Page 45 of Talk Howly to Me

"I'm going to come," she warned, her voice strained. "You need to mark me. Now."

Ronan's features tightened and a low growl rumbled in his chest, and she saw his canines begin to elongate, sharp and white. Behind her, she felt the same change in Kozue, the scrape of elongating teeth against the sensitive skin of her shoulder. Then their thrusts turned primal, losing the last vestiges of restraint, driving into her in perfect unison with deep, penetrating strokes that finally, irrevocably, shattered her.

Her orgasm detonated, but it wasn't a wave, it was a supernova, exploding outward from her core with violent, blinding force. Her body bowed between them, and a silent scream locked in her throat as convulsions wracked her.

In that exact moment of peak vulnerability, she felt twin points of sharp pressure at the curve where her neck met her shoulder—one on the left, one on the right. Then a jolt of pure, electrifying sensation shot through her, a brilliant mix of pleasure and pain that tore a second climax from her body immediately on the heels of the first. This one was deeper, hotter, as if the claiming itself had triggered something fundamental within her soul. Her body went rigid, every muscle locked, before flooding with a warmth so profound it felt like liquid sunlight was pouring directly into her veins.

She collapsed forward, shuddering violently, her forehead pressed to Ronan's sweat-slicked chest. Her undoing triggered theirs. They thrust into her one final, devastating time, and she felt them both pulse deep inside her, flooding her with their release as their own orgasms ripped through them. Their large bodies shuddered around her, their groans of completion mingling with her ragged breath.

For long minutes, they stayed locked together, a tangled, sweaty, sated heap on the wide bed as the aftershocks slowly subsided. Their harsh breathing gradually evened out, and then, impossibly, Sloane felt it—their three heartbeats, separate at first, began to slow and sync into one powerful, steady rhythm.

As the haze of physical ecstasy began to clear, a new awareness settled into the space it left behind. It felt like a key turning in a lock deep in her soul, like the final piece of a puzzle clicking into perfect, undeniable place. The triad mate bond wasn't just a connection anymore; it was a living, breathing part of her.

Through it, a wave of emotions that weren't her own flooded her senses: Ronan's fierce protectiveness, his absolute devotion, the weight of his duty now intertwined with a joy he'd long denied himself. Kozue's unwavering steadiness, his profound love for her, and beneath it, a quiet, grateful wonder that he was allowed to have this. The emotions filled her with a warmth and completeness she hadn't known could exist.

They finally separated, the intimate connection giving way to a softer closeness. Ronan gathered her into his arms, turning so she lay against his side. Kozue moved to spoon against her back, his arm draping over her waist to rest on her hip. As she lay there, sandwiched between their solid, powerful bodies, Sloane understood with crystalline clarity.

They were never meant to be three separate parts. They were, and always had been, three parts of the same whole.

Ronan pressed a kiss to the top of her head while Kozue's lips brushed her neck, right over the new, sensitive mate marks. In the quiet of the Alpha's suite, wrapped in the arms of her mates, Sloane Carter—former foster kid, underground fighter, survivor—finally felt peace.

She was home.

EIGHTEEN

RONAN

Ronan had drifted into the deepest sleep of his life without even realizing it. The profound contentment that followed completing the triad mate bond had wrapped around him like a warm blanket, more peaceful than anything he'd experienced in the twelve years since that terrible night when everything changed. Lying there with Sloane's warm body pressed against his chest and Kozue's steady presence at her back, Ronan felt something he'd forgotten existed—the luxury of simply being a man instead of constantly being the Alpha.

For the first time since he'd inherited leadership of the Hale pack, his mind had quieted completely. No mental lists. No strategic calculations. No weight of responsibility pressing down on him. Just this synchronized rhythm of three hearts beating as one, the soft whisper of Sloane's breath against his collarbone, and the bone-deep satisfaction of knowing she was finally, irrevocably theirs.

The pale moonlight streaming through the tall windows of his suite painted everything in silver, creating an almost ethereal quality to the moment. Ronan's internal clock told him hours had passed, though it felt like mere minutes since they'd collapsed together in exhausted bliss.

Across Sloane's sleeping form, Kozue stirred, his green eyes blinking open in the darkness. When their gazes met over her head, Kozue kept his voice to barely a whisper.

"Is it nighttime already? I didn't even realize we'd drifted off."

Ronan moved slightly, careful not to disturb Sloane, whose face was relaxed in sleep. "Neither did I. I was just lying here, savoring this feeling of the completed bond, and I must've dozed off."

A slow smile spread across Kozue's face. "I've never felt anything quite like this before. But now it all makes sense—how we were always supposed to fit together. Not three separate individuals, but one complete unit."

The truth of those words settled deep in Ronan's chest. For years, he and Kozue had worked in perfect harmony, their partnership so seamless that pack members often joked they shared a brain. But this was different. This was the missing piece neither of them had known they needed.

"I'm sorry I ever doubted it could work," Ronan admitted, his voice thick with emotion. "I should have trusted our brotherhood more. And trusted myself that this was always how it was supposed to be."

Kozue's expression grew thoughtful as he absently stroked Sloane's hair. "I'm sorry too. Now I finally understand my place in this triad. I was always supposed to stand beside you and balance the bond. Where you give Sloane strength and steadiness, I give her playfulness and comfort."

"Exactly." Ronan felt a profound sense of rightness wash over him. "This triad bond gives her what she needs from both of us. Our combined strengths make her feel more whole than she could ever feel with just one of us."

The completed mate bond thrummed between them, and through it, Ronan could feel Sloane's dreamless sleep—the first truly restful sleep she'd probably had in years. And he could sense Kozue's quiet amazement at how perfectly they all fit together, like pieces of a puzzle that had finally found their proper places.

Suddenly, Sloane stirred between them, her hazel eyes fluttering open to take in the moonlit room. She blinked several times, clearly disoriented.

"Oh no, we fell asleep," she said softly. "What time is it? I need to go check on Tasha."

Ronan's hand found her shoulder. "I'm sure Tasha is settling in just fine. Besides, Emerson would have made certain our healer Augustine fixed her up completely and insisted she get proper rest afterwards."

Sloane was about to respond when the suite door suddenly burst open without warning. Emerson rushed inside, her usually composed demeanor replaced by urgent panic. She took three steps into the room before realizing what she'd walked into—three naked bodies tangled together in Ronan's massive four-poster bed.