36. Syn
36
SYN
“We can’t let this distract us from finding Jeremy and Amélie,” Tarquin says as we finally pull up to the manor house. “Yes, we will have to jump when Eli says, but for now, we go ahead as planned.”
“Any more news?” Declan asks.
“Not yet,” Tarquin replies.
I sit there in silence, stiff, cold, terrified, but also hopeful. These alphas didn’t have to come for me. They could have left me there to deal with it on my own. Their scents fill the car, making my head swim, and I feel a rush of slick between my thighs. Declan and Tristan, on either side of me, stiffen, and my head suddenly feels too warm.
No, no, no . This can’t be happening.
Tristan grips my hand, lacing our fingers together, a low growl rumbling from his chest. It affects the other alphas, but James the driver is oblivious, thank fuck. This is so embarrassing. My heat is coming fast, and there can be only one reason for that so early—that doesn’t include using heat inducers. It means I’ve found my mates. My scent-matched mates.
I feel the SUV come to a stop, but I’m too focused on the overwhelming sensations coursing through my body. The scents of the three alphas who have swooped in to save me, not once, but twice, have become almost unbearably potent. Each breath draws them deeper into my lungs, making my skin prickle with heat.
“James, you’re dismissed for the day,” Tarquin says, his voice a controlled rumble. “Take the rest of the staff with you.”
“Yes, sir,” James replies.
As soon as James exits the vehicle, Tarquin turns to look at me, his blue eyes darkening to midnight. “Synthia.”
Just my name on his lips sends a shiver down my spine. I’m still wearing his jacket, surrounded by his scent, but it’s not enough. Nothing is enough right now. “I didn’t take anything!” I blurt out. “I swear!”
Declan’s hand settles on my thigh, his touch searing my skin. “We aren’t accusing you of anything. Scent compatibility can trigger early heats. Especially with multiple matches.”
“I can’t do this,” I gasp, panic rising alongside desire. “Not now. We have to find Amélie!”
“We will find her,” Tristan says, his voice soothing against my fraying nerves. “But you need to take care of yourself first.”
His words ignite a flare of anger that cuts through the haze of my impending heat. “Take care of myself? That monster has my daughter! I don’t have time for this!”
I try to pull away, but I’m sandwiched between Declan and Tristan in the back seat, with Tarquin’s intense gaze pinning me from the front. My body betrays me, responding to their proximity even as my mind rebels, and I purr loudly, setting off their alpha instincts even more.
Especially Tarquin’s. “We haven’t found her location yet. The search for Amélie doesn’t stop because of this.”
“But I need to be part of it,” I insist, my voice cracking. “I need to be there when you find her.”
Declan’s hand moves from my thigh to cup my face, turning me toward him. “And you will be. But going into heat without proper care could land you in the hospital. How would that help Amélie?”
The logic pierces my panic. I slump against the seat, tears threatening. “This is the worst possible timing.”
“There isn’t anything we can do about that,” Tristan says. “We have to see this through and then hopefully by then you will have Amélie back in your arms.” He shifts uncomfortably and opens the car door. He climbs out, and I see why. His cock is raging. He has been thrown into his rut because of this. Because of me. “Let’s get you back to your room, you need to nest.”
I follow Tristan out of the car on shaky legs, caught between two overwhelming forces—my desperate need to find my daughter and the biological imperative that’s rapidly taking over my body. The cool morning air hits me but does nothing to ease the burning beneath my skin.
Tarquin is beside me in an instant, his large hand pressing against the small of my back. Even through his jacket, the touch sends electric currents racing up my spine. I bite back a moan.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, picking me up and cradling me. I instinctively bury my head into his chest, snuggling as close as I can, trying to absorb his scent by osmosis.
The four of us make our way into the house. Every step is an agony of friction—my thighs sliding together, slick gathering between them. My nipples harden against the thin cotton of my pyjamas.
“We need to get her upstairs,” Declan says, his voice strained. The scent of alpha rut is surrounding me, making my head swim and my knees weak.
Tarquin takes me up steadily, with me clinging to him, mortified. If this had happened at the IPP station, I would’ve been in so much trouble. If they come back now, I will be playing right into their suspicions about me.
“The wardrobe,” Tarquin murmurs as we enter my room.
Tristan crosses over and opens it, probably expecting to pull out extra blankets and pillows. Instead, he finds my hasty make-shift nest from the other night.
“Wait,” I say, struggling in Tarquin’s grip. “You’re still paying me!”
“What?” he asks, confused by my sudden outburst.
