Shifter Forbidden Mate

Chapter Five

Eira 'S POV

My studio apartment feels significantly smaller with three massive men inside it, but that thought barely registers. If anything, the cramped space makes everything feel heavier, closer, more unavoidable. Their bodies crowd the room, filling it with heat and presence and that unmistakable animal energy that hums just beneath the surface.

“I wanna see her naked,” Draven growls, his voice low and rough. “Get those clothes off her.”

The words send a shiver straight through me.

Soren steps closer, sliding his hands under the hem of my shirt. He pauses, his thumbs brushing my skin, grounding me just enough to ask, “You good?”

“Yeah.” I’m already breathless. It's already aching. “You want this?”

“I want it,” I say, my voice embarrassingly needy. “Do it.”

He nods once and lifts my shirt over my head, tossing it carelessly into a corner. I register, distantly, that I probably won’t find it later. I also register that I don’t care in the slightest.

I reach for him, my hands fumbling with his shirt, wanting him bare too wanting to see, to touch, to feel. But he catches my wrists mid-motion and pins them together above my head.

“Nope,” he murmurs. “This time, it’s about you.”

I blink up at him. “This time?”

“Hey,” he says, quieter now, but no less certain. “We’re a good team, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t see us going our separate ways after this job. I’m betting we do more work together. Spend more time together.” His gaze holds mine. “We’re in each other’s lives now.”

That should terrify me.

That sentence alone should be enough to make me pull away, gather my clothes, and tell them all to leave. Even the job which I need desperately would be worth abandoning if it meant keeping myself safe. I could find another way to survive. I always have.

But I don’t move.

I can feel how loose Soren’s grip really is. If I wanted to pull free, I could. He would let me.

I don’t want to.

“You can get me naked next time,” he promises softly. “But this time, I want to see what the three of us can do for you. You earned it.”

“But you already bought me drinks,” I protest weakly.

“You want us to stop?” he asks.

“No…”

“Then quit complaining.”

His attention shifts over my shoulder. “Finish undressing her, Draven.”

Hands appear at the front of my jeans, confident and deliberate. The button pops open. Denim slides down my hips, followed by my underwear, leaving me exposed and shivering. Somewhere behind me, I hear the soft snap of the blinds being drawn shut.

Fuck.

Nothing about this feels familiar.

I’ve only ever been with Cassian, back when my life was simple, back when love felt safe and slow and known. We grew up together, and our intimacy was gentle, almost innocent sometimes like we were still half children, learning each other’s bodies through affection more than hunger.

This is nothing like that.

Every place they touch me lights up like dry tinder. Soren cups my breasts, his palms warm and firm, thumbs circling close to my n*****s but never quite touching. Each near-miss makes me gasp, my back arching as I try to chase the sensation, but he doesn’t relent.

He’s in control.

Behind me, Draven nudges my feet apart with his own, widening my stance. The shift leaves me open, vulnerable, and suddenly very aware of how exposed I am.

I know what’s coming. I want it desperately.

But when his hands slide over my bare skin one tracing the curve of my hip, the other skimming slowly up my inner thigh I realize something else entirely.

He’s hot.

Not metaphorically. Physically.

The heat radiating from him is almost unbearable, like standing too close to a flame. For a moment, my mind scrambles for an explanation.

Fever, I think.

But that doesn’t fit. He’s been tireless all day. Strong. Sharp.

“Dragon,” I breathe without meaning to.

Draven chuckles, the sound vibrating through me. “Very good.”

I’ve never met a dragon in the flesh. I only heard stories. Only seen the devastation they left behind. They were the only shifters the host truly feared.

The fact that this knowledge makes him even more attractive to me is deeply concerning.

Then his fingers press into me slow, deliberate, impossibly hot and my thoughts scatter completely. I feel like I’m dissolving, like I’m burning from the inside out. Every nerve lights up at once.

My knees give way.

The only things keeping me upright are my arms looped around Soren’s shoulders and Draven’s hand holding me steady. I grind down without shame, chasing the sensation, my head falling back against Draven’s chest.

“Damn,” he groans. “She’s tight. I can’t wait to f**k her.”

“Let me feel,” Soren says, his voice strained.

Draven withdraws his fingers, and I whine, the sound slipping out of me without permission.

Someone laughs softly. “She’s wrecked already.”

Art steps in close, his hand lifting my chin. He kisses me, slow and deep, and I feel consumed. I barely register my hands moving from Soren to Art before my feet leave the floor entirely.

The world tilts.

I blink, and suddenly I’m on my bed.

Soren is between my legs, grinning up at me like he knows exactly what he’s about to do to me.

“What the f**k are you doing to me?” I gasp.

“Gonna make you come,” he says simply.

His mouth seals around me, and I cry out as his tongue works against me, rough and relentless. I try to sit up, to grind against his face, but hands hold me down firm, unyielding.

Art kisses me again, stealing my breath, while Draven’s fingers find my n*****s, pinching and twisting them just enough to make me cry out. It hurts, but the pain only sharpens the pleasure. I’ve never felt this alive.

When my o****m hits, it’s overwhelming like something cosmic tearing through me. I don’t have to chase it. It claims me completely.

I scream.

For a brief moment, I hope my neighbors can’t hear me. I have no idea how I’d explain this to my very human landlord.

When I come back to myself, I’m wrapped in arms and warmth, cradled between them like something precious. I’ve never felt this cherished. This is safe.

And that terrifies me.

I don’t know how I’m going to let these men go.

But I know I will have to.

“We should get her into bed,” Draven says gently.

“We should get all of us into bed,” Art replies. “We’ve got work in the morning. Stage two’s going to be more complicated.”

“Hmm,” I managed.

They laugh softly.

Art lifts me again, carrying me toward the bed. “C’mon,” he murmurs. “Bedtime.”

They settle around me, bodies warm and solid, and even though I know I shouldn’t get attached right now, I can’t think of a single reason to send them away.