by Viola Rivard
“I am very sorry that I dropped you,” she said, her brow wrinkling.
“It’s no big deal,” she dismissed, waving a hand.
Brae bowed her head then, looking at Asch under thick lashes. For a moment she didn’t look like the beautiful, lithesome woman that she was, but more like a dejected pet. Asch gave a long-suffering exhale and reached out to place a hand on her head, giving her a few quick pats.
“I’m not mad at you,” he told her. “But we talked about this. You need to be more careful.”
Brae reached up and wrapped hand around his wrist. She brought his hand down to the side of her face, rubbing her cheek against him.
“I’ll be more careful. I promise.”
Mila tried not to look sullen as she watched the intimate exchange. From the way Brae had spoken of him the night before, she had gotten the impression that she knew Asch well. Mila didn’t like the way her teeth clenched and her blood heated at the sight of them. It was totally irrational. If anyone was the intruder here, it was her, not Brae.
Excising himself from Brae’s grip, Asch reached inside the basket and pulled out a crisp washcloth. He dipped it in the water and brought it to Mila’s head, dabbing lightly. The ‘scratch’ turned out to be a rather deep head wound, as evidenced when Asch drew back to rinse the now crimson cloth.
Wincing, Mila asked, “Will it scar?”
“If we bind it, maybe not,” Asch told her. “Even if it does, your hair will probably cover it anyway.”
Haughtily, she replied, “If it does scar then I’m going to skin that bastard.”
Brae seemed to think she was joking and began to laugh. She had the oddest laughter Mila had ever heard. It was somewhere between a bark and a squeal and painfully adorable. Brae covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes brightening.
“I don’t know that you could, but I would enjoy seeing you try.”
Mila grinned. “I wouldn’t underestimate me.”
“Oh no,” Brae said, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t, and I doubt anyone will now that you’ve staked your claim on Caim.”
Mila yelped just as Asch brought the cloth down on a particularly sensitive part of her wound.
“What?” She bit out.
She had not staked her claim on Caim. All they had done was had sex. Fantastic sex, but it was still just sex. And this was the very last thing she wanted to talk about while in Asch’s arms.
“We were worried when we heard that Caim had coupled with you,” Brae said. “Caim is a very aggressive partner. You seem to be okay though. Was he gentle with you?”
Mila gaped at her, sputtering. Fortunately, Asch came to her rescue.
“Brae,” he said in a warning tone. Her shoulders sagged.
“Boundaries?”
He nodded. “Boundaries.”
Mila wondered if she would ever have that level of intimacy with another person. Where just a word or a small gesture could be so potent with meaning. Her own relationships had been shallow by comparison.
“Thread the needle for me,” he told Brae.
At the word needle, Mila gripped Asch’s thick bicep, her hand clammy.
“No. Needles,” she ground out. The corners of his mouth twitched.
“There aren’t any hospitals out here,” he said patiently. “I can’t leave you with an open wound. It can get infected.”
“It’s not a wound, it’s a scratch,” she said defensively. She looked to Brae for support, but the other woman was doing a worse job of hiding her amusement than Asch.
Without much of a choice, she begrudgingly let Asch sew her up. It stung, but he was gentle and careful not to cause any undue pain. When he was done, Brae applied a sweet-smelling salve to her forehead. Her wound sufficiently doctored, Asch stood, bringing her up with him.
She looked up at him, only now remembering how large he was. Asch was every bit the alpha that Caim was, only in different ways. Where Caim’s features were roughly hewn, Asch’s were finely chiseled. Asch was sinewy and clean-cut, where Caim was brawny and hirsute. Asch was the embodiment of her every fantasy, while Caim was her darkest temptation. The realization that she thought she could handle both men made her head spin. It was impossible. In their own ways, each alpha was utterly overwhelming.
