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“Never again, baby,” Jonah murmurs, holding me closer, his heft growing more rigid inside me, letting me feel him. “Never.”
I burrow into his neck, kissing my claiming mark. I don’t need to see his face to know he’s smiling—I can feel the joy swoop through his chest. It echoes in my own, bringing my tiny purr out for him.
He loves that. His cock hardens as he moans into my hair, nuzzling his cheek against my forehead to leave his scent-mark behind.
Instead of speaking, he gives me a moment to adjust, working through my hazy memories and the twirl of giddy happiness braided into them. I feel him listening, caring about every little thought as if it’s vital. When he sees flickers from my dreams, he grins again.
“You dreamed about our garden a lot, hummingbird. We’ll take you out there as soon as you have your strength back. Maybe a picnic?”
I rub my own scent between his pecs, smiling as I admit, “I wasn’t dreaming about the garden, I think. It was… you guys.”
For a long beat, confusion clangs in his head. With a sigh and a pinch of embarrassment, I do my best to show him what I mean instead of telling him. Taking his hand and leading him, metaphorically, down into my bond.
Our bond.
To me, it is a garden. I’ve heard central bonds described as a room with doors to each alpha, but mine feels more like a little patch of peaceful grass. An oasis, with gates for each of them to come to when they need me or want to cross through to one another.
It’s more than that, though. The way they each make me feel—they’ve grown me. From a tiny, broken seed into something too fierce to be a flower and too soft to form thorns. I’m somewhere in the middle—maybe even something I don’t quite know yet.
But I know that Spencer is my rain. Steady and cool, nourishing me with every drop of praise and every bit of knowledge. He can be stormy—or gentle. And I love him either way.
Avery is the wind, whipping around me in a whirl of chaos and color. And then, sometimes, whispering to me in the sweetest ways. Bringing me things I never thought I’d want or need. Carrying pieces of me off to plant them far away, in the unknown. Always keeping me guessing which direction we’re going in.
There’s joy in that mystery and beauty in the trust it takes to enjoy it. He and I both have that.
Jonah and I have a similar sort of happiness; only the type we share is brighter. Warmer. He’s my sunshine—so constant and vital. The steady, vibrant heat that encourages growth. There every day, no matter what.
Tristan is just as consistent in his own way. Like roots and soil. Anchoring all of us, protecting the parts of me I don’t want anyone else to see. Letting me slice through him if it means I can flourish. Giving and giving—because that’s who he is.
Jonah listens while I try to explain without words, his head finally turning to look at our pack leader. He’s stretched out, asleep, with his arm thrown over his face.
My big man’s chest rumbles deeper. “I wanted to talk to you. About that.”
But he’s… embarrassed? It’s such an odd feeling, coming from my most easy-going alpha. I let it flow through our bond, anyway, wanting to listen to him as attentively as he does for me.
I feel Avery and Spencer starting to stir, but that doesn’t seem to bother Jo. He wants them to hear, too, I think. It’s just easier to pretend I’m the only one paying attention.
He shows me what it’s been like this season, preparing to play for the fifteenth year in a row. How he didn’t ever want to stop because it felt like football was all he had—all he was.
Until me.
“Over the last few days, I’ve realized how much purpose you’ve brought to our pack. To me. And I think I want to retire. To be home. With you.”
It would help Tris, too. That’s why he’s bringing it up now. He felt me worrying about my senator alpha and all the weight on his shoulders. If Jonah is willing to take on more of our pack business so Tristan doesn’t have to carry as much…
“Are you sure?” I ask, peering up at his wide, handsome features, touching his face. “Won’t you be bored?”
He grins and shakes his head, showing me memories through the bond—the days he spent building our garden, hours cuddling me on our couch to treat my touch starvation, evenings in the kitchen.
And along with every single image? A burst of true, deep satisfaction. Of purpose.
We make him happy.
A hand claps around Jonah’s shoulder, squeezing. I’m shocked when I find Spencer at the other end of it, staring at his best friend with solemn appreciation in his gaze. “This is an inspired idea.”
Avery shuffles over next, smiling crookedly as he presses a kiss to my bare shoulder. “Yeah, Jonah, you’re old as dirt anyway. Time to pack it in.”
“Fuck off, kid,” Jo chuckles, “I still fucked you under the table at least five times this week.”
