Page 8 of Unbonded (Pack’s Companion #3)

“Wait, did she leave already?” I ask when I come out of the bathroom to find Corbus alone on the edge of the bed. He’s removed his jacket and bowtie and is tapping out a message on his phone. “Damn, did you get her number at least?”

“Ms. Valentine’s?” Corbus looks up in surprise, tucking his phone back in his pocket as he walks over to meet me.

“She left a while ago.” His gaze caresses my face and chest, igniting the usual tingly reaction.

The perfect mix of elegance and authority, Corbus Janssen is a stunning example of alphahood, and I’m still getting used to the fact that I’ve caught - and held - his attention for this long. “Are you alright? No more dizziness?”

Usually I love being fussed over, but now I slip past him, and holding the towel tight at my waist, stick my head out the door.

To my disappointment, even the room service cart is gone, and the only sign of Kate’s presence is the faint whiff of vanilla in the air.

I sigh as I head back to the bed, and Corbus’ eyes darken with worry.

“You need to be careful, sweetheart. Your body is sending out warning signals because you’re pushing yourself so hard. ”

It’s true. The last few weeks leading up to opening night always take an insane toll on my body, but that’s nothing new. I’ve been dancing since I was three, and extreme pressure is hardly a new state of mind for me. “I’m fine. It was just a wobbly moment.”

“You could’ve really hurt yourself,” Bram says as he comes out of the bathroom in his own damp towel.

His leather and ink scent curls around me as he brushes my cheek and I lean into him instinctively, even though we just shared more than a few caresses in the shower.

A naked Bram and expensive body wash is a hard combination to resist.

If Corbus is elegant, Bram is pure alpha dominance, to the point that he’s one of the few of his designation that can be labeled an uber alpha.

Too powerful to fully control, and too rare to be common knowledge, society has always kept ubers in the shadows, the government never officially recognizing their existence.

Bram doesn’t talk about it much, but he was careful to make me aware of his status when we first started courting.

I appreciated the heads-up, since ubers are more than just permanent knots and the intense ruts you see in alpha porn.

They possess a voice command that can send you to your knees, and while it’s one of my happiest positions when it comes to Bram, it could be a dangerous weapon in the hands of the wrong kind of alpha.

I turn to look at him now, taking in the dark crew cut, amber eyes, and packed muscle stretched over radiant skin.

When his protective instincts are on high alert, he literally glows with dominance and would have probably made it all the way to mob boss or five-star general if he was so inclined.

But Bram says he’s only ever been interested in crunching numbers.

Given his natural attributes, he doubles as Corbus’ personal bodyguard when they’re traveling, but his official title is Head of Financial Operations for Paragon, one of the biggest privately-owned gemstone brands in the world.

“I’ll take better care of myself,” I promise him, reaching up and cupping his strained face.

As a successful dancer who headlines productions around the world, there’s a host of people who are employed to look after me, but that’s just their job.

Bram and Corbus treat my health and happiness like it’s their life mission.

“I still want you to see the doctor in the morning,” Corbus says, wrapping his arms around me and nuzzling my neck. “But now you’ve freshened up, do you want to stay here or head home?”

I rented a small apartment near the theatre when I made lead principal, but for the last couple of months I’ve been doing a lot of sleepovers at the guys’ house off Fifth Avenue in Lenox Hill.

I love the convenience of my old commute, but nothing beats their six-bedroom Art Deco mansion with a private garden oasis and a rooftop pool.

But right now, I’m too worn out to travel even that far, and I eye the bed.

I hadn’t planned on staying the night, and while it’s a junior suite, I’m not sure there’s enough room for three.

Personally, I could sleep on the flatbed of a truck if the two alphas were with me, but they’re used to a different level of luxury.

“You think we can make this bed work for all of us?”

“It’ll be just like my old college dorm room,” Corbus says, and I snort, since he went to some fancy university in Switzerland, and I’m pretty sure the only dorm rooms he’s ever seen were on TV. “Cozy, yes?”

That sounds perfect to me, and while Bram and I lose our towels and climb into bed, Corbus gives us an unintentional striptease.

