Page 91 of Reaper's Pack

Knox had just been biding his time.

Letting his pack feast first for once.

He wasn’t passive—he never would be.

And I’d never fully be in control with him, no matter what he let me do to him, how he let me kiss him…

I let out a startled cry at his sudden ferocity, at the way he hooked his hands under my knees and lifted me, spread me open for him. The shifting angle allowed him to plunge deeper. Trapped in place, I threw one arm around his neck, while my free hand clung to his shoulder. His first thrust was brutal, verging on violent—and I fucking loved it.

“Kn-nox,” I whimpered breathlessly, digging my nails hard into his flesh and wishing I could mark him up like he had me. He snarled back, teeth to my neck, pounding into me with the force of a late-summer storm, the kind that felled trees and tore shingles from rooftops. After Gunnar and Declan, my body ached, the pain almost pleasant, but when Knox was through with me, I wasn’t sure when I’d be able to stand again.

Even the island struggled to keep up with him, the wood creaking, the quartz groaning, all of it threatening to crack right down the middle the harder he drove into me. He should have frightened me, but I found myself whispering, begging, for him to go harder, faster, deeper—take me. And Knox complied. Vigorously. In fact, this felt like one of the few things we had ever agreed on.

My third climax came like an explosion, sudden and vicious, destructive in the best way. I cried out in his arms, scoring my teeth across his rugged pectoral and teetering on the verge of a breakdown. Pleasure had me seeing stars, stars that snapped and burned behind my closed lids, Knox’s name spilling from my lips over and over again until he stilled. Unyielding as my scythe, the alpha stuttered to a halt against me, buried deep inside, practically slamming me through the island, and his body trembled as he spilled himself inside me. Buried against my neck, his mouth hovered over the mark he had made this morning, and the bloody scars left by Gunnar and Declan tingled—as if sensing a kindred spirit.

It was only when Knox eased out of me and carefully set my feet on the ground that I broke. My knees buckled, my hands flailed out for the counter, and the alpha caught me before I hit the floor. Silently, he scooped me up and set me back on the island, my chin dropped to my chest; I just didn’t possess the strength to lift it anymore, everything inside totally liquified. Moments later, something warm and soft slipped over my head, and I vaguely felt someone maneuvering my arms through sleeves.

Knox’s black jumper was far too big for me—it was practically a dress. But it smelled like him. It enveloped me in the softest hug. I never wanted to take it off, but it wasn’t enough to stop me from shivering. Even my teeth chattered, the lack of hellhound skin contact leaving me cold, well and truly freezing, for the first time since I had returned to the human realm like this—dead yet not, my touch frigid and my heartbeat slow.

Gunnar stepped in with his trousers, both him and Knox manhandling me, sliding the luxe material up my legs. I tried to protest, insisting that I’d ruin them, stain them with what was dripping out of me, but that seemed like the furthest thing from anyone’s mind—so I let it go. As soon as Knox gathered my hair and arranged it over my shoulders, keeping the wisps away from my face, Declan materialized out of nowhere in front of me with a mug of tea in hand. Steam spiraled off the surface, a little string hanging over the side of the cup.

I accepted the drink with a tired smile and wrapped both hands around it, the sleeves of Knox’s jumper covering my palms and muffling the burn. Earl Grey with a splash of milk and sugar—a favorite that had followed me into the afterlife.

“You all right, sweet?” Declan asked, his hand on my knee. The pack hovered around me like they never would have at the start of all this, directly in my personal bubble, either touching me or within an inch of it. Exhausted, sore, satisfied, and a little dazed, I struggled to find the words to answer—but I knew what I wanted: to dive into a pile of hellhounds, all of us snoozing on top of each other, just like they had been the first time I set eyes on them.

But this would do for now. Three gorgeous, naked, sweaty, muscly men eyeing me warily, waiting with bated breath for a response.

They certainly knew how to make a girl feel wanted.

After a tentative sip, finding the tea much too hot but delicious all the same, I nodded. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?” To my right, Gunnar watched on with a furrowed brow, arms crossed and a dribble of my gold blood on his chin. Blowing on my tea, I wiped the ichor away with my thumb. Of the trio, Gunnar was somehow the most vocal lover, someone to set the pace, lead the way—and I appreciated that about him. He was an instigator, and given I had never done this before with more than one man, I needed someone like that.

“I think so,” I managed. Knox curled his arm around my hips, my butt, and I leaned into the embrace with a weary sigh. Everything still felt full—most of all, my heart. Having them all so close to me in the aftermath, my body experiencing sensations I hadn’t since I was alive, taking in the concern in their eyes, the affection… It was a lot to process.

And yet my mind was blissfully empty for the first time all day, like I already knew the answer to every question, comment, and concern from my nagging inner monologue.

My vision blurred, only clearing when I blinked sluggishly and sniffled, refusing to let a single tear fall.

“Is this how it’s supposed to feel?” I asked hoarsely. Gunnar’s frown deepened, and Declan moved closer, standing between my knees and stroking the tops of my legs with his thumbs.

“What do you mean, sweet?”

“I mean… being fated,” I managed, fighting for every word, my body suddenly craving sleep—with all three of them around me. “I feel… whole. Is this… how it’s supposed to feel?”

Gunnar’s expression lifted as he exchanged a quick glance with a grinning Declan, and Knox cleared his throat, holding me just a little tighter.

“Can’t tell you, reaper,” he insisted, his tone gruff as always—but a little light twinkling in those midnight-black eyes. “This is the first time we’ve been fated to anyone.”

I risked another sip of my tea as Declan murmured, “But it feels right, doesn’t it? Like this is how it was always meant to be?”

The drink scorched down my throat, burned my tongue, and I didn’t care. If the pack continued to look at me like they did right now, every day, for the rest of our days, I honestly wouldn’t care about anything ever again.

“Yeah,” I said softly. Gunnar swooped a rogue lock of white behind my ear, smirking.

“Then… yes, I think this is how it’s supposed to feel.”

Only one little thought worried me. “Is that how you guys feel too?”

---