Chapter thirty-five
Lily
Waking up feels like surfacing after being underwater too long.
Everything comes into focus slowly—the warmth, the blankets, Miles wrapped around me.
The last thing I remember is the car, the dark stretch of highway, Miles’s pulse under my cheek.
Now I’m here, in the pack nest, cocooned in blankets and scent.
I have a foggy, dreamy flash of being carried in from the SUV.
Garrett’s chest under my cheek. His heartbeat a steady rhythm. I went under.
Miles has me wrapped up. His arm’s heavy over my waist, chest warm against mine, nose tucked into my neck like he’s never letting go. He’s breathing slow and deep, totally out, dead to the world.
Gabriel’s on the other side of him, not sleeping at all. He’s propped up against the nest wall, one arm behind his head, watching me. And he’s looking at me like he’s got nothing left to hide. My chest does something stupid.
“I love seeing you two like this,” Gabriel says, all quiet. He doesn’t want to wake him.
I stare at him, waiting for the ground to shift, for the affection to turn out to be a trick. Good things in this house tend to explode.
But Gabriel keeps going, walking right past every wall I’ve got up, maybe on purpose. “It makes me feel complete. Both of my omegas. Together. Safe.”
Both of my omegas. He just says it. Like I’m his, and Miles is too, and that’s that.
I smile at him, tiny and uncertain. I don’t know if I believe it.
Miles stirs. His arm tightens, then relaxes. I feel him check the situation. Me in front. Gabriel behind. Nest all around. I brace for the old reaction—the rage, the possessive snap that always comes when I’m too close to his alpha.
But it doesn’t come.
He kisses my neck under my ear lazily. He knows where he is and he’s happy about it.
“Good morning,” he says, voice muffled against my skin.
Then he turns over and kisses Gabriel. I watch their mouths meet, Gabriel’s hand cupping Miles’s jaw, Miles leaning into it, bodies fitting together easy. I wait for the ache—the jealous, empty scrape that used to hollow me out whenever I saw them close.
There’s nothing now. I just like watching them. How he leans into his alpha. How Gabriel touches him like he might disappear. Their scents tangled together: cedar and burnt sugar, smoke and iron, something new every time.
The bedroom door bangs open.
Garrett launches himself into the nest. Blankets go flying, pillows scatter, and he pretty much lands on top of Miles, all elbows and knees, grinning like a kid who found all his favorite people in one place.
Miles grunts. “What the fuck, Garrett?”
“Good morning to you too!” Garrett’s already worming his way in, all enthusiasm, like he’s missed us for years instead of overnight. “Where are my morning kisses? You’re all in here having an adorable moment and you didn’t even invite me.”
I lose it. The sight is ridiculous. A pile of three men and me, Garrett’s knee somewhere in the mix, Miles caught between wanting to kill him and wanting to laugh.
Gabriel extricates himself from the heap with the patience of someone who’s seen this before. “Coffee,” he mutters, climbing out. “I’m going to need caffeine to survive this.”
Garrett immediately turns to Miles and puckers up. “Kisses. Now. Or I riot.”
“You literally just body-slammed me.”
“Because I care.”
Miles kisses him. Not a polite one, either—it’s deep and thorough. I start to feel intrusive. I look away to give them a second.
Miles’s free hand finds my jaw and turns me back.
“Watch,” he says.
Then he releases Garrett and puts his lips on mine. His tongue slides into my mouth, hot and demanding, and under the familiar taste of Miles (burnt sugar, bright and sweet) there’s something else. Garrett. Honey and sage, faint but real. The flavor of my match, given from Miles’s tongue.
My whole body lights up. I can’t help it. My omega is clawing at me, every nerve ending screaming for more. I moan into Miles’s mouth, chasing after it.
He pulls back, smug. “You like that? My alpha on your tongue?”
I nod. No point pretending.
“Kiss him.”
My eyes go huge. So do Garrett’s. We look at each other, two people who’ve been orbiting this moment for weeks, stopped only by the invisible fence Miles keeps around his pack.
“I don’t know if I should…”
Because this is bigger than brushing past Garrett in the kitchen or sitting too close beside him on the couch.
This crosses a line that can’t be uncrossed.
If I do it—if I let myself have this—and he changes his mind tomorrow, I don’t get to pretend it didn’t happen.
It’ll sit under my skin. One more thing I wasn’t supposed to want, that I reached for anyway.
My omega doesn’t care. I’m already leaning forward, already chasing the heat of Garrett’s breath, aching for something I’ve been starving for since the gala.
Miles’s fingers tighten on my jaw, dragging my focus back to him.
