(Thomas POV)
It had been a little more than a week into the honeymoon before the three of us realized we had totally lost track of time. Days mattered less than the rhythm we were finding with each other.
Morning light on warm wood. Leah's laugh…quiet, surprised, when Edythe stole a kiss that turned into a whole new moment. The steady, indulgent heat of Ecuador wrapped around us like it had been waiting. And we took to that indulgence with pleasure.
At the time of the ceremony, I'd thought it would be the thing that made everything feel real and true.
This last week proved that thought wrong on so many levels. It was amazing how easy it was to let everything go now that we were so far away from everyone we knew.
We didn't have to pretend to be a teacher, a brother, a sister. Or contained. Or, even patient.
Edythe, in particular, acted like the concept of "restraint" was a rumor she'd heard once and dismissed out of spite. She treated sex the way she treated everything she loved…boldly, creatively, with the kind of confidence that made you forget there was ever a world where you were supposed to be ashamed of showing affection openly.
She liked to tease. To push. To see how long Leah could hold a straight face before it cracked, how long I could keep my hands to myself before I lost the argument. She liked the moments right before…when a look across the room became a promise, when a hand brushing past my back at breakfast turned into her dragging me by the shirt into the bedroom minutes later like she'd just remembered she owned the house, the air, and me. Then moments later, she would pause and drag Leah into the room with us.
Leah was different, not in what she wanted, but in how she arrived there.
With Leah, it was always a slow burn first…touch that lingered, kisses that deepened a little at a time, like she was letting herself believe she was allowed to want without paying for it afterward. She liked softness. Patience. The kind of closeness that made it impossible to hide in your own head.
But once Leah decided she wanted something… she didn't hover at the edge of it anymore.
She took it.
There were nights she climbed on top of me like it was the most natural thing in the world, palms flat on my shoulders, eyes locked to mine, setting the pace with a steadiness that made my chest tighten. Not frantic. Not desperate. Just certain, like she'd finally stopped apologizing for needing to be wanted.
And then there were nights Edythe made both of us lose track of any plan we'd started with.
Because Edythe wasn't just adventurous, she was shameless in the best way. She'd laugh softly against Leah's mouth, then glance at me like a dare, like she wanted to see whether I'd follow her lead or make her fight for it. Sometimes I did. Sometimes I didn't. Either way, she was pleased.
And the strangest, best part was how quickly "mine" stopped meaning ownership and started meaning safety.
Edythe and Leah spent time together too, real time, not just sharing me as a bridge. Edythe would braid Leah's hair with slow fingers on the porch when the air was still cool, then kiss the back of Leah's neck like it was a private joke. Leah would pretend to grumble, then lean into it anyway. Later, I'd catch them inside with their foreheads pressed together, quiet and close, like they were building something between them that didn't need an audience.
Somehow, that didn't make me feel left out.
It made me feel… steady.
Like the three of us were finally doing what we'd been circling for months: not just surviving side by side, but choosing each other on purpose.
The only problem with losing track of time was that my body had stopped insisting on sleep the way it used to. I could lie there with them, warmth on one side, cool silk on the other, and feel every second slide past without my brain ever fully shutting off.
Which meant I noticed everything.
The smallest changes in Leah's breathing. The way Edythe's hand would rest on Leah's hip like an anchor. The way Leah would reach for both of us in her sleep without waking, fingers finding skin like she was checking that we were still real.
And then, on the seventh morning, Leah stood in the bathroom doorway with an expression that was half insulted and half stunned.
"My body," she said flatly, "apparently remembered it's a woman's body."
Edythe lifted her head from my shoulder, interest sparking. "Oh?"
Leah's eyes narrowed at her like she didn't appreciate the tone. "My cycle. It started."
For a beat, the room went quiet.
Not because it was bad.
Because it was new.
Leah hadn't had that since shifting, not once, and the fact that it was back hit all three of us in a way none of us named out loud.
Edythe crossed the room and kissed Leah's temple, gentle as a vow. "Okay," she said simply. "We adjust."
Leah let out a breath, like she'd been bracing for something worse. "I'm fine. I'm just… annoyed."
I stepped close enough to brush my knuckles against her hip. "You want to stay in bed and be annoyed at the world?"
Leah's mouth twitched. "Maybe."
Edythe's eyes flicked to mine, dark with amusement. "Then we'll spoil you responsibly," she said, like she was making a medical decision. "You two snuggle, and I will run and get 'supplies'… and chocolate."
Leah rolled her eyes, classic Leah, but she didn't object.
And that was how the first bit of our honeymoon ended: not with fireworks, but with something that proved time moved on whether we took note of it or not.
With the understanding that whatever my body was now, whatever Leah's body decided to do, whatever Edythe was planning next… we'd handle it together.
After Leah's cycle ended, we decided to go visit Edythe's friends, but we decided to travel by foot, or in Leah's and my case, by paw. That led to the next little revelation.
Edythe had the backpack that carried our clothes, and Leah had already shifted when I reached for the heat in my mind. The change was as effortless as ever, but the sudden influx of power and the explosion of my senses was shocking. Both took time to get used to, and that's when I heard her.
{"Hmm, there must be a distance limit for the pack mind. I can't hear them at all. Of course, it's possible that no one is shifted right now. I have no clue what time it is back in Forks."}
I was shocked for a moment, {"Leah, is that your voice I'm hearing?"} Okay, it was a stupid question, but I was shocked.
