Chapter 9| Two Bodies. No Release

Theo’s POV

“Well… I see what’s going on here,” I muttered, dragging a hand through my hair, the ends still damp from the shower, my eyes locked on both of them as they stood there with matching smiles that made my jaw tighten.

They’d planned this. Of course they had. They always did whenever I came back from war bruised, half-mad with rage, my hands still shaking from blood that wasn’t yet mine to clean off. It was like a twisted tradition, one they had turned into a kind of game. 

They knew what I was like after battle, always needing something to take the edge off—and they offered themselves like they were doing me a favor.

I wasn’t in love with either of them. I didn’t even care about them most days. But they were good—too good and that’s why I kept them around.

“You two always have perfect timing,” I said under my breath as I moved toward the bed, my eyes on Joan, who was already spread out like a reward, her skin flushed and her lips slightly parted like she’d been waiting all night.

I grabbed her hair and pulled it back slowly, tilting her head just enough to watch her reaction. She gasped softly, and her eyes fluttered as her lips curved into something between a smirk and a plea.

“Say it,” I growled, tightening my grip just enough to make her eyes flutter.

“Do whatever you want to me, Daddy,” she whispered, her voice almost too sweet to be real. The words hit me like a punch to the gut, not because I hadn’t heard them before, but because something in her voice made the whole thing feel darker.

Like she wasn’t just giving herself to me but offering something broken and beautiful, like she wanted me to destroy her if it meant feeling something real. Christabel stood beside me now, quiet but watching everything. 

She was always the fierce one, the mouthy one, the one who wanted to bite before she begged. Joan was slower, softer, like honey dripping off a blade, and between the two of them, I felt like I was being pulled apart.

“You’re tense again, Alpha,” she whispered, lips brushing the shell of my ear like a secret, “Let us fix that.”

“Now spread your legs,” I said lowly, not asking, just commanding. Joan moved without a word, slow and smooth, like she lived to obey. Her legs parted, and her breath caught when I touched her, my fingers pressing down in circles that made her tremble. 

She was already wet, already shaking, her moans soft at first, then louder as I rubbed harder, her voice filling the room in waves that made it hard to think. 

Christabel’s hand slid around me from behind, bold as always, her fingers wrapping around me with slow confidence like she wanted to show me just how well she remembered what I liked. Her touch was steady, teasing, and it sent a sharp pulse through my whole body.

I clenched my jaw, trying to hold on to whatever control I still had, but it was slipping fast. Everything about this was pulling me under—the sounds Joan was making.

The way Christabel’s breath brushed my shoulder, the way both of them moved like they’d rehearsed it a thousand times just to ruin me perfectly. Joan moaned again, louder now, and my hand kept working between her legs, fast and steady, watching how she came undone so easily. 

She always went first, always the one they let lead like some silent rule between them. Christabel was older, stronger, but for some reason I never cared to understand, she always let Joan break first.

And maybe I liked it that way.

I pulled my hand away and grabbed Joan’s thighs, dragging her closer until her back arched and her body trembled again. She looked up at me like she was already gone, like she wanted me to take whatever was left of her.

Behind me, Christabel’s breath hitched. Her hand was still moving slowly, and her voice was low in my ear when she said, “Don’t hold back… she’s ready for it.”

They both were.

And I was far past the point of mercy.

I took her without hesitation, like she was mine by right—not because I wanted connection, not because I felt anything real—but because at that moment, she was simply there, open and willing, and I needed a release from the storm inside me.

Joan cried out beneath me, her voice rising like she wanted to be heard across the entire damn pack house, her body trembling with every movement I made against her skin. She screamed my name, over and over, like it meant something.

“Harder, Daddy! Please!”

I barely heard her. The words were noise, useless and wild and I wasn’t about to take orders from the same mouth that begged to be used. My jaw tightened as I leaned into her, slamming harder, rougher, ignoring every sound except the one inside me that refused to go quiet.

“Shut the fuck up,” I muttered, low and cold, my breath hot against her ear as her cries choked into silence, her body jerking beneath mine like she couldn't handle what she'd asked for.

I pulled out without a word, pushed her aside like a worn-out thought, and turned to Christabel who was already waiting for me on the bed. She didn’t speak. She didn’t ask. She just looked up at me, dark eyes glowing with challenge and desire, and she leaned in for a kiss that was all fire.

I kissed her back, rough and deep, tasting her need, her heat, her hunger for control. Then I grabbed her waist and turned her the way I wanted—on her knees.

Hands flat against the sheets, her back arched with intention like she knew exactly what I needed to take from her.

But I didn’t move yet.

I watched her first, letting the moment stretch, letting her body shake under the weight of my stillness. I slid my fingers between her thighs, slow at first, just enough to make her gasp. Her body reacted instantly, like it had been craving this all night. 

Her moans came quiet, breathy, and low, but I felt every sound pulse through me like heat under my skin. “You always this ready for me?” I asked, my voice low as I leaned close to her ear, my hand still moving, still building the tension.

“You already know the answer to that,” she whispered, smirking over her shoulder, and her voice sent a sharp rush through my blood.

But the fire wasn’t enough.

Not for what was broken inside me.

I took her the way I knew would make her scream, hard and fast, my fingers digging into her hips as the bed creaked beneath us, her voice rising with every thrust like she wanted the whole world to know who was inside her.

And then I saw her—Joan, curled at the foot of the bed, her fingers moving between her legs again as she watched me with glassy eyes that didn’t blink once. Her gaze never left mine, dark and hungry, like watching me ruin her sister was the only thing she wanted.

It should’ve pushed me over the edge.

It should’ve made me come undone.

But it didn’t.

That same emptiness rose up inside me, sharp and choking, swallowing every drop of heat that tried to build. Christabel was moaning beneath me, her voice thick with pleasure, her body shaking with every move I made, but I couldn’t finish—I never could. 

No matter how close I got, something always pulled me back.

I stopped.

Pulled away.

Walked out of the room without a word as their voices faded behind me, swallowed by silence. The bathroom door clicked shut behind me, and I leaned back against the cold wall, heart pounding, not from desire but from something far darker.

There was something wrong with me. Always had been. Ever since I came of age, I could never finish—not with anyone. Not with any touch. Not even with pain. 

Every time the climax came close, my mind dragged me back to that night, to that fire, to my pack screaming as they were slaughtered in front of me while I ran, too weak to help, too young to fight.

It never made sense, not even to me. And there was no way in hell I could say it out loud, because what kind of Alpha can’t even mate right?

So I stayed quiet.

Carried it.

Lived with it.

Let it rot me from the inside out, one broken night at a time. My skin was still damp, chest rising and falling slowly as I leaned against the bathroom counter. I stroked my member slowly, patient and steady, the way I had to if I was ever going to reach that edge. 

I knew it wouldn’t be quick. It never was. My mind had to go blank. My heart had to stop remembering. But I wasn’t empty tonight.

As my breathing slowed, my thoughts drifted somewhere else. Not to Joan. Not to Christabel. No, not them.

It was her.

Daphne.