DAPHNE

His mouth finds my shoulder, kissing along the line of it while his hands slide up from my waist. Krue's watching us, watching me, and the heat in his eyes could melt steel.

"The dress," Krue says. "Take it off."

"Which one of us?" Arden asks against my skin.

"Does it matter?"

"Everything matters."

I reach back, trying to find the zipper, but my hands are shaking too badly. Arden catches them, holding them still.

"I've got it," he murmurs.

The zipper slides down slowly, the sound obscenely loud in the quiet room. Cool air hits my spine, and then Arden's fingers—tracing the line of my back, following the path the zipper made.

Krue's hands find the front of the dress, easing it off my shoulders. The silk pools at my feet, leaving me in nothing but the delicate ivory lingerie that had been laid out with the gown.

Both of them go very still.

"Christ," Arden breathes.

Krue's jaw is tight, his hands fisting at his sides like he's physically restraining himself from reaching for me.

I should feel exposed. Vulnerable.

Instead, I feel powerful.

"Your turn," I say, surprised by how steady my voice sounds.

Arden moves first, shrugging out of his jacket and tossing it aside. His shirt follows, and I catch a glimpse of defined muscle, the edge of a tattoo curving along his ribs.

Krue takes longer, methodical even now, each button opened with deliberate precision. But when the shirt finally comes off, I understand why he took his time.

Scars. Old ones, long healed, cutting across his chest and shoulders.

My fingers reach out before I can stop them, tracing one that runs from his collarbone down toward his heart.

"Battle marks," he says quietly.

"They're—" Beautiful, I almost say. But that's not quite right. "They're proof you survived."

Something flickers in his eyes. Then his hand catches mine, bringing my fingers to his mouth. He kisses each one, slow and deliberate, and the intimacy of it is almost worse than the desire.

"Bed," Arden says. "Now."

Krue's grip on my hand tightens. "Don't give her orders."

"That wasn't an order. It was a suggestion."

"Sounded like an order."

"Everything sounds like an order to you."

I pull my hand free and walk toward the bed myself, feeling both their eyes on me with every step. When I reach it, I turn.

They're standing exactly where I left them, watching me like predators deciding whether to pounce.

"Are you coming or not?" I ask.

They move at the same time.

Arden reaches me first, catching me around the waist and pulling me down onto the mattress. I land half on top of him, and his hands immediately find bare skin—my thigh, my hip, sliding up my ribs.

Krue settles on my other side, propping himself up on one elbow. His hand traces along my jaw, turning my face toward him.

"Look at me," he says.

I do.

He kisses me. Not gentle. Not asking permission. Just takes my mouth like it's already his, and I open for him without thinking.

Arden's hand slides higher, fingers tracing beneath the edge of the lace. "Not fair. I want her attention too."

Krue breaks the kiss. "Then earn it."

The challenge hangs in the air between them.

Arden's hand moves, sliding between my thighs, and my hips buck off the bed involuntarily.

"There," Arden says, satisfaction clear in his voice. "I'd say I have her attention now."

Krue's eyes narrow. His hand drops to my breast, thumb circling through the lace, and pleasure spikes sharp and sudden.

I'm caught between them again, but this time there's no escape. Every touch, every kiss, every deliberate movement designed to pull a reaction from me—from each other.

"She's trembling," Krue observes.

"Good trembling or bad trembling?" Arden asks against my neck.

I can barely form words. "Good. Definitely good."

Arden's fingers press more firmly, and I gasp. Krue swallows the sound with another kiss, deeper this time, demanding.

The mate bond is singing, pulling, screaming for completion. I can feel it building—the need, the inevitability of what comes next.

Arden's hand stills. "Tell me you want this."

"I already said—"

"Say it again."

I turn my head to look at him. His expression is serious now, all the playfulness stripped away.

"I want this," I say clearly. "Both of you. Now."

Krue's hand slides down my stomach. "Then you'll have us."

Their hands move in tandem—Krue removing my bra, Arden sliding the lace down my hips. I should feel vulnerable, laid bare between them.

Instead, I feel claimed.

Arden shifts, moving over me, and I can feel him—all of him—pressed against me through the thin fabric of his pants.

"My turn first," he says, looking at Krue.

"The hell it is."

"I got her out of the dress."

"I got her into bed."

"That was her choice, not your doing."

I grab both their faces, forcing them to look at me instead of each other. "Stop competing and figure it out."

They stare at me. Then at each other.

Something passes between them—understanding, maybe. Agreement.

"Together," Krue says finally.

Arden's slow smile returns. "I can work with that."

Their mouths find me at the same time—Krue's on my neck, Arden's trailing down my stomach—and coherent thought dissolves completely.

Hands everywhere. Mouths tasting, testing, learning. The mate bond pulses with each touch, pulling tighter and tighter until I can't tell where I end and they begin.

"Please," I hear myself gasp.

"Please what?" Arden asks against my hip.

"Please don't stop."

"Never," Krue growls.

The last barrier of clothing disappears—theirs, then mine—and then there's nothing between us anymore. Just skin and heat and need so fierce it borders on pain.

Arden settles between my thighs, and Krue's hand tangles in my hair, tilting my head back for another devastating kiss.

"Ready?" Arden asks, and I can hear the strain in his voice—how hard he's holding back.

I nod.

He pushes forward, slow and controlled, and the sensation of being filled—claimed—completed—rips a sound from my throat I didn't know I could make.

Krue breaks the kiss to watch my face, his eyes molten. "Beautiful."

Arden stills, seated fully inside me, his forehead dropping to my shoulder. "Fuck. Fuck."

"Move," I demand.

He does. Slow at first, then faster, each thrust deliberate and deep. Krue's hands map every inch of exposed skin, his mouth following, and pleasure builds in waves—higher and higher until I'm certain I can't take any more.

"That's it," Arden breathes. "Let go. Let us have you."

I shatter.

The orgasm crashes through me, violent and complete, and I dimly hear Arden curse as my body clenches around him. He follows seconds later, spilling inside me with a groan that sounds almost pained.

For a moment, there's only breathing. Hearts pounding. The mate bond settling into something warm and right.

Then Arden pulls out carefully, and Krue is already moving—shifting me, positioning himself.

"My turn," he says simply.

I'm boneless, oversensitive, still coming down from the first high. "I can't—"

"You can." His hand cups my face, forcing me to meet his eyes. "And you will."

He enters me in one smooth thrust, and I cry out—pleasure sharp enough to hurt.

"Too much?" he asks, voice strained.

"No. More."

His control snaps.

Where Arden was deliberate, Krue is relentless. Each thrust claiming, possessive, branding me from the inside out. His hands grip my hips hard enough to leave marks, and I want them—want the proof of this, of us.

Arden's mouth finds mine, swallowing my moans while Krue drives into me again and again, chasing his own release.

"Come for me," Krue demands. "One more time."

"I can't—"

"You can." His hand slides between us, finding the bundle of nerves that makes my vision white out. "Now."

I fall apart a second time, screaming against Arden's mouth. Krue follows immediately after, his release hot and deep as the mate bond snaps fully into place.

All three of us.

Connected.

Complete.

Krue collapses beside me, breathing hard. Arden curls against my other side, his hand finding mine.

No one speaks for a long moment.

The mate bond hums beneath my skin, warm and certain and right. This is what I was supposed to have. What I died without ever knowing.

Krue's arm comes around my waist. Arden's fingers lace through mine.

And for the first time in two lifetimes, I feel whole.