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His… dominance doesn’t affect me so badly any more because our souls are joined as one. My body isn’t scared, my brain doesn’t need to try and protect me. Christopher is mine. My eyes rake over each of the brothers, and a slow smile appears on my face.
They’re mine.
There’s so much to handle, so much going on… but they’re still here, trying, protecting... loving. I’m so lucky that fate found me worthy enough to be theirs.
The four of them are dashing in the shirts and fitted trousers, and if it weren’t for the slight difference in colours and the feelings of our bonds, they’re so identical right now, I’d struggle to tell them apart. They look so powerful, so sexy.
Their shirts are tight across their upper arms, the sleeves all rolled up to their elbows, showing off their tanned forearms. It makes them seem that much more confident, much more formidable.
And the only thing sexier than their forearms is their asses when they turn around. I can’t decide whether I prefer them in tracksuit pants or suit pants…
“We made the decision that it was time for my brothers and I to take over leadership of the pack,” Topher says, and there’s a bunch of cheers and hollers. I flinch at the noise, and Phoebe’s eyes fly open.
She’s unsure, but I can see her grey eyes scrunch up just before she lets out a small wailing sound. Seb’s by my side in an instant, and Topher regains control of the crowd. I’m not sure if it’s because he wants to help Phoebe settle or just because he doesn’t want them to be so rowdy, but I appreciate it nonetheless.
“It’s been a long time coming,” I hear Topher say, but his words fade out as Phoebe cries again.
I can feel eyes on us, both from our table and from the wider pack, and I’m terrified she’s going to shift into her wolf. Sure, everyone can scent the wolf within her, and we’ve not denied that she’s wolf-born, but that doesn’t change the weird way that people react around her.
And that’s just been family.
I don’t want her shifting in a space like this and having her be on display when I don’t know how the response will be. I feel uncomfortable with the idea of it.
“Take her out of the carrier,” Seb murmurs, and I nod slowly. My hands are shaking, and even when he gently places his hand on my lower back, it doesn’t stop the nerves. I’m struggling with the weight of my anxiety, and I can’t get her out properly.
He leans in and kisses my temple before undoing the straps himself. He lifts the crying little girl out of the carrier, and she settles as soon as she’s in his arms. Just like me—she’s got a weakness for these men, and she smiles at him when he kisses her forehead.
Her tears stop, and she watches in fascination as Seb changes his eye colour back and forth for her. It’s one of her favourite things to watch, and I think I’ll cry the day she’s no longer interested in it.
Seb crouches back down, keeping a tight hold on my infant, and leans in close.
“Breathe, little mama,” he murmurs, his breath and beard tickling my ear. “Can I?”
He gestures back towards the front, and I nod. He wastes no time in cuddling Phoebe in, and heading back to the front. Ben pouts, giving me a betrayed look, and I grin half-heartedly. I undo the rest of the baby carrier and gently place it on the table in front of me, ignoring the way both Iris and Julie follow Seb with their eyes.
I know they’re not focused on him, and it turns my stomach.
I feel bare now—exposed. I’ve got nothing to hide behind, nothing to hold onto, when around all these new people. I feel empty without her.
“We’re a community,” Topher says, and there’s some more cheers. Phoebe doesn’t seem bothered this time, but I am.
They might be a community, but outside of my men, I have no part in it. I’m human in a room full of werewolves. Werewolves with terrifying ideologies, and I’m worried about how many people here have clean hands.
I bite my tongue to cut off the tears that were starting to form. This is not the time to lose it.
It’s just frustrating that it’s never time to lose it.
Topher’s words fade into the background, even as Alex and Ben join in. Seb nods, but he never says anything, instead, focusing all of his attention on Phoebe. I don’t look at the crowd, not wanting to know how many people are also focused on Phoebe.
Today has been long, and the anxiety as I left the house hasn’t gone away. It’s only gotten worse the more revelations that have been shared throughout the day.
First with Ryan, then with the boys’ family as a whole… and then with my mum sitting next to Morgan at the twin’s wedding. They’re a lot younger than they are now in the photos, and based on the date on the back, they’d either be nineteen or twenty.
Clearly, this was shortly before Morgan died.
Or at least, that’s what the werewolf world thinks.
I didn’t see my dad in that photo, but the fact that my mum is smiling her real smile towards Morgan shows they knew each other. That my mum cared for Morgan.
