Sol is closest. Even injured, he’s steady, one hand resting at my waist as if he’s simply claiming the right to be near. His thumb strokes slowly, absent-minded and grounding.
“We know,” Finn says softly. “You’re clear.”
“I am.” I breathe in carefully. The air is thick now – salt and smoke and caramel and chocolate and rain – and beneath it all something new unfurls.
My scent.
It blooms slowly, like something that’s been waiting years for permission.
Coconut water – light and fresh, almost cool against the warmth building in my blood. Salted jasmine – delicate and ocean-touched. Warm sandalwood – sun-soaked and grounding, like driftwood left to dry after the tide.
Kai inhales first, almost unconsciously.
“God,” he murmurs, and then catches himself. “Sorry.”
Koa’s voice is quieter. “It’s…beautiful.”
I swallow.
No one has ever…this is…my scent.Myscent. Hell, I’m not sure I evenhadone before. Some say betas have a faint scent, but I’ve never really noticed. So to suddenly be told I smell beautiful…it’s a lot. But in the best way possible.
But he’s not wrong. The smell isamazing. And it’s complemented by theirs perfectly. It’s summer sun and the ocean and s’mores and campfires and that uniquely fresh scent after a summer storm all wrapped up together in perfection. I wish I could bottle this smell and drown in it.
The warmth deepens, and suddenly my clothes feel wrong. Too heavy. Too structured. The cotton of my shirt brushes against my skin and it’s like sandpaper against something newly exposed.
I tug at the hem without thinking.
All four of them notice.
Heat floods my cheeks, sudden and fierce. “It’s too much,” I whisper. “Sorry.”
Finn steps closer, but he doesn’t touch me yet. “Too warm?”
“Too…everything.” I look down. “The fabric. It feels like it’s in the way. It’s all wrong. I hate it.”
There’s a brief glance exchanged between them – silent, measured.
Then Finn reaches for the hem of his own shirt and pulls it off in one smooth movement.
Kai doesn’t hesitate. His shirt follows. Koa next. Sol slower, careful of the bandage at his side, but just as certain.
My breath catches. Not because they’re bare. Because they did it first. Because they made it safe.
“You don’t have to,” Koa says gently when I don’t move right away.
Kai’s voice is lighter, but softer than usual. “We’re not going anywhere.”
Sol’s gaze doesn’t leave my face. “Only when you’re ready.”
My heart thuds harder at that.
I reach for my shirt again, fingers trembling slightly, and pull it over my head.
The moment the air touches my skin I gasp softly.
It’s a relief. Immediate. Clean. Like stepping into water after standing too long in the midday heat.
My scent blooms stronger in response – the coconut and jasmine deepening, sandalwood warming as slick gathers slowly between my thighs, subtle but undeniable.