Page 64

Sierra

I woke with a groan, my entire body aching in places I didn't know could ache. Sticky and covered in various bodily fluids—cum, spit, my own arousal—I felt like I'd been run over by a truck. A sex truck. Multiple times.

My eyes fluttered open to find myself in the center of our massive bed, the nest I'd so carefully constructed now a disaster zone of rumpled blankets and displaced pillows.

The fairy lights Callum had strung above the bed twinkled softly, casting a gentle glow over the aftermath of what had clearly been days of intense activity.

How long had I been lost in the throes of my heat? Hours? Days? I had no concept of time passing—just flashes of memory. Hands gripping my hips. Mouths on my skin. Pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.

I tried to move and immediately regretted it. Every muscle in my body protested, sending sharp reminders of exactly how thoroughly I'd been claimed by my three mates. My throat felt like sandpaper, parched and raw from screaming their names.

A large, warm hand settled on my shoulder, and I turned my head to find Rowen watching me with those obsidian eyes. His expression held something I rarely saw there. Concern, tenderness, and a hint of uncertainty.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, his deep voice rumbling through me.

I tried to answer, but all that came out was a dry croak. Rowen immediately reached for a water bottle on the bedside table, uncapping it before sliding an arm behind my shoulders to help me sit up.

"Easy," he murmured as I winced at the movement. "Take small sips."

The cool water was heaven against my parched throat. I drank greedily, nearly choking in my eagerness until Rowen pulled the bottle away.

"Slowly," he admonished, his thumb stroking the nape of my neck. "There's plenty more."

After a few more careful sips, I found my voice. "I feel like I've been hit by a bus," I rasped. "A really pleasurable bus, but still a bus."

A ghost of a smile touched Rowen's lips. "Not surprising. You've been in the throes of your heat for nearly three days."

"Three days?" I echoed, stunned. It had felt both longer and shorter than that—time had lost all meaning in the haze of need and satisfaction.

My stomach chose that moment to growl loudly, the sound almost comically at odds with the gravity of our conversation.

"And apparently you're hungry," Rowen observed, his expression softening further. "Callum is cooking breakfast. He had a feeling the worst of it had passed after the last round."

I nodded, allowing Rowen to help me drink more water. The bottle was soon empty, and I sighed in relief as the cool liquid soothed my abused throat.

"Bath?" I asked hopefully, looking down at my body. I was a mess—covered in dried sweat, cum, and who knew what else. My skin felt tacky and uncomfortable, my hair a tangled disaster.

"Of course," Rowen said, setting the empty bottle aside. Before I could protest, he'd scooped me into his arms as if I weighed nothing, cradling me against his broad chest.

"I can walk," I objected weakly, even as I nestled closer to his warmth.

"You can barely move," he countered, carrying me toward the bathroom. "Let me take care of you."

The massive bathroom was already prepared, the sunken tub filled with steaming water that smelled faintly of lavender and eucalyptus. Rowen had planned ahead, anticipating my needs before I'd even awakened.

He lowered me into the water with surprising gentleness, and I couldn't suppress a moan of pleasure as the heat enveloped my sore muscles. Rowen knelt beside the tub, rolling up his sleeves before reaching for a soft cloth and soap.

"You don't have to—" I began, but he silenced me with a look.

"Let me," he said simply, and there was something in his voice that made further argument impossible.

I surrendered to his ministrations, closing my eyes as he began to wash me with careful, thorough movements. He started with my face, wiping away the evidence of tears and sweat, then moved to my neck, working his way down my body with methodical attention.

There was nothing sexual about his touch, only tender care that made my chest ache with emotion. This was Rowen, the feared ruler of the underworld, washing my body with the reverence one might show a priceless artifact.

"I remember bits and pieces," I murmured as he lifted one of my arms to wash it. "The heat... it was like being lost in a fog. Everything was sensation and need."

"You were magnificent," Rowen said, his voice low and serious. "Even in the depths of your heat, you never truly lost yourself. You were always our Sierra."

I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes, touched by his words. "Did I... did I do anything embarrassing?"

A rare, genuine laugh escaped him. "Besides begging all three of us to fuck you senseless? Or demanding we fill you with our cum until you overflowed? Or the time you?—"

"Okay, okay," I interrupted, feeling heat rise to my cheeks that had nothing to do with the bath. "I get the picture."

Rowen's smile remained as he continued washing me, his large hands impossibly gentle as they moved over my tender skin. I noticed bruises and bite marks scattered across my body, evidence of the passion we'd shared.

"You're marked all over," he observed, tracing a particularly vivid bruise on my hip with his thumb. "Mostly Callum's work. He got a bit... enthusiastic."

I smiled despite my embarrassment. "I don't mind. I like carrying the marks. It makes me feel..." I searched for the right word. "Claimed. Protected."

