The air in the sanctuary thickened with pheromones — Lyra's sweet, desperate heat mingling with the dark, dominant musk of three alpha wolves who had waited centuries for this exact moment.
Kael moved first.
He crossed to the heavy wooden table at the chamber's center — ancient oak, scarred by generations of pack rituals, its surface polished by time and use. His hands gripped the edge, knuckles white, his control hanging by a thread visible only in the tremor of his broad shoulders.
"Rules," he commanded, his voice dropping to frequencies that vibrated through Lyra's bonemarrow. "You belong to this triad. To me. To Jax, and to Soren. Your body is our territory until your heat breaks, and it will break, Lyra. We will f**k you until it surrenders."
Lyra moaned, rolling onto her hands an
