Page 94 of Into the Fire: Before

“—bottle this perfume and sell for a pretty—”

“Keep coming, baby. Don’t stop, ride it—”

Like I even could.

A sob that wasn’t mine sounded before me. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Caine.

“Need to knot, need to—holyshit.”

Something slid out, though I was far from empty. One hard buck. Two. Then the beautiful burn of a knot sliding home.

The stars danced again. Deep black space pulled me into its vacuum. Stole my air. Gifted its power and immensity.

My hands reached blindly. Searching for bodies. Hands covered me in turn. Stroking, caressing. My omega inhaled, searching.

All here. All good.

Realityseepedinforminutes at a time. Sometimes when I woke, surrounded by my packmates. Sometimes as my latest orgasm waned. Every time, my men and Brea encouraged and comforted me. They held me, fed me, praised me.

Nothing had ever been so perfect as this.

One

Brea

Forthefourdaysof Taryn’s heat, we did our best to forget about the threat beyond these walls. Clear heads weren’t generally known for prevailing through heats and ruts, but Brooks made sure to stay alert when the rest of us sank below the tide. Kept the phone charged, scanned the feeds, checked the alerts. Ensured a steady supply of food and water no more than arm’s reach away. All while still managing to spend plenty of his own quality time with our heat-addled omega. And to send every one of us into a giggle fit when he described one particularly daring group setup asthe sexiest game of extreme Twister known to man.

I kind of loved that beta.

A storm had moved in earlier in the afternoon, the sound of the rain growing from a handful of staccato raps on the roof to a constant deluge by nightfall. By midnight, the unending rain was like white noise in the background as everyone caught a few minutes of stolen sleep. The occasional long rumble of thunderbroke up the monotony, but most of the time we were too far out of it to care.

Her heat would be over soon. One, maybe two more good knots and orgasms, and the fever should clear. Her scent was her tell. It always was sweetest at the end of her heat. After the last one, when I told her so, she’d theorized it was the hormones making one last, mighty push to intoxicate the alpha, ensure a pregnancy.

In my mind, it was simpler. Or, well, more complicated, depending on your mindset. Maybe it wasn’t her smell that was sweeter. Could just be that after so many frenzied days, as my own mind started to clear from the haze as well as hers, that I was so high on her beauty, her nearness, her bond, her love that it manifested in the heightened aroma she put off. Hot, sticky toffee with rich cream, sweet and full and home.

The rest were asleep now, all of us twined together on the too-small-for-us-all bed. Me, the pack we’d both come to love, and Taryn, right in the center.

Center of the nest. Center of my world.

It was a wonder I didn’t slumber away with them. Taryn’s heat was longer than normal, more than four full days with hardly any breaks in between. Alphas in a rut were known for endurance, yeah, but even with three of us and a beta to boot, we were all exhausted. The men had lost count of how many times they knotted her. I’d lost count of how many times she came around my fist or all over my face, the last time barely an hour ago.

Fire flashed through my belly at the memory of how she’d felt, and smelled, and sounded.

Taryn hummed quietly, hand reaching toward me without opening her eyes. I almost chuckled—I woke up my mate via psychic horniness. How many could claim that?

Her hand grazed my stomach, trailing up until she cupped my breast. Only then did her eyes finally flutter open. A whine built in her throat as she shifted closer, nails scraping my skin. “Alpha…”

The heat may’ve been winding down, but it sure as hell wasn’t over yet.

“Shhh, baby,” I whispered. “I’m here, love.”

“Need you…”

“I’m here, baby, I’ve got you.”

I kissed her then, my hand raising to tangle in her chocolate brown hair, our bodies pressed flush against each other. Taryn gasped as I dragged my nails down the length of her spine. It was enough to rouse Brooks at the end of the bed, who turned over and gave us both a sleepy grin. His hand started a slow glide up her calf as he rose to his knees.

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