“I don’t want to be cured,” I continue. “I don’t want to be someone’s political solution. I don’t want to be protected from myself.”
I step closer to Sol, ignoring the protest in his eyes as he shifts slightly.
“I want this,” I say, and this time I mean all of it. “The fire. The steadiness. The calm. The feral.”
My hand curls into the fabric at his collar and I pull him closer.
He inhales sharply, pain forgotten.
“If you’ll have me,” I say.
There is no dramatic pause.
No hesitation.
Sol’s forehead rests against mine.
“Already know I could never let you go,” he says.
Kai steps closer, one hand settling at my hip.
Koa’s palm presses warm at my lower back.
Finn moves last, but he moves.
“We choose you,” he says quietly.
The bond doesn’t snap this time.
It settles.
It’s not panic.
It’s inevitable.
FORTY-FIVE
LANI
The air doesn’t explode.It aligns.
Kai is the first to move – his hand sliding from my hip to cradle my jaw as he kisses me hard, not claiming, not competing, just sealing something that has been building for weeks. His mouth is warm and familiar and edged with that careless fire I’ve always pretended not to crave.
When he pulls back, Koa is already there.
His kiss is slower. Deeper. His hand settles at my waist, grounding, steadying the heat climbing beneath my skin. There’s no rush in him, only certainty, and it sinks into me like warmth through cold fingers.
Finn comes last.
He doesn’t grab. Doesn’t crowd.
He lifts my chin slightly and kisses me with quiet intention, the calm after the storm threaded through him even now. There is something reverent in it, something almost apologetic – but not fragile.
When he pulls back, Sol’s hand finds my throat gently and he kisses me last.
Not savage.
Not soft.