Chapter 41 Mona #5
The clan here operates very differently than Silent Peak, and is significantly more disorganized than I’m used to—but they’ve got enforcers at least. After receiving stellar recommendations from both Grayson and our Máni, the local Lune has given me the green light to whip them into shape.
Losing Ingrid and Sam to the witches was enough to scare them into allowing me, an unknown, to step in and take control of the enforcers.
But when training starts next week, they might regret that eagerness.
“Did it occur to you that I enjoy my job?”
“This?” I scoff, gesturing toward the packed room where humans and shifters mingle.
It sets my teeth on edge. Back in Silent Peak, we mostly kept to ourselves.
Here, all the boundaries are blurred. I don’t trust humans.
Or strangers. I scan the crowd, cataloging potential threats—to her, to our unborn pup.
When I look back, Ingrid is glaring. Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say.
“Hope you enjoy sleeping on the floor,” she quips as she straightens and brushes past me, her hip deliberately bumping mine.
“Georgie, I’m taking off!” she shouts as she pulls off the half-apron and storms through the employees-only door behind the bar, leaving the scent of strawberries and fury in her wake.
I stalk after her, my blood running hotter with every step.
She storms halfway down the hall, but before she can reach the office, I’m on her—one arm behind her knees, the other at her back—lifting her against my chest in a single motion as my boot connects with the exit door, sending it flying open.
“Andrea!” She smacks my shoulder as laughter bubbles from her throat. “You can’t just pick me up and carry me around!”
“Watch me,” I rumble, depositing her into my truck’s passenger seat. Her protests fade to indignant puffs as I peel out of the parking lot and make the short drive back home.
We couldn’t stay at her old place—Sam and Cal had renovated it for the three of them.
But with me in the mix, and Ingrid needing more space as an omega, and since becoming pregnant, we chose a fresh start together and ended up with this small cape in a shifter neighborhood.
Rows of tidy houses, neighbors who wave from porches, kids playing in yards—it’s all so suburban, I feel like we’re living in a human town. But I’m adapting.
Especially with Ingrid at my side.
My duffel bag is forgotten in the truck as we rush inside.
Nothing’s changed since I left. My wolves are messy in that comfortable, lived-in way that makes a house feel like home.
Mail scattered on the table, shoes by the door in a chaotic pile.
And then my things. My boots, still mud-caked, where I left them.
My wrinkled nylon jacket, hanging crooked next to Cal’s leather one, a sleeve twisted inside out.
It mocks me with its domesticity, but I fucking love it—the evidence that I belong to a pack, to a family that waits for me.
We’re barely inside before she’s on me, growling and whining with need, her omega essence soothing my heart.
I swallow her moans as her legs lock behind my waist, fingers digging into my shoulders, and I walk us into her new nest. The blankets and pillows are disheveled, at least three of my worn t-shirts hidden amongst the layers.
My chest swells with pride at the sight of her nest built with pieces of me, and I inhale deeply, tasting her—remnants of us—in the air.
Heat floods my core as her strawberry scent wraps around me, sweet and sharp, spilling from her lips as she licks and bites at my neck while I lay her down on the bed.
She rolls hips and I frantically unbutton her jeans, fingers trembling with need while she paws at my shirt, rucking it up past my ribs until she captures my nipple between her fingers, squeezing with pressure that borders on pain.
When I gasp, she devours the sound with her mouth, tongue sliding against mine.
I tear off the rest of our clothes, then slide my fingers through her folds, tracing the heat deep into her core.
I pull out and circle her clit with my thumb, drawing gasps from her lips, her slick coating my hand like honey.
My beautiful omega whimpers, voice breaking as she breathes against my ear, “Andrea, god, I missed you so much.”
“I missed you too,” I mewl, pushing deeper, fingers curling to find that perfect spot inside her.
Her tits press against me, warm and heavy, and I draw one stiff nipple between my lips, savoring the taste of her strawberry skin, loving the way it pebbles against my tongue.
“Now, come for me before they catch us—”
The bedroom door creaks open, and Sam and Cal stroll in. Ingrid’s bright laughter spills into the room. I knew they were home, but was too lost in Ingrid to care. From their hungry expressions, it’s clear neither of them plans to simply watch.
