Page 65 of Puck Your Bunny

"I turned around to chew him out." Wally wipes his chin with a paper napkin. "But Kel stood right behind us. The wind shifted through the open front doors."

"The seabreeze scent hit all three of us at the exact same second." Simon takes a long pull from his beer. "The underlying pack bond snapped into place in an instant."

"We caught each other's true scent." Kel bares his teeth in a wicked grin. "Bergamot, worn leather, and amber. All tied together with that seabreeze undertone. The hostility melted into trust. We recognized each other as pack immediately."

"We grabbed our bags." Wally looks at his brothers. A warm, nostalgic look softens his face. "We demanded the front desk put us in the same suite. The coaches saw our synergy on the ice the next morning."

"The pack bond translates straight to our game." Simon taps his temple. "It feels like telepathy out there. We anticipate every pass and every shot before it happens. We started on the bottom lines that rookie season, but our scoring numbers forced the coaches to promote us. We claimed the first line the very next year and dominated the ice."

"Best day of my life." Kel bumps his shoulder against Simon. "We climbed the ranks together."

Eating a piece of a potato, I watch the three of them share their history. They operate with a synchronized, ruthless focus on the ice, but sitting here, they are just three men who found their family. Their connection extends beyond the arena. It bleeds into the way they anticipate my needs and care for Brendan. The gentle treatment they offer me makes my chest ache with affection.

The sun dips below the horizon. String lights hanging over the patio flare to life, casting a warm, golden glow across the table. The evening air cools down. Crickets chirp in the grass nearthe fence. The smell of smoked meat and sweet barbecue sauce mixes with their natural scents of leather, amber, and bergamot.

The guys slow their frantic eating pace. They lean back in their patio chairs. Simon rests his boots on the edge of a spare seat. Kel peels the label off his empty beer bottle. Wally watches me from across the table. His soulful dark brown eyes track my every movement.

Setting my fork down, I wipe my mouth with a napkin. I place my hands flat on the glass surface of the table. "I talked to Dr. Evans this afternoon." I keep my voice steady.

Three pairs of Alpha eyes lock onto my face. The casual banter dies in an instant. The intertwined scent of worn leather, amber, and bergamot spikes in the air, reacting to the serious tone in my voice.

I look at Wally, then Kel, then Simon. "He told me bonding with you guys helps Brendan. He told me that taking your marks will nullify the pheromones for Brendan. He would no longer be able to sense my Heats."

Simon lowers his boots to the concrete. He sits up straight.

"I made my choice." I lace my fingers together. My heart hammers against my ribs. "I want a permanent pack. I want to build a compound with you. I want to spend the rest of my life taking care of Brendan with you."

Kel grips the edge of the table. His knuckles turn white under the string lights.

"I'm ready." I meet Wally's gaze. "I want to bond tonight."

Quiet stretches across the patio. The magnitude of the statement hangs in the warm summer air. The tension shatters. The intoxicating aroma of absolute Alpha devotion floods the backyard.

Wally stands up. His patio chair scrapes against the concrete. He walks around the edge of the table. He stops right beside my chair and offers his large, callused hand.

I place my palm in his. He pulls me to my feet.

Kel and Simon stand in unison. They leave their empty plates on the table. They form a solid barrier of muscle and heat behind me.

"We want exactly the same thing." Wally squeezes my fingers. His dark eyes burn with a fierce, possessive affection. "Lead the way."

Turning away from the house, I guide Wally across the lawn. Kel and Simon follow a step behind. The cool air prickles across my bare arms, but the combined body heat radiating from the three men at my back chases the chill away. The soft grass cushions my steps in the dark.

We walk toward the far corner of the yard. The crickets resume their chirping, filling the quiet night with sound. The string lights from the patio cast long, distorted shadows across the lawn, pointing the way to the old workshop.

I guide them to the wooden door of the shed. I push it inward, step inside the dark space, and flick the wall switch. The overhead bulbs hum to life, casting a warm, yellow light over the concrete floor.

Wally stops in the doorway. Kel and Simon flank him. They know this room intimately. We survived my last two Heats tangled together on a bare mattress out here, and Kel spends his free afternoons standing at these workbenches. But tonight, they freeze at the sight of the massive, overlapping nest of soft blankets and plush pillows built right in the center of the floor. The familiar scent of Kel's cedar sawdust mixes with the aroma of fresh laundry.

"I built a proper nest." I step onto the edge of the thick comforters, kicking my sandals off. "I wanted a comfortable space for us tonight. A place to claim each other and really take our time."

We step into the shed. The cool air inside the room feels miles away from the heat of the summer evening. Simon pushes the wooden door shut, blocking out the sound of the crickets. The space holds the scent of fresh cedar.

The guys stand before me. They strip off their shirts, jeans, and boxers with impatient, hungry movements. They drop the clothing onto the concrete floor, leaving them bare. I watch them, my throat going dry. Wally, Kel, and Simon stand there, their cocks thick and rigid with anticipation.

I stand by the nest. My heart hammers against my ribs. Seeing them here, fully committed to this night, makes my breath hitch. I feel the weight of their attention on me.

Wally steps toward me. He cups my face. He leans down and presses a soft, lingering kiss to my lips. He drags his mouth to my cheek, then my jaw, then my neck. He presses his lips against my pulse point, his stubble grazing my skin.