Page 116 of A Pack for the Wedding
"Obviouslyit's working—"
Arthur grips my hips and takes over, driving up into me with a force that makes the headboard hit the wall. The change in pace turns me incoherent. Every thrust has his name falling out of my mouth like a prayer.
"Arthur—Arthur—Arthur—"
"I know, beautiful." He sounds as wrecked as I feel. "I've got you. Let go."
Knox's thumb presses harder, Mason's teeth graze my shoulder and Arthur buries himself to the hilt. He groans, his knot locking inside me and everything goes supernova.
This orgasm isn't a wave. It's a detonation. My entire body seizes. I can't see. I can't breathe. I'm making sounds that aren't words. Arthur is holding me so tight I can feel his heartbeat and his release is hot and endless inside me.
When the world comes back, I'm collapsed against Arthur's chest, still locked together, and I'm crying. Shoulders shaking, face buried in his neck, tears soaking his skin.
"Beth?" Three voices. Three levels of alarm.
"I'm fine." I hiccup. "I'm—this is normal. Everything's just somuch—"
Arthur's arms tighten around me. Mason's hand finds my back. Knox presses his forehead to my shoulder.
"Happy tears?" Arthur asks.
I nod into his neck. "Happy tears."
"Good." His lips find my temple. "Because you just scared the shit out of me."
I laugh through the tears. "Say hi to my omega. She's a nightmare."
"I'd call her a miracle," Mason says quietly.
I lift my head and look at all three of them. This feels an awful lot like belonging.
40
Beth
The nest is warm, wrecked and perfect.
Blanket walls are half-collapsed on one side where someone rolled into them, and the air is so thick with layered scent that breathing feels like drinking an aphrodisiac.
Mason is behind me, one arm heavy across my waist, his breath slow and even against the back of my neck. Knox is on my other side, face half-buried in a pillow, one hand loosely curled around my wrist. Arthur is at my feet, lying on his stomach with his cheek against the wool blanket and one hand resting on my ankle.
They're asleep. All three of them.
And I am lucid.
Not the desperate, drowning lucidity of someone surfacing between waves. This is different. This is a clearing. The heat is still there but my mind is mine. My thoughts are in order. I know my name and what day it is and who won the last season of Hell's Kitchen.
I also know exactly what I want.
I've known since before the heat. Maybe since that night back at the clearing.
I've known.
My hand finds Mason's arm. I squeeze, gently.
He wakes up like someone flipping a switch. Alert, scanning, his arm tightening around me before his brain catches up with his body.
"Beth?" His voice is rough with sleep. "You okay? Heat coming back?"
