We move as a unit now. A machine of flesh and need. Knox pumping into her, Fallon eating her and marking her thighs with bruises, fucking her with his mouth, and her taking me deep into her throat.
It’s filthy. It’s debauched. And it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
Knox roars, his knot swelling. “I’m coming!Zut!”
He slams into her one last time, locking himself inside.
The visual of him filling her, combined with Fallon sucking on her clit and the feeling of her mouth on me, is too much.
I pull out just in time, spilling myself over her chest and stomach. It coats her skin, white and hot.
A second later, Fallon groans against her leg, his own release pulsing against the sheets.
We collapse together, a heap of tangled limbs and sweat and fluids. We’re panting, the air smelling of come and slick and us.
Amber is shaking uncontrollably, her skin flushed a dark pink, covered in us.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper, pulling a blanket up to cover her. “You did so good.”
Knox stays tied to her, his face buried in her neck. He’s purring, a low rumble that vibrates through her bones.
We care for her in the intervals.
We wash her with warm cloths, gently wiping the come and sweat from her skin so she doesn’t get a chill.
We feed her pieces of fruit and granola bars when she’s too shaky to hold a fork. We make her drink electrolytes until she feels like she’s drowning in it.
She’ll be okay.
On the second day, the fever spikes so high she begins to hallucinate.
“I don’t want to go back,” she cries, clinging to me, her tears soaking my chest. “Please don’t make me go back to the dark.”
“You’re not going back,” I tell her, my voice breaking. “You’re here. You’re home with us.”
“Luke is there,” she whimpers, her eyes squeezed shut. “He’s waiting in the van.”
“He can’t touch you,” Knox says, his voice lethal. He stands by the window, naked and terrifying, watching the snow fall like a hawk. “He will never touch you again. I swear it,chérie.”
Fallon lies down in front of her, wrapping his arms around her waist, sandwiching her between us. “We’re your wall, Sunshine. Nothing gets through us.”
She cries herself to sleep, exhausted by the fever and the memories it drags up. We don’t sleep. We doze in shifts, always keeping a hand on her, always keeping a watch on the doors.
My phone buzzes constantly. Updates from Dorian. All clear. Updates from Jude. Maisie asked for her mom. I text back simple reassurances, my thumb shaking.
By the third day, the urgency in her scent begins to change. It softens. The copper tang fades, replaced by a sweeter, deeper musk. It smells like home.
She’s exhausted, lying limp in the center of the bed, her skin glowing with a healthy sheen rather than a feverish flush.
“How are you feeling?” I ask, brushing her hair back from her face.
She looks at me, her eyes finally clear. The amber flecks in her irises are visible again. She’s really here.
“Tired,” she whispers. Her voice is hoarse from screaming. “But... the fire is gone. I think... I think it’s breaking.”
Knox comes in from the living room, carrying a tray with toast and eggs. He sets it down on the nightstand and crawls onto the bed. He presses his forehead against hers, breathing her in deeply.
“You smell like us,” Knox rumbles, satisfaction rolling off him in waves. “You smell like pack.”
