Page 49 of Ruined By the Mafia Kings

Ty stirred again, consciousness returning briefly as Wyatt hit a particularly sensitive spot inside him. “Kiss me,” he whispered, the request softer now, less desperate but no less genuine. “Please.”

“How can anyone resist when you ask so nicely?” Conall remarked, though he made no move to interfere with Wyatt’s moment.

Wyatt complied, his mouth capturing Ty’s with surprising tenderness that contrasted with the controlled power of his thrusts. The kiss deepened as Wyatt’s pace increased, his usually impassive expression giving way to something hungrier, more primal.

Then Ty was gone again, consciousness fleeing as the overwhelming sensations became too much for his fever-racked system. Wyatt continued his careful claiming, each thrust deliberately targeted to maximize the biological relief while minimizing additional stress on Ty’s exhausted body.

“He’s fighting so hard,” Conall said. “Never seen an omega push through heat toxicity like this.”

Ty stirred once more, his eyes focusing on Wyatt’s face with surprising clarity given his condition. “You’re watching me,” he said. “Why?”

“Beautiful,” Wyatt replied simply.

“Our strong, stubborn little mouse,” Conall added softly. “Fighting even when his body’s betraying him.”

The unexpected compliment drew a soft smile from Ty before consciousness fled again, his body continuing to respond to Wyatt’s careful ministrations despite his mental absence. His release, when it came, racked his unconscious form with shudders that had all three alphas tightening their hold on him, concerned he might injure himself in the throes of such intense pleasure.

Wyatt followed him over the edge with a low growl, his knot expanding to lock them together as his release joined his brothers’ inside Ty. The biological satisfaction was immediate, Ty’s heat receding further with each pulse of alpha seed filling him.

As the last of the dangerous fever broke, exhaustion crashed over Ty with the force of a tidal wave. His head remained on Wyatt’s shoulder, his body completely limp as the adrenaline and heat-fueled energy finally deserted him.

“Sleep,” Anders said gently, reaching past Wyatt to turn off the shower. “We’ve got you.”

“Rest now, little mouse,” Conall added softly. “You’ve earned it.”

Ty didn’t argue, didn’t even stir. Wyatt cradled him against his chest as he stepped from the shower, water streaming down both their bodies. His knot still locked them together, forcing careful movements.

Anders caught Conall’s eye over Ty’s unconscious form. The chain at his wrist clinked as he clenched his fist.

“De Luca,” Anders said, voice barely above a whisper.

Conall nodded, a muscle jumping in his jaw. “Slowly.”

Wyatt’s normally impassive face hardened to granite. “With these.” He lifted his wrist slightly, the chain rattling with quiet menace.

They moved with practiced coordination despite their restraints. Conall grabbed a towel, dabbing gently at Ty’s feverish skin. Anders smoothed back the omega’s wet hair, his touch belying the murder in his eyes. Wyatt remained still, supporting Ty’s weight while the others tended to him.

“His breathing’s steadier,” Anders noted, fingers lingering at Ty’s pulse point.

When Wyatt’s knot finally subsided, he carefully separated from Ty. The omega made a small, pained sound in his sleep but didn’t wake.

“My bed,” Anders decided, already moving toward it.

They arranged Ty in the center, his small form nearly disappearing among the tangled sheets. They positioned themselves around him—Anders at his back, Conall facing him, Wyatt at his feet. Their chains stretched across the mattress, cold metal against warm skin.

Conall’s hand hovered over Ty’s cheek before gently brushing a strand of hair from his face. “What is this?” he asked, voice uncharacteristically uncertain.

Anders shook his head, unable to name the fierce protectiveness burning in his chest. Wyatt merely watched Ty’s sleeping face, his stormy eyes troubled.

“Whatever it is,” Anders finally said, “it changes things.”

The others nodded. No further words were needed.

twelve

. . .

Anders Knight watched Ty sleep between them, the omega’s face finally peaceful after hours of fever-induced torment. The steady rise and fall of his chest had become a focal point for all three alphas, each breath reassuring them that their little mouse had survived the dangerous heat crisis.