Something possessive flashed in Rowen's eyes. "You are claimed. Thoroughly." His hand moved to my neck, where I knew all three of them had left their marks. "No one will ever doubt who you belong to now."

He helped me wash my hair next, his strong fingers massaging my scalp with just the right pressure. I practically purred under his attention, the last of the tension draining from my body.

When I was finally clean, Rowen helped me from the bath, wrapping me in a massive fluffy towel before drying me with the same careful attention he'd shown while washing me.

He slipped one of his shirts over my head, the fabric swallowing my smaller frame, and I breathed in his scent, finding comfort in being surrounded by it.

"Better?" he asked, his eyes searching my face.

I nodded, leaning forward to press a kiss to his jaw. "Thank you."

Despite my protests that I could walk, Rowen insisted on carrying me back to the bedroom and then to the kitchen. I gave up arguing and simply enjoyed being cradled against his chest, my head resting on his shoulder.

The kitchen was filled with the mouthwatering scent of breakfast when we arrived. Callum stood at the stove, his back to us as he flipped pancakes with practiced ease. Archer sat at the table, a mug of coffee cradled between his hands.

Archer looked up as we entered, his ice-blue eyes warming at the sight of me. "There she is," he said, rising to his feet. He crossed the room in a few quick strides, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. "How are you feeling?"

"Sore," I admitted with a small smile. "But good. Really good."

"She's hungry," Rowen informed them, carrying me to the table.

Instead of setting me in my own chair, Archer pulled me onto his lap as soon as Rowen released me. I settled against him, enjoying the solid warmth of his body against mine.

"I imagine you are," Callum called from the stove, glancing over his shoulder with a grin that transformed his usually serious face. "You've been burning calories at an alarming rate."

I felt heat rise to my cheeks again, remembering flashes of the past three days, riding Callum while Rowen watched, taking Archer in my mouth while Callum fucked me from behind, all three of them surrounding me, filling me, claiming me in every way possible.

"I don't remember much," I confessed, though the lie was obvious from my blush.

"Liar," Archer murmured against my ear, his breath warm on my skin. "You remember exactly how good we made you feel."

Before I could formulate a response, Callum approached with a plate piled high with pancakes, bacon, and eggs. My stomach growled again at the sight, and I realized I was ravenous.

"Eat," Callum commanded, setting the plate before me. "You need to regain your strength."

I didn't need to be told twice. I dug in with enthusiasm, moaning around the first bite of pancake. "This is amazing," I mumbled through a mouthful of food.

Callum smiled, looking pleased with my reaction. "Slow down. There's plenty more."

As I ate, I became aware of a subtle shift in the dynamic between us. Something had changed during my heat, something fundamental in our bond. I couldn't put my finger on it exactly, but there was a new ease, a deeper connection that hadn't been there before.

The way Archer held me, his hand resting possessively on my thigh. The way Rowen watched me with those intense obsidian eyes. The way Callum smiled, softer and more open than I'd ever seen him. There was something different in all of it.

I paused with my fork halfway to my mouth, suddenly struck by the realization. "Something's different," I said, looking between them. "With us. With the bond."

Rowen nodded, his expression serious. "The claiming ritual during your primal celestial heat has strengthened our connection. We're more fully bonded now than before."

"I can feel you," Archer added, his hand tightening slightly on my thigh. "Not just physically, but here." He tapped his temple. "Your emotions, your thoughts—even more than before."

"I felt it too," I admitted. "Like I know what you're feeling without you saying anything." I turned to look at Callum. "You're worried about something."

Callum's eyebrows rose slightly. "Impressive. Yes, I am."

"What is it?" I asked, setting down my fork. "Is it the Shadow Beast?"

The three men exchanged glances, a silent communication passing between them.

"We believe your heat has temporarily weakened the barriers between realms," Rowen explained carefully. "The power you unleashed during the past three days... it was considerable."

"And the Shadow Beast feeds on such energy," Archer continued. "We need to move forward with our plan to forge Lightbringer soon, before it regains enough strength to come for you again."

I nodded, feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room. "Then that's what we'll do," I said with more confidence than I felt. "How soon can we start?"

"You need to rest first," Callum insisted, his pale green eyes intense. "Regain your strength. The forging ritual will require all of us at full power."

I wanted to argue, to insist we begin immediately, but the bone-deep exhaustion in my body told me he was right. I needed time to recover, to process the changes that had occurred during my heat.

"One day," I conceded, picking up my fork again. "I'll rest today, and tomorrow we forge Lightbringer."

The three of them nodded in agreement, and I returned to my breakfast, aware of their gazes on me, protective, possessive, and filled with something that looked suspiciously like love.

I knew that if I looked deep into my heart, I loved them without question. Although we hadn't said the words, other than Rowen, we knew what we all felt.

Whatever came next, whatever battles we faced, we would face them together. The bond between us had been tested in the crucible of my heat and emerged stronger than ever.

The Shadow Beast didn't stand a chance against what we had become.