Page 138 of Stream Heat
“Now,” he murmured, his voice like a low drumbeat in my chest. “You’re not going anywhere. You can just… be here.”
The knot pulsed, and he rolled his hips in small, deliberate circles that dragged heat through my core in slow waves. His scent wrapped tighter around me, coating my skin from the inside out.
“Come again for me,” he coaxed, his thumb brushing my clit with gentle, steady pressure. “Let the knot feel you.”
The second orgasm was slower, deeper, a long, shivering release that left me trembling in his arms. My inner wallsclutched hard around the knot, and that was all it took to finally push him over.
His breath hitched, hips pressing flush as his rhythm shattered. The knot swelled even fuller, pulsing hard as he groaned against my throat, spilling deep inside me. The sound was low, raw, and threaded with satisfaction.
He stayed buried, chest heaving, the thick heat of his release locked in place by the knot’s seal. His hand stroked my back in slow passes, scent curling protective and warm around both of us.
“That’s what I give you,” he murmured once his breathing steadied. “Not just this moment. All of them.”
And with his knot anchoring me, his scent saturating my skin, and the bond humming steady between us, I knew he meant every word.
Sunlight crawled across the mat, turning us gold and shadow. The bonds in my chest were different now, each one alive in its own way.
I wanted to laugh. I wanted to cry. I wanted to freeze time.
Because the pack wasn’t just assembled, it was complete. I had chosen this, all of it, not because I had needed any of them to survive, but because I wanted to be bigger. More. The sum and the parts, all at once.
The circle was whole.
So was I.
CHAPTER FORTY
Kara
I woke up alone after my nap, but the room was thick with the scent of five different Alphas, layered on my skin like fingerprints I’d never quite wash off. Malik’s was the strongest right now, sandalwood and sage, earthy and insistent, the newest mark settling into my body, overlaying the others but not erasing them. My hand drifted to the crook of my elbow. His claim throbbed there, a low pulse that didn’t hurt, exactly, but left no doubt that I belonged to him. To all of them.
Five bonds. Five claims. Five different cords, all pulling in slightly different directions but somehow holding me together.
I stretched, careful not to jostle any tender spots. For the first time since the suppressants stopped working, I actually felt like I fit inside my own skin. The twitchy shakes that used to run under my flesh were almost gone, and the constant anxiety was pushed so far into the background that I almost forgot it was there. Dr. Levine had called it. The pack’s presence was stabilizing the mess my system became when I was forced off my suppressants, and they were doing it better than any doctor or prescription ever managed.
Someone had left tea on my nightstand, steam still curling into the air in gentle spirals. Next to it, a folded note:
Rest. Recover. I’ll be back with food later.
Malik’s handwriting was clean, precise. I smiled, picked up the mug, breathed in the sharp herbal scent of one of his weird blends. I should have been used to the care by now, but it still caught me off guard. For so long, it had just been me against the world. Now there were five people who anticipated my needs before I even knew I had them, and sometimes that felt like more than I deserved.
I sipped, let the heat settle in my chest, and listened. The house was quiet. No Theo hollering down the hallway or breaking into song from the kitchen. No Jace’s careful steps, always mindful of how sound carried. No Ash cursing at equipment in the garage. No Reid’s clipped instructions drifting in from the living room. No Malik’s steady, grounded voice guiding meditation or dropping dry commentary at the breakfast table.
Just me. Alone.
A few months ago that realization would have clawed panic up my throat, set my brain spinning with old fears of being left behind. Now? I just felt calm. The bonds were still there, humming underneath my skin. I wasn’t alone, not really. I couldn’t be, not with their marks woven into my body, not with my scent wound tight around theirs.
My phone pinged. Probably one of them, checking in. They didn’t know how to let go, not really; space was always bracketed by little reminders that they were thinking of me. But the notification wasn’t a text, not even close.
BREAKING: Platform Executives Scrambling After Pack Wrecked Claiming Incident
For a second, my heart stopped. Then I remembered, the stream, Reid’s claiming bite, the way my body had gone limp into his hands right there on camera. Everything that came after had been a blur of new bonds, recovery, and trying not to trip over my own feet, but yeah. Millions of people had seen that moment.
I clicked the link with numb fingers. The headline hit like a slap across the face.
LIVE CLAIMING BITE CREATES PR NIGHTMARE/GOLDMINE FOR STREAMING PLATFORM
I skimmed fast, eyes catching on phrases as adrenaline sharpened my mind:
