She could already imagine it—how the furs would feel against herbare skin. Their warmth would surround her, consume her in ways she’d been thinking about more and more lately.
Her pulse quickened. She swallowed, the thrum of tension between them humming beneath her skin. When she looked at them—at the steadiness in Kaelen’s gaze, the stillness in Alarik’s frame—there was no pressure. No demand.
Just hope.
She slowly straightened. Her voice was barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to wait anymore.”
Alarik reached for her, his fingers brushing her jaw, tilting her chin up. “Say it again.”
She met both their eyes—and let the truth fall freely from her lips.
“I want to be yours. Not someday. Tonight.”
Kaelen’s golden eyes darkened, something raw flickering across his expression. He didn’t hesitate—didn’t even let her draw another breath before he cupped her face and kissed her. His mouth pressing to hers with slow, deliberate reverence, as if memorizing the taste of her words, sealing them between them like a vow.
By the time he pulled away, her pulse was a wild drumbeat against his fingertips. He exhaled against her lips.
“Tonight,” he murmured, “we will show you what it means to be ours.”
Her skin flushed, heat curling low in her belly. She held on to their wrists and swallowed, gathering her nerve.
“How will we proceed?” Her cheeks burned, but she held their gazes. “Since it’s my first time, you wouldn’t both . . .” She faltered, the unspoken words thick in the charged air between them.
Kaelen’s mouth curved slightly, but beneath the teasing edge, she saw restraint, reverence, the way he tempered the instinct that must be roaring beneath his skin.
“No,” he murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Not tonight.” His voice dipped lower, rough with meaning, but the anticipation in it made her belly clench. “For that, we’ll wait for your Heat—make sure you’re ready.”
Then Alarik spoke, his voice even, but she heard the gravity in it. “Who do you want to be your first, Reiya?”
She looked between them—Kaelen, golden-eyed and smouldering with restraint. Alarik, dark and steady, a grounding force in the fire between them. Her fingers curled into theirs. They were leaving this decision in her hands, a silent reassurance that her desires mattered just as much as theirs.
“How can I choose?” she whispered. “You’re both my Alphas—both of you complete me. Does it matter who takes me first?”
The words settled deep, solidifying what she had known all along—this was never about choosing between them, because she never could.
Silence stretched, thick and charged.
Then, Alarik turned to Kaelen. “You should be the one.” His voice was cautiously steady, matter-of-fact. “You’re the crown prince. By bloodline alone, it falls to you to claim her first.”
Kaelen’s fingers tensed slightly around hers, his golden gaze darkening. “That’s precisely why I shouldn’t—because I’m the crown prince.”
Alarik frowned. “Why?”
Kaelen exhaled. “Because the court will expect her first child to be mine. When her Heat comes and her body is ready to conceive, I’d gladly claim that place.” His voice softened as his gaze flickered between her and Alarik.
Reiya’s breath caught, and suddenly, she understood.
Kaelen would always come first in the eyes of the court and kingdom. His name would be the one etched into the histories, the father of the heir apparent, and one day, the Sunborn king who’d stand at her side. She would be his queen in the eyes of the world. That was inevitable.
But Alarik . . .
Alarik, who was born first but never crowned. Who stood in every shadow Kaelen cast. Who bore duty like armour but was never given the legacy to match.
Kaelen wouldn’t let this be another thing his brother was asked to surrender.
And neither would she.
She looked at Alarik, her hand reaching out for his, her decision settling like stone.