“I can’t be here while you’re paying me! It’s illegal! I’m already walking a fine line with the IPP on my back!” I squirm out of Tarquin’s arms, going dizzy as my feet hit the floor. I grip the side of my head, my other hand reaching for something to hold me steady. It hits Declan’s outstretched hand, but I shove him away. “I have to go!”
“Or we can not pay you,” Tristan points out.
“I think we have all agreed, or at least come to the conclusion, that we are meant to be together,” Declan points out.
“But—”
“Just say you quit being an escort,” he adds, interrupting me.
“I...” My mouth goes dry, his words crashing through the heat haze. Quitting would mean no more income, but also no more clients, no more pretending. No more using my body as a transaction. “I can’t just?—”
“Why not?” Tarquin asks, his voice gentle. “We’re your alphas now, Synthia. We’ll provide for you. We will get Amélie back. No more extortion. No need to keep this up.”
“You don’t know that!” I cry, backing away until my shoulders hit the wall. “You think this is some fairy tale? That just because we’re—we’re scent compatible, everything magically works out? Nothing in my life has ever worked out!”
The three alphas exchange glances, a silent communication passing between them. Declan moves closer, his movements slow and deliberate.
“You’re right,” he says, surprising me. “Nothing is guaranteed. But answer me this—are you happy being an escort?”
The question lands like a punch to my gut. Happy? I’ve never allowed myself to think in those terms. Survival doesn’t leave room for happiness.
“It doesn’t matter if I’m happy,” I whisper. “It kept me alive. It kept me looking for Amélie.”
“And now?” Tristan asks, his grey eyes intense. “Now that you have us?”
A wave of heat crashes through me, making me gasp and clutch at the wall for support. My knees buckle. Tarquin is there in an instant, catching me around the waist. “This isn’t just a scent-match, Synthia. You are using that as an excuse to deny what you know is the truth. This is fate. Down to every last second that led to you being here right now. Don’t you get it? This is what was meant to happen all along.”
“How can you say that? How can you have that trust in me?”
“I have that trust in us .”
“Why are you so perfect?” I blurt out, tears in my eyes as the cramps start and I double over.
“Oh, I’m not,” he says wryly. “Except with you. You have this way of bringing a part of me out into the open that has been buried for a long time. Maybe it was never even there. Maybe you created it. It’s hard to tell.”
His words pierce through the fog of heat in my mind, and something inside me breaks—not in the way fragile things shatter, but in the way dams give way to rushing water. I fall into his arms, surrendering to the inevitability of what’s happening between us.
“I’m scared,” I whisper against his chest.
“I know,” he murmurs, his lips brushing my temple. “So am I. But we’re not alone anymore.”
Declan approaches, his scent mingling with Tarquin’s in a heady combination that makes me moan in longing. “We’ll take care of you.”
Tristan completes the circle around me, his presence calming and electrifying. “We won’t stop looking, but this is happening, and we can’t stop it.”
Another wave of my heat washes over me, more intense than the last. I clutch at Tarquin’s shirt, a whimper escaping my lips.
“We need to get her settled,” Tarquin says, his voice tight with restraint. He lifts me again, carrying me to the wardrobe where my makeshift nest awaits.
As he lays me down, I grab his wrist. “Wait, this isn’t appropriate. You all can’t fit in here with me.”
“Then we will make another,” Tarquin says gently. I nod as he helps me up. “Tell us what you need.”
“Duvets, pillows, blankets, something from each of you…”
Tristan moves immediately, crossing to the hallway. I can hear him opening linen closets, gathering materials for our nest. Tarquin disappears and returns a few moments later, his arms laden down with a dark grey duvet that has his scent all over it. I moan as more slick pools between my legs. He steadily arranges the bedding, adding more layers as Tristan brings in more, creating a large, soft nest under the window. I watch through half-lidded eyes as these powerful alphas work together, for me. The sight is almost as intoxicating as their scents. I should be doing this myself. I need it just-so, but watching them is too precious, and I don’t want to stop them. I will fix it after they leave me.
Declan pulls off his tee with one hand over his head and lays it down. Tristan does the same, and I crawl into it, snuggling down, still wrapped in Tarquin’s coat, which is now damp with sweat and slick.
I burrow deeper into the nest, instinctively arranging the alphas’ clothing around me, inhaling their combined scents that make my head spin and my body ache with need. The cramps intensify, and I curl into myself, letting out a small whimper.
“What do you need, Synthia?” Tarquin asks, his voice strained with the effort of maintaining control.
I look up at the three alphas standing at the edge of my nest, their pupils dilated, bodies tense with restraint. The reality of my situation crashes over me—three powerful men, all triggered into rut by my heat. All apparently meant for me.
“You,” I say truthfully. “Just you.”