The Triplet's Bullied Mate
My three pillars of strength, my unwavering anchors in this tempest of sensation.
Theron gripped my hand tightly, his long fingers intertwining with mine, his knuckles white with the force of his hold. His dark brows were drawn low, furrowed with a mixture of intense concentration and shared pain, as if he himself were facing a fierce battle. Sweat clung to his temples, his silver hair damp, but his other hand, strong and sure, stroked my back in steady, grounding circles, a rhythm that somehow synced with my own labored breaths. His silver eyes, usually so full of mischievous light, were now clouded with worry, fixed on my face. "Breathe with me, Elowen," he urged, his voice a low, raw whis
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