Page 142 of Pack Frenzy
I can feel the moment Cassian lets go, his cock pulsing inside her, his knot starting to swell. The sensation sends Jess over theedge again, her body convulsing between us, her scream muffled by Eli’s cock in her mouth.
I’m right behind them, my orgasm crashing through me like a fucking freight train, my vision whiting out as I fill her, claiming her, making her ours.
Then I bite down on her throat, Cassian doing the same to the back of her neck as our knots swell inside her.
Eli throws his head back, his hands gripping Jess’s hair as he comes undone. “Jess!”
The room is filled with the sound of our ragged breaths, the scent of sex and sweat, and Jess’s heat.
Our knots lock us inside her, and she feels fucking amazing. Eli drops to the floor, gasping for breath.
She murmurs something, then her eyelids flutter.
I grit my teeth, trying to be still so we don’t wake her.
“Fucking hell.” Cassian shakes his head. “That was a hell of a round one.”
I look down at Jess, her body slick with sweat, her eyes closed, her breath soft and steady. She’s out cold, her body spent from the heat, the fucking, and the knotting.
Protectiveness washes over me. She’s so small, so vulnerable, tucked between Cassian and me. I want to wrap her up, keep her safe, make sure nothing ever hurts her again.
Heats don’t burn out after one round. Not the real ones. This was only the first wave, and when it comes back, it will be worse.
If we were already wrecked, I had no idea how the hell any of us were supposed to survive round two.
CHAPTER 35
ELI
The bed smells like citrus, sweat, and sex—a smell so thick it clings to the back of my tongue, makes my head swim before I even open my eyes.
Sheets twisted into a rope around my left ankle. My right hand jammed between a stack of pillows and Rowan’s thigh.
I squint against the faint glow bleeding through the blackout curtains. The clock on the nightstand blinks a silent eulogy for sleep: 2:19 AM, or PM, who knows anymore.
My contacts are half-welded to my eyeballs, my mouth tastes like ash, and my pulse still hums from whatever the hell we were doing before gravity decided to suck me under.
There’s a high-pitched, wet sound, muffled but insistent. Not the slick rhythm of movement or a moan, but a shiver—Jess, dreaming or coming down from another spike.
I pivot my head and find her curled on the far edge, knees to her chest, hair plastered to her cheek in black comma-shaped loops. Her skin’s a few shades darker than usual, flushed everywhere, and if I focus, there’s a tremor in her thigh. There’s sweat dotting her shoulders like gemstones, reflecting the littlered light from Rowan’s fitness watch, which he refuses to take off even in bed.
I let my gaze move from Rowan, sprawl of muscle and limbs, to Cassian, face down and arm draped over Jess’s hip, his hand flexing in sleep as if still holding her in place.
It takes a second for the facts to queue up: we wore her out, but not enough. She’s in the center of a chemical storm that’s only paused to regroup.
I reach over and brush Jess’s temple, pushing the damp hair back. She jerks awake at the contact. For a microsecond, she’s just Jess, stripped down to blood and nerves.
“Eli.” Her voice is shot, sandpaper and static, but she forces it into my name like she’s steadying herself.
“I’m here.” I keep my hand on her, letting her feel the difference between my skin and hers—mine: cool, dry, Beta-neutral. Hers: heatwave.
I slide my palm down the back of her neck, to her shoulder blade, offering comfort.
“Hydration,” I say, just loud enough for her and not the rest of the heap. “You’re burning up.”
Her lips twitch—almost a smile, but mostly pain. “Always taking care of me—of us.”
“If I didn’t, you’d all be eating fast food every day.” I thumb over her clavicle, then risk a glance at the other two.
