Chapter 44
1590 Words
Third person POV
The door to Gwen’s room was closed.
Again.
Cole tried not to let it bother him. Tried.
He sat in the armchair in the suite’s common space, a book open on his lap that he’d read the same paragraph of four times. Across the room, Cash was aimlessly flipping through channels, though the remote had been resting on his thigh for ten solid minutes.
They were both doing the same thing: pretending they weren’t listening for the smallest sound from Gwen’s room.
Cain had gone in hours ago. Quietly. With the look of a man walking into a prayer he hoped wouldn’t be answered too loudly.
And now… silence.
“Do you think they’re—” Cash started, then cut himself off, jaw flexing.
Cole didn’t look up from the book. “I don’t think it’s our business.”
“Maybe not. Doesn’t stop me from feeling it.”
Cole finally looked up. “Yeah,” he said. “Me too.”
They sat in that shared discomfort for a while, the tension stretched tight between them like a frayed wire. It wasn’t jealousy, not exactly—it was more complicated. More raw.
Cole set the book down.
“She needs to feel safe,” he said quietly. “And Cain is the one who gave her that first. We knew this would happen.”
Cash didn’t answer right away, but his voice, when it came, was rough. “Yeah, but it’s one thing to know. It’s another to feel it.”
Cole got up, crossing the room to the window. The moon hung low, fat and full, casting a silver glow across the city below.
“She’s starting to open up,” he said. “To all of us. But it’s not gonna be even. Not at first. And that’s okay.”
Cash stood too, restless energy in his limbs. “What if she never feels that way about me?”
Cole turned, leveling his brother with a look. “You think she’d be letting you sleep in her bed if she didn’t feel something real?”
Cash looked away.
“We’re all fated to her,” Cole said gently. “The bond’s real. We just have to let her grow into it at her pace. That means we deal with our own s**t without making it harder on her.”
There was a long pause. Then Cash nodded slowly. “You always were the smart one.”
Cole gave a half-smile. “And don’t you forget it.”
The door to Gwen’s room remained shut, but the tension in the suite eased, just a little. Enough for both of them to remember why they were here in the first place.
Gwen
The late morning sun warmed the stone bench where I sat, my hands twisting nervously in her lap. The gardens behind the Capital City Pack house were quiet—just a few fluttering birds and the soft sound of the fountain nearby. I'd asked Jordan to meet me here privately, away from the boys, away from the buzz of breakfast and shifting pack plans.
Jordan arrived a minute later, her cheeks slightly flushed from the walk, and her hand absently pressed over her tiny baby bump. “You okay?” she asked, sitting beside me.
I hesitated. “I think so.”
Jordan tilted her head knowingly. “You called me out here to talk about the triplets, didn’t you?”
I gave her a sheepish smile. “You always know.”
“Because I’ve been where you are,” Jordan said, nudging my shoulder. “Except with way fewer abs involved.”
That made me laugh, tension easing slightly. But then I exhaled deeply and said, “I think I’m ready.”
Jordan’s expression softened. “To sleep with them?”
I nodded, cheeks heating. “Well… not them. Not all at once. Just Cain. First.”
Jordan gave me a warm, proud smile. “That’s a big step, Gwen.”
“I know.” I looked down at my hands again. “He’s been so patient with me. They all have. But Cain… I feel safest with him. And I want this. I do. But…”
Jordan waited.
“I’m scared,” I admitted. “What if something triggers me? What if I shut down or pull away mid-way through? What if it ruins everything?”
Jordan reached over, taking my hands gently. “Then he’ll stop. He’ll hold you and wait until you're okay. That’s what love is. That’s what a real mate does.”
I swallowed. My eyes prickled with emotion. “I hate that my past still has this hold on me.”
“It doesn’t mean you’re broken,” Jordan said firmly. “It means you’re healing. And choosing to take this step with someone you trust—that’s brave.”
I nodded, my voice quiet. “Will you help me plan it?”
Jordan grinned. “You mean, like, candles and music?”
I laughed again, this time more freely. “I don’t know! Just… make it feel like something good. Something I can choose. Not something that happens to me.”
Jordan squeezed my hand. “Then that’s exactly what we’ll do.”
We sat there for a few moments, the birdsong filling the silence. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel afraid of the future—just cautious, a little nervous… and maybe even excited.
Jordan flopped onto my bed like it was the softest thing she'd touched in days. She spread her arms wide, her bump rounding gently beneath her sweater, and sighed like she’d just set down the weight of the world.
"Okay," she said, eyes on the ceiling, "first rule of planning your first night with your mate: no pressure. No expectations. Just intention."
I curled into myself, cross-legged with a pillow hugged tightly to my chest. "What kind of intention?"
Jordan propped herself up on her elbows and looked at me like it was the easiest question in the world. "Romantic. Grounded. Yours. This night should feel like something you chose."
I nodded slowly. "Yeah. That’s exactly what I want. I want it to be slow. Gentle. Like I’m reclaiming something I thought I’d lost forever."
Her smile softened in a way that made my chest ache. "Then we start with the space."
She stood up and began pacing the room, already forming a plan in that efficient Beta mind of hers. “Candles for the lighting—nothing harsh or artificial. Beeswax, maybe a little lavender or sandalwood. Something that feels warm. Safe.”
I closed my eyes for a second and pictured it. Soft flickering light, golden shadows, the calm hush of a room filled with care.
“I’d like that,” I whispered.
“Do you want flowers?”
I opened my eyes and tilted my head. “Maybe. White ones? Something subtle. Peaceful.”
“White roses and jasmine,” she said without missing a beat. “I’ll have them arranged around the room. Not too many. Just enough to make it feel like a temple.”
I smiled at her choice of words. “This feels a little ridiculous.”
“It’s not,” she said, walking back toward me and dropping onto the edge of the bed. “This isn’t just s*x, Gwen. It’s your first time with your fated mate. It’s sacred.”
I looked down at the pillow in my arms. “I don’t even know what to wear.”
Jordan gave me a wicked grin. “Technically, you’re not keeping it on.”
I smacked her with the pillow and laughed despite myself. “You’re the worst.”
She grinned and nudged my foot with hers. “But really—what would you feel good in?”
Something shifted in my chest. “Not lace. Not tight. Just something soft. Pretty. Comfortable.”
“I’ll have a few silk nightgowns brought up. Nothing too sheer, unless you want that. You’ll know when you try it on, but I have a pale blue one that would look stunning on you.”
My throat went tight. I hated how nervous I felt. How vulnerable. “What if I freeze up?” I asked quietly.
Jordan’s voice gentled immediately. “Then you say so. You breathe. You touch his face and ask for a pause. And I promise you, Gwen—Cain will stop the moment you need him to.”
A tear slipped down my cheek before I could stop it. “He’s been so patient.”
“Because he loves you. Because he’s your mate. And because you matter more than anything you could give him.”
I wiped my cheek and nodded. “How do you always know the right thing to say?”
She leaned over and wrapped me in a hug, holding me tight and safe and steady. “Because I’ve been there. And I had to learn the hard way that healing doesn’t mean being fearless. It means being brave anyway.”
We sat like that for a long moment—two women, two wolves, both shaped by different battles but still standing.
When we finally pulled apart, Jordan gave me a smile that sparkled with mischief. “All you have to do is show up. In your own skin. In your own power.”
“And maybe in that pale blue nightgown?” I teased.
She winked. “Exactly.”
- Writer
