Sacrificed To The Triplet Alpha Kings

”You’ve been here two days,” he said quietly. ”Two days, and I’ve been trying to give you space. Trying to let you adjust. Trying to be the kind of mate that doesn’t just take what he wants the moment he sees it.”

Lilith’s heart was racing now. She could see the effort it was costing him....the tension in his jaw, the slight tremor in his hands, the way his breathing had become heavier, more labored.

”Alpha Sebastian....” she started, but he cut her off.

”I remember the last time you were in this library,” he said, his voice dropping lower. ”I remember pulling your dress up. I remember how responsive you were, how your body reacted to me even though you were terrified.” He paused, his dark eyes searching her face. ”Are you terrified now?”

Lilith couldn’t lie to him. ”I don’t know,” she whispered.

”The pull is getting worse,” he continued, his voice rough with something like pain. ”The full moon is eight days away, and every second I’m near you, it gets harder to maintain control. My wolf wants to claim you, mark you, bind you to me in ways that should scare you more than they already do.” He leaned closer, and she could feel his breath against her face. ”But you read to me. You sat there and read about witch-alpha partnerships, about vulnerability and trust, and it made me think about what it could be like if we actually had those things.”

”Sebastian, what are you....”

He kissed her before she could finish the question.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t tentative or testing. It was desperate and hungry and absolutely claiming. His mouth came down on hers with all the pent-up intensity of two days of restraint shattering at once. His hand came up to cup her face, holding her in place, and he kissed her like he was starving for her specifically, like her taste was the only thing that could satisfy the ache that had been building in him since the moment she stepped out of the carriage.

Lilith’s first instinct was to resist, but her body had other ideas. She found herself leaning into him, found her own mouth opening to deepen the kiss, found herself responding to the sheer intensity of his need with her own desperate hunger. His other hand gripped the armrest of the chair, and she realized he was holding himself back with everything he had, if he let go, if he allowed himself to take what he wanted, he wouldn’t be able to stop.

The kiss went on, deep and thorough and absolutely possessive. He tasted like tea and something spiced, and his lips were firm against hers, his tongue seeking entrance and finding it. She was drowning in him, in the sensation of being wanted this intensely, in the realization that this man....this powerful, dangerous, impossibly controlled man, was barely holding himself together because of her.

Then, with an effort that she could physically feel, Sebastian pulled back.

His breathing was ragged. His dark eyes were blazing with gold where hos wolf was trying to surface. His entire body was shaking with the force of his restraint. He pressed his forehead against hers, and she could feel him counting breaths, forcing himself to breathe, forcing himself to hold on to the human part of himself.

”I can’t,” he said roughly. ”If I don’t stop right now, I won’t be able to stop. And I promised myself....I promised you, that I wouldn’t push too hard, wouldn’t demand too much, would give you time to adjust.”

He pulled back, and the loss of his closeness felt almost physical. He stood abruptly, his hand running through his hair, his other hand gripping the back of his neck. For a moment, he just stood there, his back to her, his shoulders heaving as he worked to regain control.

Then he was gone, walking away from her with stiff, controlled movements that made it clear exactly how much that restraint was costing him.

Lilith sat in the chair, her hand coming to her lips, the taste of him still burning there, her entire body trembling in the aftermath.

***

The moment Sebastian opened the door to his room, he found Lucian sprawled across his bed like he’d been waiting there for hours. Lucian took one look at Sebastian’s state...hair disheveled, shirt wrinkled, breathing still labored, the obvious strain of barely-maintained control etched across his entire body....and a slow, knowing smile spread across his face.

It wasn’t a nice smile. It was the smile of someone who understood exactly what had happened, who could scent it in the air, who knew precisely what his brother had just done to himself trying to hold back.

Sebastian didn’t acknowledge him. He couldn’t. If he opened his mouth right now, he’d either scream or lose what little control he had left. He walked straight to the bathroom and slammed the door behind him, leaning back against it for a moment, his entire body shaking.

He turned the shower to cold, as cold as it would go...and stepped under the spray without undressing first, water immediately soaking through his shirt and trousers. The shock of it was supposed to help, was supposed to cool the burning in his blood, was supposed to give him some purchase on sanity.

It didn’t work.

He stripped off his wet clothes with jerky, desperate movements and stood under the near-freezing water, letting it cascade over him, trying to shock his system into some semblance of control. But the cold did nothing to diminish the memory of her mouth, the taste of her still on his lips, the desperate ache in his chest.

His hand found his cock, and he didn’t hesitate. There was no point in prolonging this, no point in trying to maintain dignity when he was alone. He stroked himself with the kind of desperate intensity that came from weeks of restraint suddenly cracking, from proximity to his mate combined with the demands of the curse and the knowledge that he couldn’t have what he needed.

Not yet. Not without pushing too hard, not without breaking her again.

The thought of her made it worse. The memory of her reading to him, of her body responding to his kiss, of the taste of her mouth...it all combined into something that built rapidly toward an edge he couldn’t control.

”Fuck,” he muttered, his hand moving faster, his hips thrusting up into the grip of his own hand, chasing release like it was the only thing that mattered.