Page 58 of Pack’s Prize

“I really can’t see?” I asked, for the millionth time, but he didn’t answer, just shook his head no, smiling, his eyes flicking between me and the canvas, not really paying attention to me, only looking at the shifting patterns of light and shadow. It wasn’t the first time I’d caught him looking at me this way: his focus was different when he was sketching. “Hey,” I said, and he finally met my eyes.

“You cannot, not until it is complete,” he started, sighing.

“That wasn’t what I was going to say,” I said, a breath of laughter on my lips. “I get it. I was going to say that I’m proud of you, Theo. This is a big deal, and I’m excited.”

“You just want to get your picture made,” he deflected.

“Theo. Really. I’m proud.”

I was. I’d learned more about the three men I’d chosen over the past few months: About Michael and Theo’s travels, about Theo’s heartbreak, his family in France, that he hadn’t visited in years. Elias had even introduced me to his parents when they visited, a sweet couple who had embraced me as if I were their own daughter as he stood by, blushing and proud. His mother, tall and blonde like her son, had whispered in my ear as they’d left for the airport, telling me she’d never seen Elias like this. “He’s always been a little soft for an alpha,” she said fondly. “Sensitive. That’s why his artists are such a good fit for him.”

I hadn’t thought about it in that way, but now that she’d said it, I could see that she was right. He might have seemed like an odd match for Michael and Theo, but he was a grounding force for them. Their artistic temperaments allowed him to provide an emotional support for all of us in a way that would have been seen as weak, in a different pack with different alphas.

“You’re good for him, and he’ll take care of you,” she’d concluded, and smiled down at me. “And the children, when they come.”

I blushed, but didn’t deny it. I couldn’t; I’d been thinking about that day more often myself recently.

“Yes, whatever that is you’re thinking of, it’s perfect,” Theo said now, cutting through my wandering thoughts. His brush moved fast over the canvas.

* * *

“I’ve always thoughtthat painting someone is the second best way you can really get into someone’s mind,” Theo said.

I’d slipped into a meditative stillness as he had painted me, feeling the light shift over my body as the hours–many more than his promised one–had passed.

“Mmm,” I said, not really listening. I was warm, and sleepy, and halfway dreaming although I was awake. “What’s the first way?”

“A mating bond, of course,” he said, and my breath caught for a moment.

We’d talked about it. With our history, how could we not. But…

“I don’t know what that’s like, obviously, but I think this,” he gestured to his canvas, to himself, to me, “must be something like it.”

They had offered to claim me right away, that night we’d gone to Ardor once again and I’d dragged them home and into Michael’s oversized bed and urged them closer and closer until I wasn’t sure where any one of us ended or began.

I had wanted to be ready, so badly I could practically taste it, but I hadn’t been. Not quite yet. I had known there were still conversations to be had. With me, but also… the three alphas had a lot of things to talk about, I had come to realize during my time with them. There were topics they’d never broached, that they had carefully avoided for all their years together. I’d chided them at first, wondering why these men who were so good at communicating with each other, their needs and desires and boundaries, had never talked about their inner lives, but…

Living as apartof them rather than a temporary guest also meant that I saw the work that went into being three alphas together. The constant negotiating around instincts and baser natures, the careful deference and apologies and constant discussion.

“Oh, it’ssomuch easier now,” Michael had said, his eyes wide, when I’d mentioned it one time, the two of us sitting on the couch sharing a bottle of wine. “God, you think it’s worknow?” He huffed out a laugh. “You should have seen us five years ago. We fought every day, and when we weren’t fighting, we were fucking each other’s brains out. And when we weren’t fucking, we were fighting again. It was…” he shuddered, and I laughed. “It got easier, obviously, over time, but…” He swirled his wine, staring into the deep red liquid. “I’m not just saying this. Iwouldn’tjust say this, I hope you know that, but, really… it was you that made the difference.”

Now, with Theo still behind the canvas, wiping his brushes on a soft, paint-smudged cloth, I knew.

“I’m ready,” I said.

“I bet you are,” he laughed, “you’ve been very patient with me, darling, aperfectmodel.Merci.”

“That’s not what I meant, Theo,” I said, my stomach flip flopping. He froze, staring at the brush in his hand for a moment.

“You are?” he asked, looking up from his cloth to my eyes.

I nodded.

“Oh,Ava,” he said, and came to me, pulling me to my feet. The sheet he’d draped around my naked form fell away, leaving me exposed. His hands held mine tightly, and when he looked into my eyes, the artist had gone: the red-gold glint was all alpha. “Are you sure?”

I nodded again.

“Say it,” he whispered, the tip of his nose tracing the curve of my ear. “Tell me what you want.”