The atmosphere was tense, and I decided to give them some space, but just as I turned to leave, Conor grabbed my wrist, holding me back. I shot him a questioning look but got no clear response. 

 "Hungry?" Belmont asked, pouring the leftovers onto a plate. 

Conor shook his head, his hand still gripping my arm. "Does the offer still stand?" he asked me, and I nodded silently. "A couple of days is all I need." 

 "Are you going to pay rent?" I teased with a grin. 

 "What do you want?" he countered, and once again, my body reacted. 

This time, though, I didn't want to beat the crap out of him. I'd much rather leave the rough moves to him. A smile played on his lips as he let go of my arm, and I walked away. 

My mind, tangled in a web of future possibilities, drifted as I wandered over to the couch and turned on the TV. Maybe it was time to get a job. There were plenty of cafés in town, and I had the experience. One thought led to another, and before I knew it, I was holding my phone, typing out a long message to Magnus. I knew he was waiting for me; he usually checked in every so often. But it had been a while now. 

 Guilt gnawed at me—how could I criticize Belmont when I was doing the exact same thing? I'd left Magnus behind to help Mass, and now here I was with a new boyfriend, going after his shifter, all while my greatest love waited for me in Paris. How the hell did that add up? 

 I let out a heavy sigh and lay down, closing my eyes. Magnus was in a different time zone; it'd probably take hours before he replied. Reality blurred into a haze, and darkness wrapped itself around me. I welcomed the daydreams, letting my body relax. I fantasized about golden curls and a dazzling white smile, hands that knew exactly what I liked, letting me slip into the role of someone weak and vulnerable. 

I missed his strength, his dominance in the bedroom, and the confidence that could make anyone jealous. The dreams shattered abruptly when I felt a hand slide under my shirt. "Waiting for my rent?" a deep voice growled close to my ear as the cushions sank under the weight of his body beside me. 

 I opened my eyes and looked up at Conor's face. His gaze swept over my already aroused body. I was about to explain myself but stopped. It didn't matter. The only question was whether life would get easier—or a hell of a lot harder—if we crossed this line. 

As usual, I let my thoughts spin, then decided to shove them all aside and just enjoy the moment. "I don't think I deserve payment. I've been bad..," I smirked as my hands moved to the black belt holding up his worn jeans. 

That was the answer he needed. My words ignited a fire in the wolf, and something told me it was too late for second thoughts now. The small couch protested underneath our bodies, and he pulled me up toward the bedroom. On our way, I caught a glimpse of Belmont. From the look on his face, they'd been talking—probably about me. 

Without hesitation, I reached out and caught his arm and dragged him into the bedroom with us. Conor had been right—I was sick of being the third wheel and wasn't about to let Bel go through the same thing. If Conor wanted one of us, he'd get the other as part of the deal. From the way things seemed, neither of them had any objections, and for once, I felt a glimmer of hope for the future.

The next morning, the air was thick with the remnants of last night's intensity. Sunlight filtered through the bedroom curtains, highlighting the tangle of limbs on the rumpled bed. The others were still asleep when I woke up. My body sore but content, nestled between Conor and Belmont. It was new, strange, but undeniably right. I let out a soft sigh, my mind already racing with the implications of what had happened. I loved Belmont, and I could really get used to having Conor around. 

I eased out of the bed quietly, pulling on a discarded shirt. The kitchen was my refuge—a place to think while the smell of coffee filled the air. I was halfway through brewing a pot when the sound of footsteps made me glance back. Belmont stood in the doorway, his dark hair tousled, wearing nothing but his jeans.

"Couldn't sleep?" Belmont asked, his voice low and rough with sleep.

I shrugged, handing him a steaming mug. "Too much on my mind."

Belmont took a sip, his gaze never leaving me. "Regrets?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with meaning. "No. Just wondering where this goes from here."

