Page 48

Dean

I wake up in Lila's bed and it feels like coming home.

Not just the physical comfort. Though her mattress is definitely better than mine, and the way she's curled against my side with her head on my chest makes every nerve ending sing with contentment.

It's the rightness of it. The way her scent wraps around me like a blanket, green apple and white musk mixed with traces of all three of us alphas that speak to something deeper than just shared space.

We're becoming something. All of us together. And last night proved it.

I'm careful not to wake her or the others as I extract myself from the tangle of limbs and sheets, pressing a soft kiss to her temple before padding downstairs in just my boxer briefs.

The morning light streaming through her kitchen windows feels different, somehow warmer, more like home than the house I share with Levi and Elijah.

Because this is home now. This house, this woman, this impossible beautiful thing we're building together.

The new coffee maker is already programmed. Julian's doing, probably, because of course he thought ahead to morning logistics. The man plans for everything, including making sure we'd wake up to fresh coffee after a night that changed everything between us.

I pour myself a cup and settle at the kitchen table where his laptop still sits from yesterday, closed but surrounded by the evidence of his research spiral.

Notes about optimal positioning and interview protocols scattered like he was trying to solve a puzzle that couldn't be solved through analysis alone.

Poor guy. I found him and Lila in quite the compromising position when Callum and I showed up for dinner, and while the sight had sent heat straight to my cock, it also made something tender settle in my chest. Julian needed taking care of, and Lila had seen it, given him exactly what he needed without being asked.

The way she looked at the three of us after. Like she wanted to give us everything, take everything we had to offer in return, had nearly undone me completely.

"Morning."

I look up to find Callum in the doorway, hair messed from sleep, wearing yesterday's jeans and nothing else.

His chest is bare and marked with what looks suspiciously like teeth marks on his shoulder.

Evidence of how the evening progressed after I lost the ability to think about anything except Lila's hands and mouth and the sounds she made when we touched her.

"Sleep well?" I ask with a grin.

"Eventually." His voice is rough with satisfaction, and when he moves to pour his own coffee, I catch sight of scratches down his back that make me remember exactly how vocal Lila got when Callum used his mouth on her. "You?"

"Like the dead. Best sleep I've had in years."

It's true. Something about being in her space, surrounded by her scent, knowing she's safe and satisfied and ours, had let me relax in ways I hadn't even realized I needed.

No part of my brain worrying about whether she'd be there in the morning, whether this was real, whether I was fooling myself about what we meant to each other.

For the first time since this thing between us started, I'd fallen asleep without a single doubt about where I belonged.

"Julian still upstairs?" Callum asks, settling across from me with his coffee.

"Bathroom, I think. Man takes longer showers than anyone I know."

"Probably trying to process what happened," Callum says with the hint of a smile. "You know how he gets when his careful plans get disrupted."

That's putting it mildly. Julian had approached last night like he was conducting a symphony, careful attention to every touch, every response, making sure Lila was thoroughly worshipped while we learned exactly what made her fall apart in our hands.

But somewhere in the middle of it all, when she'd pulled him down for a kiss that was pure hunger and demand, his control had snapped completely.

Watching Julian lose himself in her had been almost as intoxicating as touching her myself.

"He'll adjust," I say, meaning it. "We all will. This is new territory for everyone."

Footsteps on the stairs announce Julian's arrival, and when he appears in the kitchen doorway, his hair damp from the shower and wearing yesterday's clothes, there's something different about his posture. Less rigid. More settled.

"Morning," he says, accepting the coffee cup Callum hands him with a small smile. "Sleep well?"

"Better than I have in months," I admit. "You?"

"Remarkably well, considering." He settles into the chair beside me, close enough that I can smell his soap and the lingering traces of Lila's scent on his skin.

"Considering?" Callum prompts gently.

"It feels right," Julian finishes, wonder in his voice. "All of us together. I can't bring myself to analyze it to death when it feels this good."

"Probably because some things aren't meant to be analyzed," I point out, remembering Lila's words from yesterday. "Some things just are."

Julian nods slowly, like he's testing out the concept. "I'm learning that. Slowly."

The comfortable silence that follows is interrupted by soft footsteps on the stairs.

Lila appears in the kitchen doorway wearing one of my t-shirts—I keep leaving them here on purpose and she keeps wearing them—and nothing else, her hair tousled from sleep and her skin still flushed with the kind of glow that speaks to a thoroughly satisfying night.

The sight of her hits me like a physical blow. She's beautiful every day, but there's something about seeing her in my clothes, in her own space, surrounded by the evidence of our presence, that makes my chest tight with possessive satisfaction.

My shirt hangs loose on her frame, the soft cotton skimming places these hands have touched and claimed. The hem barely covers her thighs, and every step she takes reminds me exactly what's underneath that thin fabric.