My fingers slow to a torturous pace, until Ingrid’s hand claws around my wrist, nails biting into my skin. Her pupils dilate, dark with need, as I thrust deeper, feeling her clench around me.
Sam peels off his shirt, revealing golden tan skin and a strong, lean body, taut muscles rippling, broad shoulders that taper to narrow hips. His voice drops to a husky growl. “Nice of you to drop in, alpha.”
I catch Ingrid’s eye. A smile plays at the corner of her mouth as she bites her lower lip, clearly enjoying that he’s giving me shit, too.
I grit, “I told you I had a thing I had to do. And you were supposed to take care of our mate. She shouldn’t be on her feet all day—”
“I work like four-hour shifts, honey, and I like the work. Now shut up and make me come.”
Cal’s laugh draws my attention over as he strips down, efficient yet unhurried.
He’s even leaner than Sam, with wiry strength coiled beneath fair skin.
Dark features, with a strong jaw always slightly shadowed no matter how recently he’s shaved, a striking contrast against his pale complexion.
There’s something in the way he holds himself, a quiet confidence that doesn’t need to announce itself, and it only enhances his masculinity.
When his shirt drops to the floor, revealing the defined ridges of his abdomen, my mouth waters.
Cal climbs onto the bed, pressing his body flush against my back, the heat of him making goosebumps break out across my skin.
His arms slide around me, muscles tensing, forearms dusted with dark hair that tickles my wrists as his fingers find mine between Ingrid’s thighs.
The gentle brush of his callused fingertips against my knuckles sends electricity racing up my spine, need pulsing in my clit.
I arch involuntarily, my ass grinding against his hardening length.
Ingrid’s slick coats both our hands as we work her together, Cal thumbing her swollen clit in tight circles and my fingers plunging deeper into her pussy, curling to hit that spot that makes her eyes roll, head thrown back, a primal moan tearing from her throat as she comes undone.
She's still shaking when Cal’s hands slide down my waist, fingers leaving trails of heat in their wake.
I pull back from Ingrid reluctantly, crawling down her body inch by inch, pausing to taste her—licking at her collarbone, sucking on her nipples, nipping at the curve of her ribs, kissing her belly.
When I reach the edge of the bed, I grip the backs of her knees and pull her to the edge.
Sam’s eyes darken watching us, his fingers working deliberately at his belt buckle, tendons on his forearms flexing with excitement. The metal clinks, and he drops his pants, freeing himself, thick and ready.
He and I are like this together, circling each other like wolves, never touching, the energy crackling between us with competitive heat.
He takes his position at the edge of the bed, powerful thighs spread wide.
When he pats his knee once—a sharp, commanding gesture—Ingrid’s pupils dilate with such naked hunger that I can smell the sweet spike in her scent.
“Thought you’d sneak in here and fuck our mate without us?” He raises an eyebrow.
I offer a feral grin. "Didn’t think you could keep up.”
He laughs as I lift Ingrid by the hips and settle her onto Sam’s lap, so they’re both facing me.
My fingers trace the curve of her thighs as I guide her knees apart.
The sight of her—them—steals my breath. Something I never planned for, never thought possible for someone like me.
But she’s become everything to me. Her dark umber skin glows, a rosy flush spreading across her chest. Four months pregnant, and she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
When she smiles, giving me those deep dimples, my heart doesn’t melt—it bursts, sending shrapnel of raw vulnerability through every chamber of my heart, until I can barely breathe, barely think, barely remember who I was before this moment.
She is the mate I’ve always needed. Wanted. She is perfect.
I try to school my expression against the vulnerability, but she catches it anyway, feeling it pulse through our bond. Her eyes soften, seeing straight through my carefully constructed walls. “Come here, love,” she whispers, crooking her finger with that gentle omega warmth.
I lower to my knees, palms on her thighs.
Sam situates himself beneath her, lifting her hips enough to push inside.
This close, I watch the slow push of his cock as he fills her—the glistening wetness, the way she stretches around him, her body accepting him completely while her eyes remain locked on me.
Leaning forward, I spread her lower lips, exposing her clit and that first taste of her on my tongue—it’s like home. Finding shelter in a storm. The heady mix of her omega essence and Sam’s alpha musk together floods my senses, until I’m drowning in it, enough to break me.