The safe house is *dark*, the only light the *flicker* of the fire in the hearth. The scent of *pine* and *blood* and *lust* is thick in the air, *cloying*, *intoxicating*. The pack *surrounds* me, their dark eyes *burning*, their voices a low, hungry *growl*.
Knox is *pale*, but his dark eyes are *black* with hunger, his voice a growl. *"Tonight… we *claim* you, omega. *Fully*."*
I bare my teeth, my voice a snarl. *"I already *chose* you, assholes."*
His smirk is *dark*, his voice a dark promise. *"And tonight… we *seal* it."*
*Fuck.*
The bond *pulses* between us, a living, *breathing* thing. I can *feel* them—Knox’s *rage*, Zane’s *control*, Jax’s *chaos*, Micah’s *mischief*, Cole’s *devotion*. It’s *overwhelming*. It’s *intoxicating*. It’s *f*****g* mine.
---
Zane *steps* forward
