His hand slides from my hip to the back of my neck, avoiding the wound, bracing himself. “Elowen,” he murmurs, voice low and rough. The sound vibrates straight through me.
Behind my reflection, Tyler stills. Julian goes quiet.
The air changes.
The scents shift too: cedar deepening, warmth brightening, something sharp and clean threading through it like struck flint. Their combined presence presses closer without any of them moving.
I tilt my head slightly. An invitation.
Calder’s breath stutters. For half a heartbeat, his teeth graze the edge of his own mark again.
A warning hum builds in his chest, and the bond flares hot in answer.
My fingers curl against the counter. “Calder,” I whisper.
He exhales hard through his nose and pulls back, just enough.
Tyler steps closer on my right, brushing his thumb lightly beneath his own mark as if calming the heat there. His expression is hungry and awed at once.
Julian’s hand rests at the base of my spine, steady and anchoring, but his pale blue eyes have darkened. “You’re reacting strongly.”
Every shift in their breathing sends small tremors beneath my skin. Every subtle change in scent heightens the ache low in my stomach. “I feel it…” I feel them. My alphas.
Calder’s hand slides to my jaw, thumb brushing my cheek. “If we stand here much longer, I may not remain this disciplined.”
The honesty in it makes my pulse jump.
Tyler huffs a soft laugh that isn’t really laughter. “You’re not the only one.”
Julian swallows once. “The physiological feedback loop is… intense.”
That almost makes me smile.
Almost.
But the tensionis too thick.
I turn in Calder’s arms then so I’m facing them, all three. The marks throb as my skin stretches, and the bond flashes bright again at the movement.
They all step closer at once.
Instinct.
And when we step back from the mirror at last, the heat under my skin still lingers, alive, permanent, sealed, but the room feels balanced again.
Pack.
Breakfast is simple, eggs and toast made together in Calder's small kitchen. We move around each other with the easy coordination that's always been there, now amplified beyond recognition. I know Tyler needs the butter before he asks. Julian hands me chamomile tea with honey. Calder steadies me when I sway slightly, feeling my balance shift before my body does.
"This is going to take some getting used to," I observe.
"It'll settle," Julian assures me. "Right now it's new, overwhelming. Give it a few days."
"I like it," Tyler says. "Instinctively knowing how you feel."
"Even when she's annoyed with us?" Calder asks dryly.
"Especially then," Tyler grins.