Asch brought his hands up to cup her cheeks, his eyes fixing on hers. Her heart fluttered, and for a moment she forgot that it wasn’t just the two of them in the room.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“You have nothing to apologize for.” He seemed sincere, but she didn’t trust it.
“I just wanted to talk to him about a plan Brae and I had, but things just…” Her face heated as she trailed off, unable to think of anything that didn’t sound lame. Caim had only wanted to touch her; it was she who had given him the invitation to take things further. Things hadn’t gone too far, they had gone exactly where she had wanted them to, and now she was going to have to bite the bullet.
“I know, Brae told me about it,” he said. “I think it might work.”
Mila tipped her head to the side. “You do?”
“I didn’t at first,” he clarified. “But smelling him on you doesn’t bother me as much as it should.” He lowered his voice, a slow smile spreading across his face as he dipped his head closer to hers. “Though it does make me want to cover you in my own scent.”
Her stomach clenched and a rush of heat flooded her at his candid words. Logically, Mila knew that she was in no state to consort with the sensual creature in front of her, but her brain and her body just weren’t on the same page when it came to her alphas.
Her alphas… Whoa, that was a stretch.
Asch gave her a final, lingering look, and then glanced over at Brae.
“Stay with her today. Make sure she’s alright.” He looked between the two of them. “I’ll be back later.”
He released her then. Mila swayed a little, but maintained her footing. She watched him as he left, heading for the exit of the den. She didn’t have to ask where he was going. They had a lot of things to work out and thankfully it no longer fell entirely on her. She’d let Asch handle Caim for now.
CHAPTER THREE
An oppressive mist and a heavy silence reigned over the hour before sunrise. The wolves had dispersed into the woods, taking the time away from the den to hunt for game. Last night’s hunt had been paltry, four quails and a rabbit. Deer were scarce in the valley, and would only get more so as the winter closed in on them.
In his wolf form, Asch climbed along the steep shoulder of the mountain. He could have climbed his way up to the bluff in his sleep, and some days he had. When the rest of the pack slept, he would slink away in a weary daze and scale the mountainside. On the flat plateau of the bluff, he could look down at the vast expanse of his unspoiled territory and be reminded of the great responsibility that rested on his shoulders.
Sometimes it took minutes, other times hours, before he could find the will to return to the den. On the days when he didn’t think he could, Caim was always there to drag him back down.
For Caim, his wolf was a pervading force, always alive and moving just beneath the surface of his human flesh. He let his instincts guide him in all things, and he was born knowing that he would be an alpha. The world that he had been raised in had prepared him for the harsh realities that came with ruling a pack. The isolation was easy for him to bear because he had always viewed himself as being separate from others.
It was harder for Asch, who even now, kept his wolf on a tight leash. He had repressed that part of him for so long that in his younger years he had oscillated between the denial of his wolf and a complete lack of control. It had been his inability to conform to human society that had driven him into the wilds with Caim, but after a decade of mastering his wolf, he had realized that he didn’t want to be one thing or the other. He wanted both.
Caim must have heard him coming, because he was standing on the plateau, his back turned. Asch could tell by the way he rolled his shoul
ders in an attempt to ease his discomfort that Caim had just shifted.
Asch shifted as he approached, easily slipping into his human form. He advanced slowly and gave the other male a wide berth, standing a few yards away.
He had known Caim would be here. Much like him, Caim often sought out high places when he needed to clear his mind, though for different reasons. The younger male had once told him that when his human emotions weighed heavily on him, he would go high up where the world was small. It would remind him of how eminent he was, and how insignificant everything else was by comparison.
Caim did not look very eminent today. His stance was stiff, his broad jaw locked. The only movement he made was the clenching and unclenching of his fists.
“She should have known better than to get in the way,” he recited.
“You’re right,” Asch replied. He paused for a moment, but Caim still looked agitated. He added, “She’s okay, though it might scar.”
“I do not care.”
Asch suppressed a grin, wanting to bait him further. He let the moment pass though, knowing they had more serious things to discuss.
