With a low growl, his littermate climaxed, too, sharing the moment with him, with Margery. Their female.
A sweetness, a rightness, like he’d never felt before washed through Donal.
After a moment, he lifted his gaze to Tynan, and they both smiled. Yes.
Before Donal even thought of moving, Tynan kissed down Margery’s back and pulled out.
Her sharp inhalation at his loss made him smile. After stroking her hair, Tynan whispered, “You’re beautiful, a leannán. Thank you for this gift,” before disappearing into the bathroom.
At his words, her lips quivered slightly, and Donal’s heart ached. Tynan was right. The wolflet needed all their tenderness.
“Come here, cariad.” Gently, Donal eased her down on top of him so he could run his hands up and down her back. So he could kiss her.
Her lips were sweet, and her curvy body was the sweetest weight. Had he ever known anyone so giving?
By the Gods, it shook him how close he’d come to losing her, to losing Tynan. This time together had been more than a mating; it was a celebration of joy that they’d survived.
And with a sigh, he admitted the truth simmering in his heart.
He loved his brother…and he loved Margery.
After cleaning up, Tynan crawled into the bed and grinned. Looking boneless, Meggie was draped over Donal like a blanket.
Tynan grinned at his brother. “Share, greedy cat.” He pulled her off Donal onto the mattress so they could tuck her between the two of them.
Snuggling down with her head on Donal’s shoulder, she pulled Tynan’s arm over her waist and cuddled his hand between her breasts. Her fingers twined between his.
Within seconds, her breathing slowed, and she went limp again.
“I think we wore her out.” Donal stroked her hair, his expression soft.
“I’d say the entire evening did that.” By the Gods, it had been a terrifying night.
He’d been one second from death.
Silas had died.
Meggie and Donal had been out there with the hellhound. The thought of losing them…
Unable to help himself, he rolled Meggie onto her back, gripping her hand as if he could hold her back from her reckless courage.
He looked over at his littermate. “I understand why you went out there, mo deartháir.” His voice came out a low rasp. “But by the Gods…”
Donal’s gaze met his. “How do you think I felt, seeing you jump in front of a hellhound? And then realizing Margery followed me?”
Without opening her eyes, Meggie stirred and bent her head to kiss Tynan’s fingers, her lips soft on his callused hand. “’Course I did. You needed help.”
Braced on an elbow, Tynan kissed her cheek, then her lips. The words weren’t easy to say, but he offered them like a wolf bringing a breakfast bunny to his mate. “It’s not easy to see someone I love risking her life, mo chridhe.”
Her eyes flew open. The way her body went still told him she hadn’t considered that he might actually care for her.
That was his failing…not sharing his emotions. He nuzzled her hair and tried again. “I love you, Meggie mine.”
His littermate grunted as if he’d been punched.
After a second, Donal went up on an elbow, mirroring Tynan’s pose, and kissed Meggie. “I love you, too, you know.”
When she made a sound like a startled mouse, he shot Tynan an amused look—because nothing kept the cat down for long.
Donal pushed a strand of hair out of her face. “As it happens, I know you love us back. Don’t you?” The light way he said the words couldn’t conceal the longing beneath.
Aye, we’re both lost, aren’t we?
Tynan ran a finger over her cheek. “Give us the words, little wolf.”
She was incapable of holding back when someone needed her…and there was no way she could miss how much they needed to hear how she felt.
Tynan’s heart swelled painfully as she whispered. “I love you, Tynan.”
She turned to Donal, “I love you, Donal. Both of you.” Reaching out, she pulled them down to her, hugging them tightly.
Tynan put his arm over her and his brother. The satisfaction of holding the ones he loved—his family—filled him to overflowing.
This…this is right.
Chapter Twenty-One
Unclaimed territory, Washington - waxing gibbous moon
Nerves had Margery tapping her fingers on the steering wheel as she drove south on Highway 9. The last month, since the first night she’d spent with Tynan and Donal to now, had been like an amazing dream. Work, friends, and a home. Tynan and Donal.
They loved her. She pulled in a breath, hearing their words again. Seeing Tynan’s clear blue eyes so filled with emotion, hearing the catch in Donal’s voice.
They love me. Me!
She’d never dreamed life could hold so much happiness.
A growl broke into her thoughts.
She frowned at Tynan in the passenger seat. “Am I doing something wrong?”
“Not you, lass.” He pointed to the car in front of them on the highway. “They’re moving slower than a pixie after a hard freeze. If you stay behind them, it’ll take us all day to get to the festival grounds.”
“Oh.” That sounded fine to her. Because she had a feeling this weekend was liable to turn a dream into a nightmare. The Rainier clan would be at the summer solstice festival.
Grumbling came from Oliver in the back seat, and her mood lightened. It was good to have him here.
After disappearing for a week after Silas’s death at the lodge, he’d returned and apologized for his behavior that night. They’d talked and then talked some more. He’d shared what he’d experienced as a shifter-soldier. That he was having trouble coping. That he’d been drunk that night and a few other nights.
For the last week, things between them had gotten better.
Which was good. Neither of them liked conflict—one of the few traits they had in common. Over the years, she’d forgotten how different she was from her littermates. She was the even-tempered, practical, and affectionate one. Being a banfasa suited her.
If he’d lived, tough Orson would have probably been a warrior—a cahir, even. Her last memory of him still hurt: him charging the Scythe, the soldier’s gun firing, the life draining from his eyes.
The Mother guard you, Orson.
Oliver was the sensitive, creative one. Grandmama had once said that a vivid imagination made it difficult to be brave…and Oliver had been awfully cautious as a cub. Being forced to become a Scythe soldier must have been such a nightmare. And during their talks, he’d said the Scythe considered killing him for being a “waste of time and effort”. His self-esteem had been shredded. He had nightmares from what he’d witnessed. What he’d been forced to do.
She understood, oh, she totally did. And she’d help him all she could.
Although if he kept grumping in the backseat, she might turn around and smack him one.
“I hate the fucking human vehicles,” he muttered. “Go faster, sis.”
The sound of him scratching set off her own itches. She rubbed her arm vigorously before frowning at Tynan. “Why aren’t you itching?”
He shrugged. “I’m more immune than most to metal. It’s why I could survive in the city.”