Page 9 of Sacrifice

“Hey, Gunnar,” she greets me, voice smooth like the first sip of whiskey on a cold night. There’s a hint of mischief dancing in her gaze, the kind that promises much more than words could convey.

“Started without me, huh?” I observe, closing the distance between us. Oberon, ever the stoic pillar, doesn’t miss a beat, his deep voice rumbling a greeting while Luka, who I know carries the weight of guilt like chains, offers a nod that speaks volumes of the complex web we’re all entangled in.

“Couldn’t help ourselves,” Luka admits, a flash of something dark and apologetic passing over his features. He’s still trying to find his footing after his eros overdose on New Eden, and the tension he radiates fills the room, at odds with Aisling and Oberon’s arousal.

“Can’t blame you,” I reply, my tone light but laced with an edge of command that has become second nature. I step closer, and Aisling glides into my arms with the fluidity of a moonlit wave. I catch her against me, feeling the heat of her body through the thin fabric that barely clings to her curves.

“We’ve been waiting for you,” she whispers, her breath warm against my neck.

“Good,” I murmur back, my hand finding the small of her back, fingers splaying possessively. Ever since her heat wrapped us all in its fierce grip two weeks ago, she’s handed me the reins during our group encounters. It’s a responsibility I relish, the control over our tangled desires both intoxicating and grounding.

I pull her in for a hard kiss, one that leaves no room for doubt about where this night is headed. She responds eagerly, lips parting, and I taste the hint of Luka on her tongue. Oberon watches us, his expression unreadable, but I know him well enough to catch the flare of anticipation in his eyes.

Between kisses, I reach for the hem of her shirt and draw it upward, revealing inch by tantalizingly pale inch of her skin. She raises her arms, allowing me to strip the garment away, and for a brief moment, we’re both caught in the raw intensity of the act.

“Beautiful,” I breathe out as her shirt falls to the floor.

She is fully in the moment, her grey eyes locked onto mine, a silent communication flowing between us. My fingers work deftly to unbutton her pants, and she steps out of them as they pool around her ankles. The sight of her, warm and pliant, her body now curled against mine, stirs something primal within me. I don’t stop until she stands completely bare before us, the alphas still clothed, a stark tableau of vulnerability and power.

“Rook didn’t want in on this?” I ask, my voice betraying none of the curiosity that gnaws at me. Her hand trails down, bold and unhesitant, and makes contact with my growing arousal.

She laughs, a sound that’s part mirth, part sin. “Can you imagine? ‘Hey, nice first date, wanna join an orgy?’”

“Missed opportunity,” I quip back, even as I cup her breast, thumb brushing over her nipple.

“Pack life,” Oberon murmurs from behind her, his presence suddenly close like a shadow joined to flesh. He leans in, lips pressing against the curve of her neck, and she tilts her head to give him better access. His hands ghost over mine, replacing my touch with his own, fingers skilled from countless encounters.

“Rook will learn,” he says, a promise wrapped in velvet tones.

“Or run,” Aisling adds, her voice a contrasting lilt to Oberon’s bass note. She doesn’t seem concerned either way, her body swaying slightly between us, caught in the tide of our shared heat. I can’t help but admire the sway of her hips, the arch of her back as she responds to our touches.

“Down,” I murmur, guiding her gently towards the plush carpet. She follows my lead seamlessly, her knees touching down with practiced grace. Even now, after all this time, the sight of her acquiescence sends a surge of possessive satisfaction through me. Oberon and I exchange a look over her head—an unspoken agreement in the flicker of our eyes.

This is pack life: raw, unfettered, and ours.

I unzip my pants and free my cock, grasping it in my hand and stroking it once, twice. Oberon mirrors my movements, Aisling not missing a beat as she takes me in her mouth. Her eyes meet mine, a grey that’s almost periwinkle in this light.

I watch Aisling work, her lips sliding over me in a rhythm that’s as familiar as it is thrilling. Her hand seeks out Oberon, grasping him firmly, and I can see the tremor of pleasure that runs through him at her touch. Luka, silent but for his ragged breaths, stands to the side—and he gasps when Aisling’s other hand finds him, pleasuring all three of us at once.

“Easy,” I say, voice tight as I take her by the hair, not to control but to guide. The strands slip like silk between my fingers, and she looks up at me, those grey eyes gleaming with a mix of submission and challenge. That look, it never gets old. It’s a reminder of who she is—my omega, our omega—strong enough to handle us all, yet yielding when it matters most.

“Give Luka a turn,” I command as I feel the edge coming closer, a precipice I’m not ready to tumble over just yet. She doesn’t hesitate, pivoting her attention to Luka, taking him into her mouth with an ease that speaks of her experience, her desire to please.

I step back, peeling off my clothes, watching the tableau before me unfold. Aisling’s chest heaves, nipples hard and rosy pink, her cheeks flushed as she takes Luka deep into her throat. Even as I shed the last of my garments, my gaze remains fixed on her, the way she services Luka now with the same dedication she’d shown me moments before. There’s something deeply satisfying about seeing her follow my directions, knowing she does so willingly, eagerly even.

Yet, as much as this scene strokes my ego, there’s an undercurrent of truth that I can’t ignore—I’m as caught up in her orbit as she is in mine. We’re bound together, not just by pack law or primal urges, but by something that neither of us has fully understood or explored.

In these moments, when the rest of the world fades away and it’s just us, entwined in pleasure and power, I know I am wholly, irrevocably hers as much as she is mine.

“Enough,” I murmur, the word barely a command but she hears it over the rhythm of flesh and breath. Aisling’s gaze meets mine as she releases Luka with a wet pop, anticipation shimmering in her eyes.

“Come here,” I say, voice edged with that half-growl that comes unbidden, alpha instinct riding me hard. She stands, a little unsteady on her feet—whether from desire or exertion, I can’t tell.

I take her hand, lead her to the bed while Oberon and Luka shed their remaining clothes, muscles rippling, skin flushed with arousal. My focus narrows to the omega between us, listening to me like she’ll obey my every command.

Gently, I push her down onto the mattress, the soft give of it cradling her body. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, eyes locked onto mine, heavy with something more than lust. It’s a silent question, a choice given freely despite the bond that compels her.

“Knot me, Gunnar,” she whispers, and the words strike a chord within me, resonating through my bones.

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