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"Please," I whispered, beyond coherent thought now. "I need—I need?—"

"We know what you need," Rowen's voice rumbled from beside us. His hand finally moved to my thigh, long fingers splaying possessively over the fabric of my borrowed leggings. "Let us take care of you, Sierra."

On my other side, Archer moved closer, his ice-blue eyes dark with desire. "Let us in," he urged softly, reaching to brush a strand of hair from my face. "Let us ease this heat before it consumes you."

The rational part of my brain made one last, feeble attempt at protest. I'd come here for answers, not this. I hardly knew these men. This bond, this "fated mate" business—it was all too new, too strange.

But as Callum's mouth returned to mine, as Rowen's hand slid higher on my thigh, as Archer's fingers traced delicate patterns on my collarbone, rationality surrendered to instinct. To need. To the undeniable pull of the three men who claimed me as theirs.

The heat coiled tighter in my core, a living thing that demanded satisfaction. Every touch, every breath against my skin only stoked it higher. Through the strengthening bonds between us, I could feel their desire echoing my own, amplifying it, reflecting it back to me until I couldn't tell where my need ended and theirs began.

"Mine," Callum growled against my lips, his hand cupping my face possessively. "Ours."

And in that moment, with the three of them surrounding me, claiming me with eyes and hands and lips, I couldn't find it in me to argue. Instead, I surrendered to the heat, to the bonds, to the primal knowledge that had been there all along.

I belonged to them. They belonged to me. And nothing would ever be the same again.

14

Sierra

My world narrowed to sensations. The soft furs beneath me, the weight of Callum's body alongside mine. The heat of three gazes fixed on me with predatory intensity. The fever coursing through my veins made everything sharper, brighter, more intense. Each breath felt like fire in my lungs.

Callum's kiss deepened, one hand tangling in my silver hair while the other traced possessive patterns against my collarbone. I was dimly aware of movement on either side of me. Rowen and Archer worked in perfect sync, their hands finding the edges of my borrowed clothing.

"Let us take care of you," Rowen murmured, his fingers hooking under the hem of my tunic.

I nodded frantically, beyond words, beyond shame. The rational part of my brain—the part that should have been screaming caution—was drowning in a sea of primal need.

Cool air kissed my skin as they worked together to strip me, the fabric sliding away under deft fingers. Archer's ice-blue eyes darkened as more of my flesh was revealed, his gaze lingering on the curve of my waist, the swell of my breasts, the silver piercings in my lower lip catching the dappled light.

"Beautiful," he breathed, one finger tracing the line of my jaw. "So fucking beautiful."

The coarse language from his usually controlled lips sent a fresh surge of heat between my thighs. I arched into his touch, shameless in my need.

Callum broke our kiss only to trail his lips down my throat, pausing to speak against my pulse point. "I can feel your heartbeat," he whispered, his breath hot against my fevered skin. "Racing for us. Only for us."

His teeth scraped lightly over the sensitive juncture where my neck met my shoulder, and I knew—some primal part of me recognized—this was where his claiming mark would go. The thought should have terrified me. Instead, I tilted my head, offering better access, a whimper escaping my lips.

"So eager," he traced the spot with his tongue. "So ready to be claimed."

Rowen's hands slid up my now-bare sides, his touch both reverent and possessive. "The headboard," he said, voice low and commanding. "Hold onto the vines, little witch. And keep your hands there."

I looked up at the intricate wooden headboard with its twisting vines and leaves. It felt like the most natural thing in the world to reach up and grasp two of the loops, my fingers curling around the smooth wood.

"Good girl," Archer murmured, the praise sending a shiver through me. His hands replaced Callum's on my ribs, sliding upward until they cupped the undersides of my breasts. "And what happens if you let go?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with promise and threat. My breath caught in my throat.

"You'll be punished," Rowen supplied, his obsidian eyes glittering with dark promise. "And while you might enjoy that another time, tonight we need to ease this heat first."

The authoritative tone in his voice. The absolute certainty that there would be other nights, other opportunities—made something molten pool in my core.

"Don't let go," Callum warned, his lips moving lower, trailing fire across my collarbone.

I nodded, my fingers tightening around the wooden loops. "I won't," I gasped, the promise barely audible.

Archer's thumbs brushed across my nipples, and I arched into the touch with a broken moan. The sensation was almost too much for my oversensitized skin, pleasure verging on pain. He did it again, more firmly this time, watching my face as I gasped.