Page 253 of Unmarked

Chapter Fifty-Two

Rhea

Ilift my chin. Bare my throat.

Which is kind of a big deal, considering two weeks ago I couldn’t even look at an alpha without wanting to pepper spray them.

Lucian’s fingers brush the side of my neck, lingering like he’s checking my pulse. My entire body stills, and not in a peaceful, serene way - more like a full-system lockdown because what is happening.

The moonlight holds its breath, and so do I.

Lucian moves impossibly closer; each step deliberate and intense, like a slow-moving avalanche in a button-down. His hands find the hem of the shirt I’m wearing - his shirt, of course - and lifts it, inch by slow, emotionally devastating inch.

And yes, I do flinch when it clears my chest, because, oh look, I'm naked now. In front of four men. All of whom have literally ruined me in different positions this week.

I swallow hard. They don’t blink.

Ash is the first to growl, a deep rumble that vibrates my spleen. He yanks his own shirt off like it insulted him and stomps toward me like he’s trying to win a custody battle over my body.

He kisses me, hard, and I melt against him.

It’s ridiculous: I’m half-formed dough in his hands.

Then Theo moves in on my other side. Sweet, thoughtful Theo, peeling off his t-shirt like he’s worried it might wrinkle. He tilts my chin with the gentleness of a man who’s read a lot of love poems and probably recited one aloud in the mirror. Then he kisses me, too - and it’s soft, then hot, then suddenly my knees don’t work. Again.

My brain istryingto compute the emotional whiplash of being loved this thoroughly, but it’s currently buffering.

Kai laughs behind me - of course he does.

“Greedy little thing,” he croons, stripping off his hoodie and pants like we’re late for something. His bare chest presses to my back, and his hands - those large, rough hands - slide up to cup my breasts like he’s sculpting them himself.

"You’re already dripping for us, Bambi," he murmurs against the shell of my ear, kissing just below it. "And we haven't even started yet."

My whimper is embarrassing. I am a puddle of hormones and questionable decisions and absolutely no regrets.

Ash bites down on my jaw like he’s stamping a claim. Theo is already kissing down my throat like he wants to live there. Kai’s hands are still doing unspeakably excellent things to my body.

And Lucian?

Lucian hasn’t moved.

He’s still fully clothed. Still watching. Like a lion letting the cubs eat first.

But when he undoes the buttons of his shirt with the kind of surgical precision that shouldnotbe this hot, I swear the temperature of the room spikes five degrees.

One button.

Then another.

And another.

Each one an act of violence against my willpower.

He lets the shirt fall open, andwow, okay, he is built like a statue designed specifically to ruin lives.

He cups my jaw, tilts my face up, and says, “Mine.”

Then he kisses me, and I don’t even pretend to be cool about it.

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