His eyes are blown wide. Dark. Certain.
“Kiss him now, Lily.”
He lets go. Garrett’s already moving.
He stops in front of me, unsure. His eyes dart to Miles and back to me. Then he just… does it.
The second our mouths touch, I’m gone.
Every craving, every instinct that’s been screaming at me since the gala crashes into that single point of contact. His mouth is soft, sure, and when his tongue slides against mine I nearly sob. Slick floods out of me before I can think.
The taste of him consumes me.
I could do this forever. For a second, when he pulls back, I almost chase him, my lips following before I can stop myself.
Nobody says anything, but something’s shifted anyway.
Miles is still watching me. He doesn’t try to pull us apart even though I’m braced for it.
Garrett doesn’t move. He waits.
I turn back to Miles. He looks almost serene, face flushed, eyes gone dark.
“Fuck,” he breathes. “That was hot.”
I glance down. He’s hard, tenting his sleep pants, nothing left to the imagination. Before I even think about it, I reach out and wrap my hand around him through the fabric. He’s burning up, thick and rigid, and his hips jerk up for the contact.
“Let me handle that,” Garrett says.
He slides down from the nest, and the movement’s so smooth it’s like he’s done it a hundred times before.
He tugs Miles’s pants and boxers off in one practiced swoop.
Miles’s cock springs out, eager, and Garrett doesn’t even pause.
He just takes him, all the way in, swallowing him down whole. He knows exactly what Miles likes.
I never really figured I’d be the type who got off on watching, but the second Garrett’s mouth closes around Miles, my omega reacts.
There’s a heat that flares up inside me, instincts scrambling.
It’s not just the filthy, wet sound, or how Garrett’s throat opens to take Miles deeper until his nose is pressed to Miles’s skin.
It’s the whole thing—the air thick with pheromones, every sense in me fixed on them.
Garrett never lets up. He hums, that same deep, relentless sound, and it’s absolutely wrecking Miles.
Miles’s hand is in Garrett’s hair, grabbing on, loosening, tightening again, like he can’t decide if he wants to shove Garrett down further or haul him up for air.
Garrett’s got his lips wide, wet and shining, and every time Miles tenses, Garrett’s eyes flick up.
He’s enjoying it. The effect he’s having.
Miles’s fingers go white at the knuckles. His back arches when Garrett takes him deep. Garrett’s eager, greedy, and Miles eats it up, groaning, all his edges gone.
My hips are moving. It happens without thinking. Thighs pressed together, squirming, hot all over, and I want so badly to be touched. My breath comes fast. Miles is everywhere, burnt sugar and bare skin, and now Garrett’s there too, that honey-spice scent making my head go fuzzy.
The blankets are a disaster, the nest half destroyed around us. But all I can see, all I can think about, is what’s happening right in front of me. My mouth waters and I can’t look away.
Miles yanks me in, forcing my body flush to his.
His hand’s rough, not even pretending to be gentle, but I’m grateful—I’m part of this.
I’m included. He kisses me again, open and messy, and I taste sweat on his mouth, salt and musk, and underneath that—the faint, dizzying flavor of his alpha, clinging to his tongue.
Garrett’s hands are hard on Miles’s hips, anchoring him.
I watch every bob of his head, his throat working around every inch.
He makes it look easy, but I know he’s working for it, determined, wanting to make Miles come apart.
The sounds are filthy. Wet, choked, slick, so raw I can’t stop thinking about what it would feel like to be the one being taken apart like that.
Miles is rock hard under me. I grind against him, chasing friction, not really caring how desperate I look.
He notices right away, palm sliding up my back and curling around my neck, taking control of the kiss.
He bites my lower lip, hard enough to sting, then soothes it, all while Garrett keeps going, never slowing.
The sounds are everywhere. Garrett’s humming, Miles is panting, and I’m making these tiny, needy noises against Miles’s mouth. The mattress creaks in time with their movements, and every so often, Miles lets out a curse, somewhere between filthy and worshipful.
Miles is getting close—I can feel it. His abs tighten, lungs working overtime, every muscle strung taut.
He pulls away from the kiss, gasping, and mutters, “Fuck, I’m—“ before biting down on his fist to muffle it. Garrett doesn’t back off, just keeps going, hands gripping, mouth relentless.
The veins in Miles’s neck stand out. Sweat beads on his forehead. And then he just breaks.
He locks up, then shudders, jaw loose, eyes rolling back. Garrett doesn’t let go, keeps him in deep, swallowing, not stopping until he’s wrung out every last drop. He’s gentle now, coaxing out the aftershocks while Miles whimpers, lost, no walls left.