The door shut with a low, final click.
Moonlight pooled through the tall glass doors, painting the furs and carved wood in crimson and silver. The air itself seemed charged, humming like a bowstring drawn too tight. Shadows danced across the walls, and every streak of light seemed to pulse with anticipation.
Rian and Thorne lingered in the doorway, broad shoulders shadowed by the blood moon's glow. Their chests rose and fell with a kind of restraint that bordered on pain, eyes locked wholly on her.
She's fire. A storm. Ours.
Rian's wolf clawed beneath his skin, restless and reckless, whispering the word that burned in his bones: mate. He swayed forward, jaw tight, like it hurt not to launch himself at her.
Thorne's throat worked as he swallowed, knuckles flexing at his sides. He'd thought of her in the woods, her gaze cutting through him like lightning. Now, here she stood, bathed in moonlight, untouchable and more his than anything he'd ever seen. His hunger was quieter, darker, waiting for the perfect moment.
To them, she looked unreal—bare feet glowing against the crimson floor, hair tumbling down like a dark river, eyes flickering gold and molten red, lips parted on a breath neither could claim. She wasn't just beautiful. She was other.
And Sena... she wasn't sure she was even inside her body anymore. Something had slipped beneath her skin, taken hold of her limbs, and pushed her mind into the background. Her chest burned with a fire she couldn't name, skin prickling at the nearness of their heat. Since the woods, since Deacon, desire had haunted her. And Deacon's scars... her mind twisted on them. He had been her prize. Her salvation.
Her body refused her mind's commands. She drifted into the middle of the room, slowly turning to face them in the doorway.
Rian's jaw flexed, a restless muscle betraying his need. Thorne's nostrils flared, drinking her in, silence deeper than words. Wolves barely leashed, ready to devour.
Sena's lips curved into a smirk she didn't recognize. Step by step, she backed toward the massive bed, crimson light spilling wider as though following her. At the edge, she lowered herself down—not in retreat, but invitation. Propped on elbows, chest rising fast, she raised a trembling hand and beckoned them forward with a curl of her finger.
Their wolves howled mate inside them, lungs straining to hold back. No words passed. None were needed.
Rian moved first. Boots thudded softly against the floorboards as he stalked forward, each step jerky, impatient, like he might spring at her any second. Chest heaving, eyes lit with restless silver fire, he never left her sight. Every fiber of him ached to be closer, to taste, to claim.
Thorne followed, slower, heavier, every movement precise. Where Rian was fire, Thorne was shadow, dark hunger dragging down her body in a slow claim that made her skin prickle. He inhaled her scent, every heartbeat of it, his wolf whining low at the promise of possession.
Sena swallowed hard, throat dry, back arching, hips shifting against the thick furs beneath her as if seeking relief from the ache. Inside, she screamed to stop, to speak, to demand what this was. But her lips stayed shut. Her body stayed open. The smirk lingering on her face wasn't hers—it belonged to whatever had taken control.
Rian reached her first, fisting the furs beside her hip, wolf snarling. Thorne's shadow fell beside him, gaze locked on her eyes, glowing molten red and gold.
Sena let her finger curl again, beckoning.
Rian growled, climbing onto the bed, bracing on his hands as he prowled toward her. Thorne stayed at the floor, hands sliding over her calves, curling around her legs, knees pressing at his shoulders. Every touch made her jerk, breath shattering in her chest, wolf pressing harder inside, chanting mate.
Rian's mouth hovered above hers, silver fire flashing in his eyes. Thorne's grip slid higher, pulling her toward the edge.
Rian snapped first. A growl tore from him as he claimed her lips, tongue tangling sharp and hungry, body arching into his before her mind caught up. Every kiss, every bite sent sparks of pleasure crawling up her spine.
Thorne dragged her closer, hands sliding up her thighs, spreading her open, lips hot and rough on her skin. The scrape of his teeth made her gasp into Rian's mouth. Her knees pressed at his shoulders as he worshiped her, a low growl vibrating in his chest.
"Fuck," Rian groaned, biting down like he couldn't stand another second without marking her.
Thorne moved higher, worship turning into possession with every nip and kiss. Her thighs trembled, skin burning. He paused only once, eyes steady and feral, asking without words.
Her bra slipped away unnoticed—Rian's hands hot and greedy, cupping her breasts, thumb teasing a nipple as she moaned, lips devoured. Thorne's mouth worked between her thighs, relentless.
Her chest rose and fell raggedly. She wanted to resist, but her body refused, answering only to them, to fire in her veins, to the growls and moans surrounding her. She felt raw, exposed, utterly alive. Her wolf pressed closer, murmuring in a language only she and they understood.
Rian pulled back for a moment, forehead resting against hers, eyes dark with hunger. Yes. Mine.
Thorne's growl deepened, eyes meeting hers. Permission given with a nod, and the next wave crashed through her. Every lick, nip, and press reverberated through her core. Rian's hands and lips worked her chest as she arched, lost between them. Wolf chanting mate, mind whispering I want this. I need this. I can't stop this.
Sena shivered, breath ragged, a small, almost terrified laugh escaping as pleasure racked her body. Her hands tangled in the sheets, gripping at nothing, grounding herself against the overwhelming sensation.
And then, just as the tension threatened to shatter her completely, the door clicked open.
Three shadows slipped across the floor, crimson light streaking fire across the room.
Her head snapped toward the doorway.
Deacon.
He strode forward, shirtless, battle-scarred, every movement deliberate, chest rising and falling, heat pressing down like gravity. The other two brothers flanked him, silent, eyes locked on her sprawled, flushed body, glowing eyes, desperate posture.
His gaze found hers, molten and unyielding. His voice, low and deliberate, cut straight to her core:
"Little flame."
The nickname struck her like lightning. Pleasure ripped through her, hips arching into Thorne's relentless mouth, moans tearing free before her mind could process. Fire surged beneath her skin, and for the first time, she realized the full weight of being bound by five. Her wolf cried out in ecstasy. She had never imagined anything could feel this consuming, this complete.