“And put you back together,” I finish, leaning in to press a slow kiss to her mouth, “exactly how we want you.”
She melts into me with a soft sound, all warmth and surrender and trust.
And I swear to God, I’ve never seen anything more devastatingly beautiful.
21
HANNAH
My body feels as though I’ve decided to run a triathlon after spending three years on a couch eating bonbons.
Everything aches. Muscles I forgot existed are staging a full protest. Even my hair hurts, which shouldn’t be anatomically possible. But it’s the best kind of ache. I grin like an idiot every time I move and remember exactly how I earned these particular sore muscles.
Three days since my heat broke, and I’m still buzzing. My body still hums at a frequency only dogs and extremely satisfied Omegas can hear.
It’s more than just the mind-blowing sex, though holy hell, that was extraordinary. It’s the marking bites. Three of them now, one from each of my Alphas, strategically placed on my body like the world’s sexiest hickeys.
The marks connect me to them like invisible threads running between us. I sense them even when they’re not in the room, their presence always humming at the edge of my awareness.
It’s weird. It’s invasive. It’s absolutely incredible.
The snow finally stopped overnight, and actual sunlight is pouring through the windows this morning as if the universe is personally apologizing for the weather. The sky is that impossible blue that challenges you to write poetry, or at least Instagram the hell out of it.
I’m in the backyard wearing Kane’s jacket, which is oversized on me, with my jeans and sweater, hauling a bucket of food to the reindeer pen.
They spot me immediately and stampede toward the fence.
“All right, all right, don’t trample each other,” I call out, opening the gate and slipping inside. “There’s plenty for everyone, you greedy bastards.”
I dump handfuls of grain into the trough, and they descend on it like locusts. Except Corn Dog, who’s ignoring the food completely and following me around like a lovesick puppy.
“You know the food is over there, right?” I tell him, scratching behind his ears. “With all your friends? Remember food? The thing you literally break into the house for?”
He bumps his nose against my hand insistently.
I’ve noticed lately that the second I step outside, Corn Dog abandons whatever trouble he’s creating and runs straight to me. The other reindeer are friendly enough, but Corn Dog has completely imprinted on me as though I’m his mother or his Omega or his personal food dispenser.
“You’re seriously high-maintenance,” I inform him, pulling out the bag of fancy moss that the guys special-order. “You know that? Like, next-level needy. We should get you a therapist.”
He makes this little huffing sound that I swear is indignant. I hold out a handful of moss, and he takes it hungrily from my palm, chewing while maintaining intense eye contact.
“So listen, I have a proposition for you,” I say conversationally, like I’m not talking to a reindeer. “The tree lighting ceremony is in two days, and I have this idea that couldeither be brilliant or get us both banned from public events forever.”
Corn Dog keeps chewing, watching me.
“I need you to be on your absolute best behavior. No eating decorations. No headbutting people. No breaking into buildings or blocking doorways or any of your usual nonsense.” I scratch under his chin. “Think you can handle being a professional for one evening?”
He leans into my touch, and I’m choosing to interpret that as agreement.
“Good. Because if you pull this off, I’ll make sure you get moss every single day for a month. The expensive kind. Maybe I’ll even let you sleep in the house again.”
“You’re negotiating with livestock now?” a deep male voice asks.
I spin around to find Kane leaning against the doorframe of the house, arms crossed, looking unfairly attractive in jeans and a thermal Henley that shows off every muscle.
His hair is combed off his face, and there’s a smile playing at his lips, which I adore.
“He’s family,” I correct, giving Corn Dog one more scratch. “And clearly the best listener in this entire household.”