“I’ll tell you what I told Brae. You’re gonna have to be patient and careful with her. She’s not a wolf. This is all new to her. You know what the world she comes from is like.”
Asch wondered how much of his time in Halifax, Caim remembered. Caim had been fourteen then, and on the verge of being feral. Even once the rage inside of him had quelled, Caim still obstinately rejected any attempts to humanize him.
He had hated everything.
He hated wearing shoes, he hated using a fork, he hated taking a bath, and above all, he hated having to follow rules. Even as Asch had aided his mother in trying to reform Caim, he had admired Caim’s tenacity, envied his conviction.
Caim was a wolf. He knew it with absolute certainty and no one could take that away from him.
They were silent for a while. Asch let his words sink in as they both looked out across the misty valley.
Finally, Caim said, “She means to share us.” He looked over to Asch then, his expression pensive.
“We have to try. It’s for the good of the pack.”
“What if I do not want to share her?”
“Then I’ll fight you for her,” Asch replied tightly.
“You would cast aside the years that we have been pack for a human you just met?”
Asch knew that Caim was just being petulant now. When the time came, Caim would fight for her too, whether he wanted to or not.
He considered his next words, trying to figure out how to explain a part of himself that he was only just beginning to understand.
“You’re three years younger than me. You may be big and you may be an alpha, but I doubt you’ve felt it like I have. The pull to take a mate… it’s all-consuming. The instinct may not be strong in you now, but maybe in a few years you’ll get it.”
It was the only way he could describe it so that Caim may be able to understand. He couldn’t tell Caim how he longed for human companionship, someone who understood the human part of him but accepted the wolf in him too. It was what he had been searching for his entire life.
“I will not,” Caim responded. “I will have Mila.”
Asch looked over at him, lips parted.
Caim shrugged and then said, “We will have Mila.”
~~~
Morning light filled Mila’s bedroom, reflecting off of the shaky, silver plate. She smacked her lips together, feeling around on the bed for her mascara while swiping at the corners of her mouth. In her experience, there were no self-esteem issues that an eight-hour lipstick, pore-refining toner, and volumizing mascara could not solve.
Brae peeked from behind the plate. Her mouth fell open.
“Mila,” she gasped. “You were right. Makeup does make you beautiful.”
Mila reached up to steady the dinner plate, which was acting as her makeshift mirror. She pursed her lips at the wolf.
“I’m going to take that as a compliment, now keep that plate still,” she chided.
Mila’s makeup had its work cut out for it today. Her self-esteem, which typically hovered between Queen Bee and Mistress of the Universe, had plummeted to an all-time low. Between Caim’s complete disregard for her well-being and spending the day with the obscenely beautiful and nauseatingly loveable Brae, Mila would have happily crawled in a hole and stayed there for oh, a decade or so.
After Asch had left, Mila had helped Brae clean up the supplies. Although she had already bathed earlier in the night, she had insisted on returning to the river to wash up, determined to rid her flesh of any traces of Caim. She had thoroughly scrubbed herself, but no amount of cleaning could remove the marks he’d left on her flesh and the persistent ache between her thighs.
The plate wobbled again, causing her reflection to become distorted. Brae was peeking out from the side again.
“Do you think I could wear some of your makeup?”
Mila gave her a dry look, reaching over to angle the plate. “No way,” she said, waving her mascara wand. “If the guys see you in this, they’ll never look twice at me again.”
Brae looked like she was about to respond, but stopped short. She set the plate in her lap, sniffing at the air. Her expression immediately soured. Mila sniffed the air as well, and when she could detect nothing foul, sniffed herself sheepishly. She didn’t smell bad. In fact, she smelled incredible. Like earth, and pine, and… Caim.
She growled then—actually growled—before falling back on the bed in a huff. Brae ignored her theatrics, her eyes narrowed. Mila followed her gaze to the doorway as the flap was drawn back and a familiar woman entered, carrying a high stack of folded clothes. Her auburn hair was knotted into a thick braid and tied with a lavender ribbon, but Mila recognized her as the hostile female who had brought her food the day before.
