Page 375 of Immune

“Still mine?” she asks softly.

I understand what she means the moment she says it. After the bonds, after the heat, after all of us, she’s gently asking if she still belongs to herself.

“Yes,” I tell her. “Still yours.”

Her eyes flutter closed then and the pack bond settles around us. Not over her, but around her. Holding without trapping. Keeping the world out without trapping her behind walls. It’s a place for her to finally rest. A place to belong. And a place that still lets her breathe.

And at the center of it all is Dakota O’Reilly.

Alive, unowned, and happily belonging, all because she chose to.

FIFTY-ONE

DAKOTA

I wake up because someone is touching my wrist.

Not grabbing or restraining, just touching. Two fingers pressed to my pulse, light enough that I can pretend I’m not instantly awake with murder fresh on my mind.

My eyes crack open and murder disappears so fast I feel dizzy with it when I see Xeon lying beside me, quiet and still, fingers resting against my wrist as he sleeps. It almost looks like he’s checking my pulse like Ellis would, but I know that’s not what this is. He’s simply touching me like he needs proof that I’m still here, even in his sleep.

The room is dim when my eyes check every corner and door and window quickly, noting the exits and mapping out an escape route before my brain is even fully awake yet. Six years of survival will do that to a person.

Looking around, I find everything warm. Messy in a way a room gets after too many bodies, too much heat, and not enough clothing. Blankets are tangled around my legs and someone’s shirt is lying on the floor. Ewan’s cracked headphones are still sitting on the table next to an empty water glass. Maine’s hat somehow survived last night’s festivities, still resting on the pillow close to my head.

My whole body aches fiercely, but not in a bad way. Not in a dying way, which is always nice.

It’s more like a survived and overdid it, made several incredibly bold and fun choices, and will absolutely be hearing about it from Ellis later kind of way.

The reminder of my choices makes my lips twitch just as four bite marks throb under my skin.

Ewan.

Kaito.

Fletcher.

Xeon.

Four bonds that simmer quietly inside me, all alive and fresh and new. They’re not pulling or shouting, they’re just there. Mine because I chose them. That thought should terrify me, and maybe it still does a little. But it also makes my chest feel full to bursting, which is honestly kind of inconvenient because I’m already a host to bruises, stitches, heat exhaustion, emotional damage, and whatever crime my left knee is currently committing.

I feel the moment Xeon wakes, his hand tensing around my wrist and his fingers pressing into my pulse ever so slightly before he immediately eases the pressure. A second later, his eyes open, dark and clear and filled with emotion I can now feel thrumming through our bond.

“You’re awake,” he says softly, rubbing his thumb over my splotchy-colored skin.

“Mm,” I grumble, the side of my face buried in a pillow that holds all of our scents together. “Define awake. Because it feels pretty debatable. What even is awake?”

Across the mattress, Ewan makes a rough, sleepy sound that wakes certain parts of my body up that I ignore before they become a problem. I love being a problem, but my body needs a minute to recover before it starts throwing suggestive punches.

“If she’s already threatening reality, she’s awake,” the sleepy Welshman rasps.

“Betrayal first thing in the morning. Wow. Diabolical,” I mumble.

“Simple observation, love,” the bastard groans, shoving his own face into a pillow and sighing deeply.

I consider arguing for all of five seconds before I realize that will cost more energy than I have this morning. I apparently spent all of mine bonding with an entire pack and making choices that are going to make walking a hazard for at least a day.

So I do the only sensible thing I can manage.