{"Thomas? How are you in the pack mind? I thought you could only talk to Sam this way?"}
Seeing Leah and I staring at each other intently, Edythe reached out with her telepathy and gasped out loud.
"You two have created your own pack mind."
{"Did what?"} Leah and I sent at the same time.
Edythe's gaze moved between us, intent and delighted. "You made a pack mind," she said quietly. "Not the Quileute one. Yours."
Leah's ears flicked back.
{"But the pack mind only exists shifted…"}
"It does," Edythe agreed, like she was answering the thought she couldn't fully hear, catching it from the shape of Leah's mind and my expression. "That's why you didn't notice until now."
I swallowed.
{"So… Leah doesn't have to share her mind with the Quileute pack anymore?"} I asked Edythe.
Leah's voice came through again, steadier now that the shock had passed.
{"No."} A pause, and then…like she was testing the new edges of it—{"It's just you. Just… us."}
Edythe's eyes softened. "The imprint didn't just enhance what Leah feels," she said. "It changed where she belongs when she's a wolf."
Leah took one slow step closer to me.
{"Okay,"} she sent, rough and a little awed. {"That's… going to take some getting used to."}
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
It was amazing how many thoughts I absorbed from Leah in just moments. Her joy at no longer being the only girl in a pack of men. Her relief that her actions were not going to be seen by her brother in a moment of carelessness. Especially now that she was with Edythe and me. Finally, she gained the separation from Sam that she had wanted for so long. All those thoughts and more ran through Leah's mind, including the relief at not having to hear Paul admire his muscles every time he passed a mirror.
I shook my mind of those thoughts, walked to Leah, and brushed my cheek against hers.
Edythe walked over and slid her hand into Leah's fur at the shoulder. "All right," she murmured, warm. "So we've learned something important."
Leah's ears angled toward her.
Edythe's smile turned wicked in that way that meant she was already planning six things at once.
"We can leave for the Amazon," she said, "and you can have peace in your own head while you run."
Leah huffed.
Then, because she couldn't resist, she sent at me with new confidence, testing, claiming:
{"Can you keep up, tiger?"}
The question hit different now.
Not because it was a challenge.
Because it was play.
Because it came from a Leah who felt safe enough to flirt in her own mind again.
Heat rose in my chest like a living thing.
{"Try me,"} I sent back.
Edythe's eyes flicked between us, and she smiled like she'd just been handed a present.
"Please," she said, stepping back and gesturing grandly toward the trail ahead. "Go on. Show me what my lovers can do."
Leah's tail…yes, her tail…gave the smallest, delighted flick.
Then she launched forward.
And the world snapped into motion.
Everyone knows you don't run from a large cat.
I surged after her, the ground disappearing under my paws, every sense sharpened, every muscle singing with unmatched strength.
{"Oh,"} I sent, and even in the pack mind it came out half laugh, half disbelief. {"That's… new."}
Leah's playful thought reached back to me from up ahead.
{"What's new?"}
I didn't bother trying to explain it. I let her feel it, pure instinct and joy: the forest opening, branches blurring, the earth rolling under me like it was trying to keep up.
In seconds, I raced past her.
Leah pushed harder, chasing the moment she expected me to fade. Wolves were built for distance. Cats were built for bursts.
Except my body didn't get the memo.
I didn't burn. I didn't strain. I didn't hit the wall.
I just… went.
{"What the hell,"} Leah complained, breath and laughter tangled together in the bond. {"How are you so fast and still not tired?"}
{"Apparently,"} I sent back, {"my muscles don't get tired anymore."}
{"Oh, screw you."}
{"Language,"} I sent.
{"Bite me."}
That one made me laugh, and the laugh carried into my stride, pure arrogance, pure momentum.
A minute later I realized I'd drifted back alongside her, matching her pace with insulting ease.
Leah's mind slammed into mine with a flash of teeth.
{"Stop showing off."}
{"You started it."}
{"I started a race. Not a humiliation ritual."}
Behind us, Edythe's voice floated through the trees, amused and effortless.
"When did I become the slow one in this relationship?"
Leah's mental laughter was music.
Then she did what Leah did best when she couldn't win with power, she changed the game.
She cut into tighter terrain, a path that demanded balance instead of speed, snapping turns between trees, using roots and rocks like stepping-stones. It was agility. Precision. Wolf-smart.
I followed without thinking, because what's more agile than a cat?
My tiger body adapted like it had been waiting its whole life for this. Claws bit into earth. Weight shifted. Momentum changed without strain.
Leah risked a glance back.
That split-second cost her.
I surged past again.
{"Unfair."}
{"Life's unfair,"} I shot back. {"I'm just adjusting."}
{"To being insufferable?"}
{"To being married,"} I corrected.
That got her.
Her mind flared, hot, sharp, suddenly intimate, and for one dangerous second the run wasn't about distance or endurance at all.
It was about the new way wanting could sit inside her head without anyone else hearing it. Freedom of thought in her favorite form, something she had never experienced before.
Edythe's laughter followed us, bright as birdsong. "All right," she called, voice carrying through the green. "Enough. Unless you want to spend the day lost, follow me."
Leah slowed first…reluctant, but listening. We angled back toward Edythe's scent trail.