His muscles clench and relax in a delicious display as he peels off his shirt and steps out of his tuxedo pants.

He is precise in everything he does, placing his cufflinks on the nightstand next to his Jaeger LeCoultre watch, and folding his clothes like he just spent the summer working at the Gap.

I bite my lip to hold in my laughter, but it soon turns to a groan of appreciation when he slides under the covers on my other side.

My scent – described as white florals and black tea by House of Omega, who made a signature line in my honor – blossoms around us as we snuggle down together.

“I’m sorry I dragged you away from your party.” I murmur, since it was sponsored by their charitable organization, The Paragon Institute, in conjunction with the mayor’s office.

“It’s not a party without you,” Corbus says, his arm forming a cushion for my head. “But I wish you told us you weren’t feeling well. If you’d been up here alone and hurt yourself worse…”

He breaks off, and I squirm a little at the lingering tension I can feel in his body.

It’s not hard to work out why he’s upset.

If we were a real pack, they would always know where I am and be able to pick up my mood through our bond.

“I should’ve told you I booked a room,” I murmur quietly, not quite able to meet their eyes.

“I think everything just got to me for a moment, and I had to get out of there for a bit.”

I can feel them looking at each other over my head. If they were different alphas, I know they’d be taking my need for distance personally, but Bram’s voice is low and soothing as he asks, “Did you have another panic attack?”

I mastered stage fright before I beat acne, and I dance rings around the kind of anxiety that plagues other performers.

But panic attacks – usually brought on by high-pitched laughter or the scent of lilies – can still trip me up in the worst way.

Trauma from a childhood with a bully for a father and a narcissist of a mother, both so wrapped up in each other I was never anything more than an interruption to their grand love story.

“No, but my parents like to come to this hotel for their anniversary. I thought if I had the misfortune to cross paths with them…”

“You’d need a safe space to retreat to.”

I grimace at the self-recrimination I can hear in Bram’s voice.

They know about my toxic relationship with my parents – at least, as much as I could share, since most of my childhood memories still bring a cold sweat to my skin – and they both cuddle closer, their protective instincts on high alert.

“I wish I knew how you felt about this hotel,” Corbus says, sounding contrite. “I would’ve got the mayor’s office to change it.”

“I like it fine,” I protest, because if I hadn’t needed a serenity room, my path might never have crossed with Kate’s, and that would be a damn shame. “It’s just my procreators I can’t stand.”

Bram grunts and I turn my head in time to catch a flash of eyeshine – the uber’s warning signal that looks like a cat caught in the beam of a flashlight.

I hate the fact that my lousy parents can make him so angry, but I also love how protective he is of me.

It was never something I experienced growing up, and while my mother claims their “hands-off” approach inspired me to excel in my career, it has also chased me through every relationship I’ve ever had.

A surge of affection for my alphas is quickly followed by a prickle of arousal, and I watch Bram’s eyeshine fade as he catches scent of my slick.

This is a different kind of predatory instinct, and I squirm.

My mind instantly goes to the way he backed me up against the shower tile earlier, his big hands washing the blood from my skin with so much gentleness I almost melted down the drain.

If I wasn’t so lightheaded, I’d crawl under the covers and show him my appreciation, but instead, I reach down and swipe my hands through my own slick.

When they’re nice and wet, I palm both of their thick cocks, grinning at the dual hitch in their breathing.

I give them a slow, teasing stroke, my fingers tingling as I graze Bram’s thick knot and smear Corbus’ pre-cum over his mushroom head.

They’re both built like gods, if on a slightly different scale, and my family drama is forgotten as I worship their throbbing shafts.

In exchange, they cover me in kisses, caressing every inch of my body with their lips and hands.

While I’m the very happy bridge between them, it adds a little extra spice when their tongues and cocks cross, their pheromones thickening until I’m almost drowning in their shared arousal.

“Before we leave in the morning, I’m going to ride this thick knot while I swallow down this fat head,” I tell them in my huskiest voice.

They both growl, their hips bucking in unison as I speed up my strokes.

“The next time I think of this hotel, all I’ll be able to remember is being the happy filling in my delicious alpha sandwich. ”