I smiled into Duchess's fur, still not quite used to how easily those possessives came now.
The bedroom was different than it had been three months ago. We'd redecorated together, all five of us, turning the space into something that belonged to everyone. The walls were painted a soft sage green that Levi had picked out, claiming itwas "calming but not boring." Heavy curtains in deep burgundy framed the windows, Garrett's contribution, practical and warm. Oliver had insisted on quality bedding, sheets with a thread count I hadn't even known existed, and a duvet so soft it felt like sleeping in a cloud.
Micah had installed a small bookshelf beside the bed, stocked with my favorite novels and a reading lamp that adjusted to the perfect brightness with the touch of a button. He'd noticed that I liked to read before falling asleep, had cataloged the habit without me ever mentioning it, and had solved a problem I hadn't even known I had.
Duchess had claimed the top shelf of that bookcase as her personal perch, much to Micah's resigned acceptance. He'd added a small cushion for her after the third time she'd knocked books onto the floor.That was Micah. That was all of them, really—paying attention, noticing, caring in ways both large and small.
I finally forced myself out of bed, dislodging Duchess with an apologetic scratch. She meowed her displeasure but didn't follow, she rarely left the house, preferring to reign over her indoor kingdom from various sunny spots and elevated perches. The pack house had become her castle, and she ruled it with an iron paw. The bathroom tiles were heated, another Micah addition, and I sighed happily as warmth seeped into my feet. The bathroom was bigger than my entire cabin had been, all marble and glass and soft lighting, with a shower large enough for multiple people and a tub that could comfortably fit three.
We'd tested both. Extensively.
I caught sight of myself in the mirror and paused, studying my reflection with something like wonder. I looked different than I had three months ago. Healthier. Happier. The dark circles that had been permanent fixtures under my eyes had faded, replaced by a glow that came from good sleep and betternutrition and the bone-deep satisfaction of being thoroughly, consistently loved.
And the marks.
I tilted my head, exposing my neck to the morning light. Four bite scars decorated my skin—two on each side, slightly overlapping, healed now to silvery-pink crescents that would never fully fade. Oliver's was at the junction of my neck and shoulder, the first claim. Garrett's was opposite, a mirror image. Levi's sat just below Oliver's, and Micah's completed the set below Garrett's.
I traced them with my fingertips, feeling the bonds pulse in response. Four threads of gold connecting me to the men I loved. Four pieces of my heart walking around outside my body.
Permanent. Unbreakable. Forever.
After a quick shower, I dressed in comfortable clothes and made my way downstairs. The pack house had become familiar over the past three months, its layout and quirks as known to me as my own hands. The creaky third step on the main staircase. The way the morning light hit the living room windows at just the right angle to make everything glow. The particular scent of the place—cedar and woodsmoke and honey and rain, all woven together into something that smelled like belonging.
Duchess was already resettled on the back of the living room couch, watching birds through the window with predatory interest. She spared me a glance as I passed, then returned to her surveillance.
The kitchen was warm and busy when I arrived. Garrett stood at the stove, his broad back to me, flipping pancakes with the practiced ease of someone who'd been cooking his whole life. He was shirtless, wearing only a pair of low-slung pajama pants, and I took a moment to appreciate the view—the muscles of his shoulders shifting as he moved, the scars crisscrossing hisskin like a roadmap of a life well-lived, the trail of dark hair disappearing into his waistband.
Levi was perched on the counter beside him, completely in the way and utterly unrepentant about it. He was wearing one of my oversized sweaters—stolen from my dresser, no doubt—and his golden hair was a disaster, sticking up in every direction. He was talking animatedly about something, gesturing with his coffee mug in a way that sloshed liquid dangerously close to the rim, and Garrett was listening with the patient half-smile he reserved specifically for Levi's rambling"—and I'm just saying, if we put a rope swing over the swimming hole, it would be amazing. We could have pack cookouts and invite people and it would be like, a whole thing?—"
"You'd break your neck," Garrett rumbled, not looking up from his pancakes.
"I would not. I'm very coordinated." Levi shot back, huff in his voice.
"You tripped over your own feet yesterday. Twice." Garrett muttered.
"That's different. That was inside. Outside coordination is a completely separate skill set." I laughed at Levi’s response, announcing my presence, and both of them turned. Levi's face lit up like sunrise, and Garrett's expression softened into something warm and private.
"There she is." Levi slid off the counter and bounded toward me, pulling me into a hug that lifted me off my feet. He smelled like coffee and laundry detergent and that indefinable sunshine scent that was purely him. "Good morning, gorgeous. Sleep okay?"
"I always sleep okay," I said against his chest. "Hard not to when I'm surrounded by four personal space heaters."
"We do run hot." He set me down and pressed a kiss to my forehead, right between my eyebrows. "Coffee's ready. Garrett made pancakes. The ones with the blueberries you like."
"Because someone—" Garrett's voice was pointed, "—ate all the chocolate chips."
"They were calling to me," Levi said, completely unrepentant. "I have no self-control. It's a known issue." I accepted a mug of coffee from Garrett, fixed exactly how I liked it, cream and two sugars—and leaned against the counter, watching my alphas move around the kitchen. This was my favorite part of the day, I'd discovered. These quiet morning moments, before the world intruded, when it was just us and pancakes and gentle bickering.
Oliver appeared a few minutes later, drawn by the smell of food and fresh coffee. He was dressed for work already—button-down shirt rolled up to his elbows, slacks pressed, silver-threaded hair combed neatly—but he paused to kiss me properly before heading for the coffee pot.
"Good morning," he murmured against my lips. "You looked so peaceful, I didn't want to wake you."
"Duchess woke me," I admitted. "She sat on my chest and stared at me until I opened my eyes."
"She does that." He smiled, the corners of his blue eyes crinkling. "I think it's her way of asserting dominance."
"She's a cat. Everything is about asserting dominance." He laughed softly, eyes soft.
The conversation flowed easily as we ate—pancakes with blueberries, because Garrett had remembered they were my favorite, and fresh-squeezed orange juice that Levi had apparently gotten up early to make.
