It was like… fire and honey

Their tent carried the scent of warm wine, leather, and smoke when Amarok and Geri stepped inside. Macon and Gary were already there, seated around the low table in the center, their expressions grim.

“Perfect timing,” Gary said, lifting his gaze to Amarok. “We were just talking about what happens now—with Salem and Orson gone.”

Macon poured into the cups before him and passed one toward Geri. “It’s not just about them leaving,” he said, voice low. “It’s about what it means for the rest of us. For the pack. For this prophecy.”

Geri scoffed as he sank into the seat beside Amarok. “They’ve made their decision. Let them go.”

“Yea, but at what cost”

Gary then leaned forward, his eyes flicking between the brothers. “Do you plan to tell the girls?”

That single question shifted the air in the tent.

Geri immediately flinched, his voice sharp. “Of course not! They’d bolt the second they found out.”

Amarok clenched his jaw, eyes narrowing. He didn’t reply, and that silence said more than any words ever could.

Gary pressed on. “So what happens when you take them home? When they’re standing in our territory, wearing your marks, claiming their place beside you as Luna… and then they find out?”

The weight of it dropped like a stone.

“Unless,” Gary added with a bite, “you don’t plan to take them home at all.”

No one answered. The silence in the room cracked.

Macon broke it. “It doesn’t matter if they know or not. What matters is that you both found them. Your better halves. The sooner you fulfill this destiny, the sooner you get back home—where you’re needed. Where heirs are needed.”

Geri groaned. “And there it is. Pups and heirs. That’s what you old ones think about. Always building legacies.”

“And why shouldn’t we?” Macon shot back. “You won’t lead this pack forever.”

Amarok poured himself some whiskey slowly, his voice low. “Any news on the border?”

Gary leaned back with a tired sigh. “Same tension. The West Ridge pack’s trying to push into our hunting territory again. Think they sense a weakness.”

“They won’t get far,” Amarok muttered, sipping his glass. “Not while we’re still standing.”

Later, when the others left and only the brothers remained, the fire burned low, casting warm flickers across the canvas of their tent.

Geri slumped beside his brother, running a tired hand through his hair. Then he tilted his head with a smirk.

“How did her lips taste?” he asked, voice a low tease. “I mean Tara. I bet she tastes like heaven.”

Amarok chuckled, then reached for his glass again, letting the hot bitter taste of his drink, roll on his tongue before speaking.

“It was like… fire and honey,” he said softly, eyes glazing with memory. “Soft lips… trembling, unsure… but when they pressed back into mine, gods, Geri… it was like I owned the stars.”

He leaned back, breathing out. “The way she whimpered, just a little… her breath hot against mine, her hands clinging like she didn’t want to let go.”

Geri groaned, his hand already palming his pants. “Shit… don’t do this to me. You’re killing me.”

He shifted uncomfortably, hard and needy. “It’s taking everything in me not to pin both girls down and wreck them. Especially Taylor.”

He closed his eyes and moaned. “Back in the tent earlier… she stretched up to grab that damn pouch, and her ass—fuck, her ass. Perfect, round, soft. She was showing it off like a tease, like she wanted me to take her.”

He panted, voice thick with frustration. “I almost stripped her naked right there. I wanted to bury my face in her pussy and eat until she came all over my tongue, sweet and messy. I wanted to taste her until she screamed my name and clawed my shoulders.”

Amarok barked a laugh, eyes dark with heat. “You’re drooling over what’s already yours, brother.”

“And don’t act like you don’t wish the same!” Geri snapped back. “Don’t pretend you didn’t dream of sliding Tara onto your cock and claiming her until she forgot her own name.”

Amarok raised his glass again with a lazy smirk.

Geri cursed, looking down at his pants. “Damn it! I’ve got a fucking hard-on right now!”

He stood, grumbling as he walked to the cabinet and grabbed a small bottle of oil. Amarok just sighed and sank back into the chair, grabbing a book.

“You’re not seriously—”

“Yes, I am! And you don't get to judge,” Geri cut him off, already pulling down his pants. His thick, massive cock sprang free, hard and dripping. “This is what I’ve become. Beating my own damn meat. That’s all I’ve got!”

Amarok rolled his eyes. “Better to jerk off than cheat on them.”

“Exactly,” Geri muttered as he sprawled on the bed, pouring the oil over his shaft. “Just shut up and let me dream.”

He started stroking, slow at first, eyes fluttering closed, hips lifting slightly. He imagined Taylor riding him, breasts bouncing, hair wild, moaning his name as he drove into her. His fist pumped harder.

Amarok flipped his book open and didn’t say a word. But a grin tugged at the corner of his lips.

---

*Meanwhile, On the Jet*

Salem’s fists slammed into the door again and again. “Orson!”

His voice cracked with desperation, echoing through the narrow hallway of the jet. The engines hummed beneath his feet, but all he could hear was silence.

They were flying home—alone.

Orson hadn’t said a word since they left the camp. Not one. And it was driving Salem insane.

“I’m sorry, okay?!” he cried, pressing his forehead to the door. “I didn’t mean for it to go like that! Orson, please—just open the door.”

Inside him, his Wolf had gone quiet. Curled up and hidden in the deepest parts of his mind. Guilt wrapped around him like a chain. He had forced Orson to leave. He had left their mates behind.

And now?

Now he was alone.

His mind kept playing the same memories on a loop—Tara’s soft, unreadable eyes. Taylor’s fire. The way the Frost brothers stood protective and strong. And the moment it all shattered.

The silence behind the door made his stomach turn.

Then… a sound. A strange, low noise of something shattering.

Something was off and fear gripped him.

“Orson?!”

He stepped back and rammed his shoulder into the door. Once. Twice. On the third slam, it burst open—

And what he saw made his heart beat increase.