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I should have been scared. Should have been outraged. Instead, I felt a treacherous heat pooling in my core, my cock already hardening despite my mental protests. The mate bond hummed between us, amplifying every sensation, every emotion, until I couldn’t tell where my anger ended and my desire began.

“Cade,” I whispered, not sure if I was pleading for him to stop or to continue.

He didn’t seem to care which, his mouth moving to my throat, teeth grazing the sensitive skin there in a way that made me arch despite myself. His hand released my jaw to trail down my chest, fingers finding my nipple and pinching hard enough to make me cry out.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he challenged, his voice rough against my skin. “Tell me you haven’t thought about us every day for four years. Tell me you haven’t ached for our touch the way we’ve ached for yours.”

I couldn’t. The lie wouldn’t come, not with his scent filling my lungs and his hands on my skin and the mate bond singing between us. So I said nothing, which was answer enough.

His mouth moved lower, teeth scraping over my collarbone before his lips closed around my nipple, the wet heat of his tongue making me moan despite my best efforts to stay silent. His hand slid down my stomach, wrapping around my cock with possessive certainty.

“Already hard for me,” he murmured against my skin, satisfaction evident in his tone. “For us.”

The bed dipped beside us, and Logan’s scent filled my senses. Four years had transformed him. The already formidable middle brother had become something truly intimidating—his muscular frame now bordered on massive, shoulders broader, arms thicker with corded muscle. His dark-blond hair was still military-short, but new scars marked his skin, telling stories of battles I hadn’t witnessed.

When his hand replaced Cade’s on my wrists, I felt the difference immediately. His grip was even tighter, the calluses on his palms rougher, the strength in his fingers almost crushing. This wasn’t the Logan I remembered—this was a warrior honed to lethal perfection. His sea-green eyes had hardened, the playful glint replaced by something primal and dangerous as he leaned down to claim my mouth.

Unlike Cade’s punishing kiss, Logan’s was pure dominance—demanding and intense, his tongue thrusting into my mouth with the same rhythm his body would claim mine later. There was nothing gentle about it, nothing teasing—just raw need andfour years of pent-up desire. His free hand gripped my jaw with bruising force, holding me exactly where he wanted me.

“Missed you, little fox,” he growled against my lips, biting down hard enough to make me whimper. The rumble of his voice was deeper, rougher than I remembered, vibrating through my chest like thunder. “Not letting you go again. Ever.”

The possessiveness in his tone sent shivers down my spine. The middle brother had always been the most physically aggressive, but now there was an edge of controlled violence in his every movement that hadn’t been there before. Whatever had happened in the four years I’d been gone had turned Logan from merely dangerous to devastatingly lethal.

The dual assault was overwhelming—Cade’s mouth on my chest, his hand stroking my cock with maddening precision, Logan’s kiss stealing my breath and my resistance. The mate bond pulsed between us, stronger than ever, dragging me under like a riptide I couldn’t fight.

I was drowning in sensation, in them, in the feelings I’d spent four years denying. My body was betraying me, responding to their touches like it had been starved for them—which, in a way, it had been. My hips bucked up into Cade’s hand, seeking more friction, more pressure, more of everything they were giving me.

“Look at him,” Logan said to Cade, his voice a dangerous rumble. “His body remembers who he belongs to, even if his mind wants to forget.”

“Always has been ours,” Cade agreed. “Always will be.”

I whimpered, the sound embarrassingly needy even to my own ears. Four years of independence, of building a life on my own terms, and it had taken them less than an hour to reduce me to this—a trembling, wanting mess beneath their hands.

“I hate you,” I gasped, the words lacking any real conviction as my body arched into their touch. “I hate all of this.”

“No, you don’t,” they said in unison, the certainty in their voices more infuriating than any argument could have been.

“Having fun without me?” a familiar voice called from across the room, and my heart skipped a beat.

Keir.

I’d been so lost in Cade and Logan that I hadn’t heard the elevator arrive. He stood just inside the suite, and the sight of him after four years hit me like a physical blow.

The playful, charming brother I remembered had matured into something far more dangerous. At twenty-nine, Keir had grown into his Sinclair heritage with devastating effect. The boyish good looks had sharpened into something more refined, more lethal—high cheekbones and sculpted jaw framed by that signature golden-blond hair, now styled with deliberate casualness. His lean swimmer’s build had filled out, muscles more defined beneath his tailored shirt, still slimmer than Logan but with a coiled strength that hadn’t been there before.

But it was his eyes that had changed the most—that electric blue that had once sparkled with mischief now held the same predatory focus I’d seen in Cade’s gaze. The diplomat had learned to be a hunter.

Using the momentary distraction of his arrival, I wrenched myself free from Logan’s grip with strength born of desperation and scrambled off the bed.

The cool air of the room hit my bare skin as I moved. The shredded remains of my t-shirt hung uselessly from my shoulders, doing nothing to hide my nakedness as I rushed across the room.

I stumbled toward Keir, feeling doubly exposed—not just physically, but emotionally raw in a way I hadn’t been in four years. I grabbed his arm with desperate fingers, feeling the hard muscle beneath his sleeve—another reminder of how he’dchanged, how they’d all changed while I’d been trying to build a life without them.

“Help me,” I pleaded, looking up at him with genuine distress. “They’ve lost their minds! They’re being brutal and unreasonable and—and acting like savage beasts!”

Keir had always been the most reasonable of the three, the diplomat to Cade’s commander and Logan’s warrior. If anyone would listen to me, it would be him. But even as I clung to him, I could feel the difference in his presence—the playful younger brother had become every inch a Sinclair alpha.

His electric blue eyes drifted down my body in a slow, deliberate assessment that made my skin heat despite my desperation. I watched his pupils dilate as he took in my state—the torn shirt hanging from my shoulders, my naked body bearing the marks of his brothers’ attentions, my cock still half-hard despite my attempt to escape. The hunger that flashed across his face was primal, possessive—a look that said he was memorizing every inch of what he considered his after four years of deprivation.