Page 128 of Down Knot Out
True to his word, by the time Nathaniel’s knot recedes, my Heat surges, stronger than before. My skin burns, sensitive to the slightest touch. Everynerve ending screams for contact, for pressure, for relief from the building tension.
Dominic guides me through the next wave, his hands steady despite the hunger in his eyes. He arranges me on my side, one leg hooked over his arm as he slides into me from behind. The position lets him control the pace while Blake cradles my head in his lap, fingers massaging my scalp.
“Breathe through it.” Dominic’s hips establish a rhythm that sways our bodies together. “Focus on the pleasure, not the need.”
I try to follow his direction, but Heat consumes rational thought, reducing me to base instinct. My fingers dig into his forearm, nails leaving half-moon impressions in his skin as I hold on.
Holden returns with more ice, this time running a cube across my collarbone, down between my breasts, across my belly. I gasp at the shock of cold on my burning skin, my body arching into the sensation.
Holden pauses with the ice hovering above my skin. “Too much?”
“No,” I pant. “More. Please.”
He continues his ministrations, tracing patterns of cold across my overheated flesh while Dominic thrusts into me. The contrast of ice and fire, ofgentle and firm, twist together, heightening every touch.
Blake bends to kiss me, his lips soft on mine.
Dominic growls as his hips snap flush to my ass, Nathaniel watching with hunger building in his eyes again.
Dominic’s knot swells, locking us together as another orgasm rips through me, resonating through all four bonds at once like a chord struck on perfectly tuned strings.
“Feel that?” Dominic grinds his hips against mine. “That’s your pack. All of us, inside you, connected.”
I do, the symphony of bonds vibrating in harmony, each one distinct yet part of a greater whole.
In this moment, surrounded by the scents and sounds and touches of my Alphas, the world beyond this room ceases to exist. There are no publishers or Sinclairs or uncertainties, only this, only us, bound together with a bond that can only be broken in death.
Morning light filters through the curtains, painting stripes of gold across the wreckage of the nest. Mybody feels heavy, used in ways both wonderful and overwhelming, every muscle singing with sweet aches that remind me of the past three days.
I blink slowly, the fever of Heat broken.
Taking inventory of my body and sluggish limbs, I find myself gloriously sore but clear-headed for the first time since Blake’s lips first touched mine.
The bonds pulse steadily inside me, and I touch my breast over my heart, reveling in the sense of completeness. My fingers trail upward to the roughness of the Marks, four distinct bites decorating my throat that are more precious than diamonds.
As Blake promised, I will never again be alone.
He lies curled behind me, his broad chest rising and falling against my back with each breath. His arm circles my waist, fingers splayed across my stomach even in sleep. His beard grazes my shoulder, tickling the healing Mark he left.
Nathaniel presses to my front, one long leg thrown over mine and hooked around Blake’s calf. In sleep, the usual stern lines of his face are softened, and he appears younger, more vulnerable. His lips rest on my shoulder, not quite a kiss but a point of connection even while unconscious.
My body tingles as hazy memories rise of the two Alphas taking me together one last time before we passed out, and my stomach tightens under Blake’s palm.
Dominic’s hand drapes over my calf, his body a warm weight near my feet. He sleeps on his stomach, face half-buried in a pillow, black hair falling across his forehead in stark contrast to the white fabric.
Movement draws my attention upward. Holden stands beside the nest, a water bottle in one hand and a plate of food in the other.
His curls stick up at odd angles, and dark circles rim his eyes, but his smile warms me from the inside out. “Hey, you’re back with us.”
I try to speak, but my throat is scraped raw from three days of crying out. I swallow and try again. “Hey, I’m back.”
Blake stirs, his arm tightening around my waist. Through our bond, I sense his consciousness rising from sleep, concern threading through the connection as he registers my discomfort.
Holden sets the plate on the bedside table and unscrews the cap from the water bottle. He kneels to slide a hand beneath my head, supporting me as he brings the bottle to my lips.
“Small sips.” He tilts the bottle carefully.
The water soothes my abused throat, cool and clean. I drink until Holden pulls the bottle away, his thumb wiping a stray droplet from my bottom lip.
