Page 110 of Bound By Alphas 1: Bound

The sound vibrated through his chest into mine, sending a jolt of heat straight to my core. I rocked against him shamelessly, feeling his grip tighten to the point of pain. Good. I wanted it to hurt. Wanted the physical pain to match the emotional agony tearing me apart.

“Fuck, Finn,” he hissed, his steps faltering as I sucked a mark into his skin. “If you don’t stop that, we’re not making it to the studio.”

“Then don’t stop,” I challenged, grinding against him again, feeling his control slip further.

He slammed me against the nearest wall, pinning me there with his body, his mouth crashing down on mine with bruising force. This wasn’t the playful Keir I knew—this was something wilder, more dangerous. The wolf breaking through.

Perfect. This was what I wanted—needed. Raw, primal connection that bypassed duty and obligation, that existed in a realm of pure sensation.

When he finally pulled away, his eyes had shifted partially, blue irises ringed with supernatural silver. “Studio,” he growled, the word barely human. “Now.”

He carried me through the hallway at a pace just shy of running, my body bouncing against his with each step. I didn’t care who might see us—what did dignity matter now? I kept my mouth on whatever skin I could reach, leaving marks that would fade too quickly on his supernatural body but gave me satisfaction nonetheless.

As we approached my studio, I spotted movement from two different directions. Cade emerged from the library, hisexpression shifting from concern to something darker when he saw me wrapped around Keir, both of us disheveled and clearly aroused. Logan appeared from the direction of the gym, still drying his hair with a small towel, his nostrils flaring as he caught our scent.

I didn’t need a pack bond to know Keir had summoned them or to recognize the hunger that immediately darkened their eyes. The mate bond responding to my desperate need, compelling them to fulfill their duty.

The thought should have doused my desire like ice water. Instead, it fueled a reckless determination to take everything I could from this last encounter. If duty was all I could have, I would wring every drop of pleasure from it.

The studio sitting room was my favorite space in the entire mansion—a comfortable extension of my workspace with floor-to-ceiling windows that captured the perfect north light. A plush sectional sofa dominated one corner, positioned to enjoy both the ocean view and the fireplace. I’d fallen asleep there countless times, paintbrush still in hand, only to wake with a blanket tucked around me and a fresh cup of coffee waiting.

Tonight, it would serve a different purpose. My last night with them. My final memory to take with me when I left.

As Keir carried me through the doorway, I forced my expression into something less desperate, less needy. Pride was a luxury I couldn’t afford to completely abandon, even now. I would take my pleasure, would memorize every moment, but wouldn’t let them see how thoroughly they’d broken me.

If this was all I could have—their bodies without their hearts—I would take it. I would savor it. I would make it last.

Even knowing it was just duty to them.

The studio was bathed in that perfect northern light I’d always loved—the kind that reveals everything in its true form,without shadows to hide imperfections or harsh glare to distort. As an artist, I knew no filter could improve what it showed.

How fitting that my last time with them would be in this unforgiving illumination. No shadows to hide behind. No soft focus to blur the truth. Just clarity—painful, perfect clarity.

Keir set me down on the oversized sectional with less gentleness than usual, his control clearly fraying under my earlier assault. The soft leather was cool against my heated skin, a stark contrast to the burning need coursing through me.

“You’re thinking too much,” Keir murmured, his voice rough as he loomed over me. “I can see it in your eyes.”

Before I could respond, the studio door opened again. Cade entered first, his presence immediately filling the space, followed closely by Logan, whose intense gaze never left my face. They moved with the synchronized grace of predators who had hunted together for years, circling the sectional until I was surrounded.

“Hi,” I said lamely, suddenly self-conscious under their collective attention despite my earlier boldness. “Fancy meeting you guys here.”

Logan’s laugh was a low rumble as he dropped onto the sofa beside me, close enough that his thigh pressed against mine. “Keir said you wanted us.” His voice dropped to that register that always made my insides liquify. “All of us.”

I swallowed hard, my earlier desperation momentarily giving way to nervousness. These weren’t the playful lovers of the past month. Something in my behavior had triggered a more primal response, their postures more dominant, their eyes sharper.

“I did. I do,” I managed, my voice steadier than I expected.

“Why here?” Cade asked, remaining standing, his eyes taking in the studio space. “Of all the places in the house…”

“The light,” I answered honestly, gesturing to the windows. “It shows everything exactly as it is. No hiding.”

And I wanted to see everything. Wanted to memorize every detail, every expression, every moment of this last time together. If all I could have was their bodies without their hearts, I would make sure the memory was perfect.

Keir’s smile turned predatory as he began unbuttoning his shirt. “Our little artist wants to study his subjects.”

I should have had a witty comeback. Something snarky about their egos or their exhibitionist tendencies. Instead, I watched in helpless fascination as three pairs of hands removed clothing with almost violent impatience, buttons popping, fabric tearing in their haste to bare skin.

They were beautiful. There was no other word for it. Three variations on the theme of perfection, each unique yet complementary. Cade, all controlled power and aristocratic lines. Logan, raw strength and battle-honed muscle. Keir, lithe elegance with hidden strength. In that perfect northern light, they looked like classical sculptures come to life—Michelangelo’s finest work made flesh and blood and heat.

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