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Worth it, though.
For this exact moment. When her pure, unadulterated happiness lights up my soul. Good morning, she thinks, Bear.
Her name for me floats through my chest, brushing my heart. So soft. Like a butterfly landing on a branch. The flap of her colorful wings. A flit of devotion.
Never intrusive. Just enough to remind me: I’m not alone.
I hold her closer, completely content. Happy birthday, butterfly.
She’s doing this on purpose.
Pictures flit through my mind. Cassian’s hands, working her nightgown off. The view of her bare body in the morning light. The way her thighs part to let him slide between.
I’ve corrupted you, I send back, every word saturated with satisfaction. Tell Cass to save room for breakfast.
She bats back a flicker of impish delight and the image of her knees parting wider. Whatever you say, Trouble.
I grin, figuring this is retaliation I deserve, after the way I’ve tiptoed around the bond all morning. She knows I’m up to no good and feels inspired to make a little mischief of her own.
Naughty, pretty girl.
Her answering laughter gives my insides a glow. I chuckle, too, closing the mental curtain up and turning back to her birthday brunch. Seeing that it’s almost done, I send Cass a hard nudge. Dude, you have five minutes.
He laughs, smug, offering a brief-but-glorious glimpse of our omega, all laid out for him. I only need three.
Smith and I both glower at him and at each other. We know.
The Bear Formerly Known As Beast is true to his word. Less than five minutes later, he has her propped up against his naked chest, holding her with one arm around her waist.
She put her nightgown back on, but that’s probably for the best.
I won’t be able to sing Happy Birthday on key if my cock is out.
Smith walks in first, carrying her breakfast tray and the small vase of flowers he chose for her. He also decorated her platter with seashells he collected and cleaned. I come in last, carting the three-tiered pumpkin-spice cake I made, walking slowly, so I don’t extinguish her birthday candles.
Remi’s golden-blue eyes fill, her bare, beautiful face reflecting all the awe and gratitude flooding her center. We all sing to her—even her grumbly bear—laying the trays carefully over her lap and her knees.
She sways and blinks, crystal tears trickling down her cheeks while she blows out the candles. Her fingers float up to touch the wings of the tissue-paper butterflies Cassian insisted we use as decoration.
I spread them up one side of the cake, their blue wings gradually lifting higher off the light pink icing. All the way up to the one single piece on the top, which looks like it’s taking flight.
Just like you, I think to her. Just like all of us since we found you.
Remi strokes over the thin wing and whispers, “It’s perfect.”
Smith pets her hair, purring for her. “You’re perfect,” he corrects. “But Damon’s cake is pretty damn good.”
Cassian nuzzles at her hair. “We got you a present, too.”
Smith has been holding onto it, but he must know how much it means to me, because he hands it to me to pass to our omega. “Here, sweetness.”
Remi takes the small box, turning it in her hands with an adorable look of suspicion on her face. “You guys already got me a gift. It’s in the driveway—remember?”
We feel her irony in the bond. She’s kidding; because of course, no one would ever forget her custom powder-blue Mercedes SUV. Specifically designed to fit all of us, with room for more. Smith surprised her with it a few days ago when we were packing up to come to the beach.
“This one is special,” I murmur, resisting the urge to bounce impatiently. “Open it.”
She smiles, shaking her head in a totally bogus chastisement. I can tell she doesn’t really mean it because she immediately starts ripping the paper off.