"Good morning," she says, her voice still rough with sleep, and when she moves toward the coffee maker, I catch the slight hitch in her step that suggests she's feeling the effects of last night's activities.

The knowledge that we did that, that we marked her in ways only she can feel, sends heat racing through my system.

"Morning, sweetheart," I manage, my voice rougher than intended.

She pauses in her coffee making to press a soft kiss to my temple, the casual intimacy of the gesture making something warm settle in my chest. When she moves to do the same with Callum and Julian, the domestic picture we make feels so natural it's almost jarring.

This is what I want. Not just the incredible physical connection we discovered last night, but this. Morning coffee and shared space and the easy affection of people who belong together.

"Any plans for today?" she asks, settling into the chair beside Julian with her steaming mug.

"Work," Callum says with obvious reluctance. "Got three orders backing up that can't wait any longer."

"Same," Julian agrees. "Mr. Patterson's been calling about his quarterly reports, and I've been... distracted."

The way he says it, with heat in his eyes as he looks at Lila, makes her cheeks flush pink in a way that's absolutely devastating.

"I've got some work to do down at the station for a few hours," I add, though the thought of leaving this warm kitchen for the firehouse feels like punishment. "But tonight..."

"Tonight you're all coming back," Lila says, and there's something fierce in her voice.

The next hour passes in comfortable domesticity that feels more natural than anything I've experienced in years.

Lila makes breakfast, eggs and toast and bacon that fills the kitchen with warm, homey scents.

I help by doing what I do best when I'm happy.

Cooking alongside her, adding touches here and there, making sure there's enough food for everyone.

Julian organizes his research materials from yesterday with characteristic efficiency, but I notice he keeps looking up to watch us move around each other in the kitchen. Like he's cataloging this moment, storing it away as evidence that what we're building is real.

Callum examines a loose cabinet handle with the kind of focus that suggests he's already planning to fix it later, because that's what Callum does, notices what needs attention and quietly makes it better.

And I just... exist in the middle of it all, watching the people I care for move around each other with increasing ease, feeling more settled than I have in years.

Because that's what this is, I realize as I watch Lila hand Julian more coffee without being asked, as Callum automatically steadies her when she reaches for something on a high shelf. Care…. Love . Not just attraction or chemistry or the biological pull that brought us together during her heat.

Love. Real, complicated, forever kind of love.

The thought should terrify me. A months ago I was single, content with my job and my roommates and my quiet life in Honeyridge Falls. Now I'm part of something that doesn't have a name, something that challenges every assumption I had about how relationships work.

But looking around this kitchen, watching Julian explain something to Lila while Callum tests the repaired cabinet handle, all I feel is gratitude. Gratitude that she came here, that she chose us, that we were brave enough to choose her back.

"I should probably head out," I say reluctantly as the clock creeps toward nine-thirty. "Williams gets cranky when I’m late."

"Me too," Callum agrees, though he doesn't move from where he's been watching Lila wash dishes. "Got a delivery coming at ten that can't be rescheduled."

"And I promised Mr. Patterson I'd have his reports ready by lunch," Julian adds, closing his laptop with obvious reluctance.

None of us actually move to leave, though. We just sit there, reluctant to break up this perfect morning bubble we've created.

"Go," Lila says with gentle amusement. "I'll be here when you get back."

"Promise?" I ask, only half-joking.

"Promise," she confirms, rising to press a soft kiss to my lips that tastes like coffee and contentment. "Besides, someone needs to go grocery shopping if you're all coming for dinner again. I'm thinking something more ambitious than takeout."

"You don't have to cook for us," Callum protests, even as he leans into the goodbye kiss she gives him.

"I want to," she says simply. "I like taking care of you."

The admission makes my chest warm, because it's not about obligation or expectation. She genuinely wants to take care of us the same way we want to take care of her. It's reciprocal, balanced, exactly what a healthy pack should be.

Julian gets the last goodbye kiss, lingering and soft and full of promise, and I watch his careful composure melt completely under her attention.

"See you tonight," she murmurs against his lips.

"Tonight," he confirms, his voice rough with want.

The drive to the station passes in a blur of familiar streets and mounting anticipation.

Not just for tonight, though the thought of returning to Lila's house, to her bed, to the incredible intimacy we discovered last night, makes my skin feel too tight.

But for all the tomorrows that suddenly feel possible.

"Maddox!" Williams calls as I'm changing into my uniform. "You're practically glowing. Either you won the lottery or you got laid. Please tell me it's the lottery so I don't have to hear details."

"Sorry, Cap," I say with a grin I can't suppress. "No lottery winnings to report."

"Damn," he mutters, but there's affection in his voice. "Well, whatever's got you this happy, try to maintain some professional composure. We've got a station full of rookies who don't need to see their lieutenant floating around like a lovesick teenager."

"Yes, sir."

But I can't quite manage to wipe the smile off my face.