She let herself in, striding over to the cot and dropping the pile of clothes on the floor in front of Mila, who sat up.
With a sweeping wave of her hand, she announced, “These are all too big for me. I am certain they will fit you well, for now.”
Her pea green eyes were rounded and unblinking as she looked to Mila expectantly.
“Uh, thanks,” Mila said, shifting uncomfortably under the woman’s gaze. She had an oval-shaped face with pouty lips, and the bridge of her nose was dotted with tan freckles. She wasn’t the bombshell that Brae was, but she had her own look that many men would probably find attractive.
Averting her eyes from the unnerving stare, Mila glanced down at the pile of clothes. One piece immediately caught her eye. She yanked a peach nightgown from the pile, scrutinizing the floral stitching on the bodice.
“This is…” she reached inside to pull up the tag, “Couture.” She closed her eyes, rubbing the gown over her chest. “Oh my god, it’s chiffon.”
“I have jewelry too, and hair pieces. You may borrow them whenever you like.”
Mila opened her eyes and, with considerable effort, fixed the woman with an even gaze.
“Who are you, and why are you being so nice to me? Did Asch put you up to this?”
“You may call me Rosie, and I am here because of Caim.”
“Caim sent you?” Mila asked, hating the way her stomach flipped at the thought.
“He did not order me to come. I came because I wanted to express my gratitude to you.”
Mila frowned. “Gratitude for what?”
“For accepting Caim as the superior alpha of our pack,” she said, helping herself to a seat beside Mila. Brae snorted and moved farther back on the bed, distancing herself from the intruder.
Giving her a dry look, Mila said, “Sorry to burst your bubble, but the only thing Caim is, is a superior asshole.”
Her brows furrowed. “I do not understand. You went to Caim and pleaded that he stake his claim on you. Are you upset that he injured you? You really shouldn’t have gotten in the—”
“Wait, what?” She folded her arms beneath
her chest. “Who said that I did that?”
“Caim did. He told us all, before he challenged Asch.”
Mila snapped her head over the Brae. She hissed, “Why didn’t you tell me he said that?”
“I didn’t want to upset you,” she offered, chewing her lip.
Mila slumped, putting her face in her hands. She took a breath, and then another, letting herself calm down.
He was such an exhausting male.
“Is this not true?” Rosie asked, her voice raised in alarm.
“Yes? No? Ugh, I don’t know.”
“Mila is accepting the claim of both of our alphas,” Brae explained.
Mila looked up in time to see Rosie shake her head.
“I do not understand.”
Without much enthusiasm, Mila explained her plan to let both of the alphas take her as a mate. She realized that no matter how many times she went over the idea, either in her head or aloud, it still seemed very whimsical.
It was easy to say that she planned on letting both men claim her, but she couldn’t actually imagine herself doing it. Even if they managed not to bite each other’s head’s off, how could she possibly please both men? Every ménage à trois she had ever heard of was between two girls and a guy. To her, that route seemed much more logistically sound.
Rosie chewed on the inside of her cheek. She gave a quick nod when Mila finished, but didn’t seem overly impressed.
“Perhaps Asch would be willing to share his mate,” she said. “Caim, however, is a true alpha, and would never share you.”
Mila deflated a little, wondering if she was right. Caim had flat-out told her that he would kill Asch for her, and instead of exploring that further, they had just had torrid sex instead. Real problem-solver she was.
“I don’t know, we’ll just have to make it work,” Mila said wearily. She was so done with discussing her bizarre sex life. “Unzip me, will you Brae?”
Brae moved across the bed and helped Mila out of her dress. In the spirit of ‘fake it ‘til you make it’ she acted as though she was completely unbothered by changing in front of the two women. Once she was free of the tattered garment, she chucked it on the floor.