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They’re competing for me, these three ancient, powerful beings. Me—just-dumped, emotionally messy, completely ordinary human me.

And the craziest part?

I’m not even trying to defuse the situation.

I’m basking in it.

What does that say about me?

That after being betrayed by the man I thought loved me, I’m now entertaining the attention of three literal monsters?

That instead of being repulsed by their possessiveness, I’m… flattered? Aroused, even?

“This isn’t normal,” I say, more to myself than them.

“Normal is overrated,” Caspian murmurs.

Looking at the three of them, feeling the spark of desire each one ignites in different ways, I make a decision that would horrify my therapist, my mother, and probably every self-help book author in existence.

I’m going to see where this goes. All of it. Because beneath the snark and the confusion, there’s one truth I can’t deny anymore.

I don’t just tolerate their attention.

I crave it.

God help me, I crave them.

8

Oren

Istand in my grove—the heart of my forest, where the oldest trees whisper their secrets—trying to recenter myself after I had followed her scent to the shore’s edge. The thought of her alone with him stirred something in my core.

Lily’s presence has unbalanced me in ways I’ve never experienced.

Humans come and go, brief flickers of light in my long existence. Why does this one burn so brightly that I can see nothing else?

I place my palm against the oldest oak, feeling its steady pulse beneath my touch. The tree has stood for millennia, witnessing countless seasons, and weathering storms that felled its younger neighbors. I have guarded these woods since before humans built their first settlements nearby, watching their villages grow and fade, and observing their brief lives from a distance.

Until Lily.

Her kiss still lingers on my lips, more intoxicating than the rarest forest bloom. Her scent—sunshine and new growth and something uniquely her—has embedded itself in my senses. The small flowers that grow along my shoulders and arms have changed since her arrival, blooming brighter and straining toward her as if she carries the sun within her small form.

“Different,” I murmur to the silent trees. “Special.”

It’s more than her fearlessness, though that alone sets her apart. Most humans who glimpse me flee in terror or fall paralyzed with fear. She looked at me—truly saw me—and touched me with curiosity rather than revulsion. Her fingers traced the moss patterns on my skin as if they were beautiful rather than monstrous.

But it’s more than that.

She carries a wound within her—betrayal by her kind, her chosen mate—yet refuses to be defined by it. Her spirit remains unbroken, her heart guarded but not closed.

She responds to gentleness with genuine warmth, to beauty with unfiltered wonder. She sees the forest as I do—not as resources to be used, but as life to be honored.

The problem, of course, is that the others see her worth as well.

With his clever words and knowledge, Caspian offers her wonders beneath the water’s surface. Kaelen with his primal passion, his protective ferocity barely contained beneath his wolf-skin.

Both are powerful in their domains.