallway. His eyes went straight to me, quick and assessing, the way they always did, checking me over with the calm assessing look of the doctor he would always be.
“Well,” he said mildly, relief threading through his voice despite his attempt at calm. “How’s my most troublesome patient doing?”
I moved slightly against the pillow, suddenly very aware that I was lying there, still very much not dressed, and that Griff was hovering at my side like a particularly large, immovable piece of furniture.
“I’m not troublesome,” I retorted.
Eamon’s mouth twitched. “You woke up early, went running into the woods, shifted, hunted, bathed in a stream, and had to be carried back by one of your mates.”
I opened my mouth.
He lifted a finger. “That was rhetorical.”
Griff snorted.
“I feel fine,” I said instead, softer now. “Better than fine.”
Eamon moved closer, stopping at the foot of the cot. “Any dizziness? Residual heat? Pressure behind the eyes?”
I shook my head. “Nothing like before.”
He nodded, satisfied but not relaxed. “Good. That means the lycan venom has fully burned out.” His gaze flicked briefly to the scar at my side. “Your healing response is… impressive.”
“Try not to sound so excited,” I teased.
He gave me a look that made me squirm just the slightest bit.
Footsteps sounded behind him.
Bishop appeared next, posture straight, movements careful like he didn’t want to startle me. His gaze met mine and softened immediately, the tension in his shoulders easing.
“You look stronger,” he observed simply.
“I feel stronger,” I replied.
A faint smile touched his mouth. “That’s good to hear.”
Elias stepped into the room after that. His gaze locked onto me immediately.
“You’re awake,” he said.
“Seems to be the theme today,” I replied.
The corner of his mouth curved faintly, but his eyes stayed serious. He crossed the room and stopped beside Eamon, his presence solid and unyielding.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
I considered it for a moment. “Like myself,” I answered finally.
I shifted slightly, tugging the sheet up out of habit. Griff immediately noticed and adjusted it for me without thinking, his hand lingering for a second too long before he pulled back.
Eamon noticed too.
So did Bishop.
So did Elias.
The room went quiet in that peculiar way it did when everyone was suddenly aware of the same thing and didn’t quite know how to acknowledge it.
This—whatever this was—was new.
Not just for me.
“So,” I said, breaking the silence, “where’s Nox?”
Griff’s expression tightened. “Out.”
Elias supplied more information. “He went after Commander Dane.”
I exhaled slowly, staring up at the ceiling for a moment before looking back at them. All of them. The way they’d arranged themselves around the cot without meaning to, the four of them surrounding me.
“This is strange,” I admitted quietly.
Eamon raised a brow. “You waking up alive?”
“No,” I responded, then hesitated. “Well, maybe some of that. But mostly this.” I gestured vaguely at the room, at them. “It’s all of you. The fact that you’re my mates now.”
Elias stepped forward until he stood at the side of the cot, close enough that I could almost feel him without him touching me.
“It’s strange because you’re used to standing alone,” he said calmly.
I swallowed but didn’t look away.
Griff lifted his chin behind him, but he didn’t interrupt. Neither did Bishop or Eamon. They watched Elias with the kind of quiet attention that spoke of knowing when a leader needed space to speak.
Elias’s voice lowered slightly, not softer, just more intimate. “Fate put you in my path. I didn’t know your history. But I knew one thing.”
“What?” I asked quietly.
“That you were my mate,” he said simply.
Griff stepped closer, his presence solid at my other side. He ran a hand through his hair, jaw working like he was deciding how honest he could afford to be.
“I’ve known too. For a while now,” he said gruffly.
I turned my head toward him. “What?”
His mouth twitched, something wry and self-deprecating there. “I knew you were my mate long before any of this.” His gaze softened then, losing some of its edge. “I didn’t push. Didn’t make any move to claim you because you weren’t ready and because it mattered to me that you chose me too.”
Bishop stepped forward next, posture straight, hands relaxed at his sides.
“For me,” he said, voice measured, “it was quieter. I felt the pull, but more than that, I trusted you. You listened. You asked questions no one else dared to ask.” His eyes held mine, earnest and unwavering. “I wanted to stand beside you, not above you.”
Eamon nodded as he joined them, his expression thoughtful, a faint smile tugging at his mouth.
“I’m a doctor,” he said, shrugging lightly. “I knew the signs. I knew what you were to me the moment you showed up at my door.”
“So, what now?” I asked softly.
“Now,” Elias answered, “you’re ours. Not because fate demands it, but because every one of us chose you, and because you chose us.”
I looked at all of them, my breath stuck in my throat. I looked at the men who’d fought beside me, bled for me, who waited when they could have just taken me as their mate before I was ready for it.
“I’m glad I have all of you, but this is still strange,” I admitted.
Griff grinned. “Give it time.”
Bishop added quietly, “We’ll be patient.”
Eamon’s eyes twinkled. “Mostly.”
“We’re not going anywhere,” Elias said.
The room felt smaller all of a sudden.
Not because anyone moved closer—though Elias was still standing at the edge of the cot, Griff so close that I could feel the heat of him, Bishop and Eamon nearby too—but because something inside me had come to life.
The bond pulsed, slow and insistent, like a second heartbeat waking up and realizing it had company.
It startled me.
Warmth pooled low in my belly, spreading outward in lazy waves that made my breath hitch.
It started quietly at first, then grew stronger when I realized just how close they all were.
Four of my five men, all mine in a way that went deeper than choice or strategy, their presence threading into me and through me like a force of nature.
I became acutely aware of my own body, of the way the sheet brushed against my skin as I fidgeted on the bed. My nipples tightened, pebbling beneath the thin fabric. I pressed my lips together, embarrassed by how obvious it felt.
Elias’s attention didn’t waver from my face.
The bond pulsed, a low, insistent thrum, and with it came an unmistakable shift in the room, the air warmed, the tension turned from watchful to charged. I could feel them registering it, each in their own way, the scent of me changing, sweet and unmistakable even to myself.
“I don’t know what’s happening,” I gasped.
Elias licked his lips. “We know. You’re a wolf now. You’re going into your first heat.”
I stared at him, trying to stem my disbelief.
My face flamed. “You can’t be serious.”
A slow grin spread across Griff’s face. “Oh, he’s dead serious.”
Eamon leaned against the wall casually, though his eyes held a familiar, doctorly concern. “Your system’s stabilized. Your wolf is asserting dominance, and she’s surrounded by her mates. It’s a potent combination.”
I swallowed hard, heat coiling tighter, slick warmth gathering between my legs.
Great. This was really happening.
I could feel their attention on me, the heat in their gazes, the subtle shifts in posture as they acknowledged what was happening to me. What was happening between us.
“I have to… I have to go,” I said, already trying to swing my legs out of bed. I kept the sheet clutched around me, trying to cover my nakedness beneath it.
Bishop moved before I could protest. He placed a gentle but firm hand on my shoulder, pressing me back onto the cot. “No. You’re not running away from this. From us.”
I looked from Bishop’s steady blue eyes to Elias’s, then to Griff’s. Then my gaze landed on Eamon’s.
“Please,” I whispered, a note of real desperation in my voice.
His expression softened. He crossed the room, pulling up a stool and sitting beside the cot. He reached out, but he didn’t touch me. He just let his hand hover near my knee, a question without words.