“But,” she continued, turning to him fully, “you also let your pride and isolation prevent you from even considering that Kenai and Taimyr might be trustworthy allies.”
“And you two.” Her gaze swung to us, and I found myself wanting to hide behind Kenai like a calf. “You got so focused on what was achievable that you forgot to listen to why Aleksi couldn’t accept it. You let your privilege blind you.”
The silence that followed was thick. She was right, of course. Our omega usually was.
Kenai let out a long sigh, flopping back onto the cushions. “Is it hard, being right all the time?” He grinned at Sylvie.
She snorted. “It’s my burden to bear.”
We all looked at Aleksi, who was obviously ready to bolt. His chest was heaving, and I recognized the signs of an alpha warring with emotion against instinct. Sylvie opened her mouth to speak, but Kenai got their first.
“Hey,” Kenai said gently, his hand moving to the bigger alpha’s shoulder. “First time with other alphas is overwhelming for everyone.”
Aleksi blinked but didn’t respond.
“Even Taimyr forgot how to speak for an hour,” Kenai continued, clearly defusing the tension. “Though I might just bethatgood.”
“Lies and slander,” I countered, playing along. “It was at least two hours. And Kenai cried.”
“I did not?—”
“You absolutely did. Beautiful tears. Very alpha.”
The absurdity of it—three rival alphas making jokes about our first time while our omega watched with fond exasperation—broke something loose in the room. Aleksi let out a laugh that sounded like he hadn’t used it in ages.
“You cried?” he asked Kenai, only half-mocking.
Kenai’s pale skin flushed beautifully. “I may have been…emotionally overwhelmed.”
“He sobbed,” I clarified helpfully.
“You’d just knotted me for the first time!” Kenai protested, then his gaze softened, vulnerability flickering through. “I was afraid I wouldn’t be enough for you.”
I reached out and pulled him into my arms. “You told me you were afraid that once the rut wore off, I’d realize you were too reckless, too?—”
“Weak,” Kenai finished quietly.
Aleksi made a low sound of recognition. “You thought you weren’t alpha enough.”
“The smallest, covered in scars from lost fights, better with words than antlers?” Kenai laughed bitterly. “Not exactly the traditional alpha model.”
“And yet Taimyr chose you,” Aleksi said slowly, as if working through a complex equation.
“Because he’s brilliant,” I replied simply. “And kind. And sees ten moves ahead while I’m still charging at the current problem. He makes me better.”
“Sap,” Kenai muttered, but his hand found mine.
Aleksi stared at our interlaced fingers with something like wonder. “I was taught needing others was a weakness.”
“You were taught wrong,” Sylvie said gently, her fingers tracing along his chest. “The strongest thing any of us can do is admit we need each other.”
“Is that what this is?” Aleksi asked, gesturing vaguely at all of us.
“Among other things,” Kenai answered with a wink. “But yes. I need Taimyr’s passion and level-headedness. He needs me to push him past his comfort zone. We both need Sylvie’s brilliant mind and fierce heart. And…”
“And?” Aleksi prompted.
“And maybe we need your unwavering protection of those who can’t protect themselves,” Kenai admitted. “Your refusal to accept anything less than true justice. For someone to anchor us against the coming storm.”