Before Belmont could answer, Conor's voice cut through the silence as he joined them. "Depends on where you want it to go." Shirtless and unapologetically confident, he leaned against the counter, his piercing eyes fixed on both of us. "Unless you're backing out already."

I rolled my eyes, the corner of my mouth twitching into a smirk. "Not a chance. I'm just not used to..." I gestured between the three of us.

Belmont grinned, his hand casually brushing against mine. "We'll get used to it. Or we won't. Either way, you're stuck with us now."

I chuckled softly, shaking my head. "Leave it to you to make it sound like a hostage situation."

"It's not?" Belmont teased, his grin widening.

I rolled my eyes again, nodded to the kitchen table and told them to have a seat while I made breakfast. The tension eased, replaced by the beginnings of something warmer. I looked between the two of them, realizing for the first time how much I wanted this—wanted them.

The pancakes were frying in the pan, the edges bubbling and turning golden. Belmont had left to take a shower, leaving me alone in the kitchen with Conor. The silence wasn't awkward exactly, but it wasn't entirely comfortable either. He leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching me with that lazy smirk that always managed to unnerve me. 

 "Pancakes, huh?" he said, breaking the quiet. His tone was light, but his eyes were sharp, like he was trying to figure me out. 

 I shrugged, flipping a pancake. "Thought I'd keep it simple." 

 He snorted. "Simple's not exactly your style." 

 I shot him a look over my shoulder. "What's that supposed to mean?" 

 He grinned, pushing off the counter and coming to stand beside me. "Just that you're more complicated than you let on. Not a bad thing, though." 

 I rolled my eyes, but my heart gave a little lurch at his words. Conor had this way of getting under my skin, making me question everything without even trying. "And you're an expert on me now?" 

 "Working on it," he said, his voice low and teasing. I shook my head, focusing on the pancakes, but I couldn't ignore the heat radiating from him. He was so close, his arm brushing mine as he reached for the spatula. 

 "Here, let me help," he offered, though it was clear he didn't actually care about the pancakes.

 "I've got it," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. His hand lingered on mine for just a moment too long before he pulled back, letting me flip the pancake onto the waiting plate. 

"You always this stubborn?" 

 "Only when someone's trying to mess up my breakfast," I shot back, earning a quiet laugh. The sound filled the kitchen, warm and rich, and I hated how much I liked it. 

 "Fair enough," he said, leaning back against the counter again. He watched me for a moment, his expression softening. "Thanks for letting me crash here."

 My hand froze mid-reach for the batter, and I turned to look at him. "Thanks for sending him the text."

 He nodded, his gaze meeting mine. "Your little speech was impressive."

"Speech?"

"Yesterday," he clarified. "And since we're being honest..." he sighed and turned away from me, "I had plans on spending the rest of my life with him too." He hesitated, like he was weighing his words. "I'm not letting go this time."

 Something in his voice made my chest tighten, and I set the bowl down, wiping my hands on a towel. "Conor, I—" 

Before I could finish, he stepped closer, close enough that I could see the intensity in his eyes. "I'm not good at this," he admitted, his voice low. "Relationships." His words hung in the air between us, heavy with meaning. I wanted to say something, anything, but the look on his face stopped me. "Me and him, we're always going to be a thing. Always. But you, I know there is something else you are longing for."

 The sincerity in his voice broke through the walls I'd been building. "He's back in Paris. Stuck in a place he can't leave," I confessed. "I'm moving on."

"Are you sure about that?"

I shook my head and sighed. "All I know is that I want this. And we need you."

He let out a breath, the tension in his shoulders easing. "We?" 

 The sound of the shower shutting off broke the moment, and I stepped back, turning my attention to the pancakes. Conor lingered for a moment longer before grabbing a plate. "As I said. I'm not going anywhere."

 I laughed, the tension melting away. "Better buy a larger bed then."

 As Belmont walked into the kitchen, his hair damp and a towel slung over his shoulders, I glanced between the two of them and felt something I hadn't in a long time—the apartment suddenly felt like home.