Trap of the King Alpha Triplet

Emily.

Consciousness returns slowly, like honey dripping from a tree. My lashes weighted and sticky. The world swims into focus, all fuzzy edges and muted colors. A figure looms at my bedside, tall and broad-shouldered. Dark hair, golden skin, the angular slash of a jaw...

"Leo?" I croak, my voice merely a thin rasp.

The figure leans closer, features sharpening. Not Leo. Glacier-blue eyes instead of molten amber, piercing glinting in the firelight.

It is Logan.

Something clenches in my chest, a barb of disappointment laced with relief. Part of me had hoped... but no. Leo isn't here.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty." Logan's smile is a softer thing than I'm used to. "Welcome back to the land of the living."

I struggle to sit up, my limbs weak and uncooperative as overcooked spaghetti. Logan's hands are gentle as he helps me, his touch professional and impersonal as he props a pillow behind my shoulders. "How long was I out?" I managed to ask, my tongue thick and clumsy in my mouth.

Logan's expression sobers. "Two days. You've been drifting in and out, mostly unresponsive. Scared the hell out of us."

Two days. Jesus. I try to process that, to fill in the gaping black hole of my memory. The last thing I remember is pain, Eartha's frenzied howling, Joelle's cool hands on my fever-scorched skin...

"The rogue." I swallow hard against the surge of bile in my throat. "What happened to him?"

Logan's jaw tightens. "Leo and Luca are taking care of him. That bastard is barely hanging on to life."

I don't want to feel gratitude. Don't want to feel anything for the triplets beyond wary animosity. But some small, treacherous part of me unclenches at the knowledge that they didn't let my violation go unanswered.

Silence stretches between us. I pick at a loose thread on the quilt, my tongue dry and leaden in my mouth. I'm abruptly, acutely aware of my bare skin against the sheets, the thin barrier of a too-big t-shirt and cotton underwear all that separates me from Logan's assessing gaze.

"My clothes," I must be blushing, "Did Joelle...?"

An odd expression flickers across Logan's face, something caught between amusement and chagrin. "Ah. No. That was Leo, actually."

A hazy memory surfaces, almost surreal. Lying limp and delirious on the bed, helpless as a rag doll while strong hands peeled away the tattered remnants of my dress. The rasp of calluses against my overheated skin, the searing trail of fingertips skimming the lace edge of my bra...

I squeeze my eyes shut. God. Leo undressed me. Saw me fucking naked while I was too far gone to protest.

The worst part? I remembered that I had fucking liked it. Craved his touch even through the haze of pain, arched into the barely-there brush of his hands like a cat in heat.

What is wrong with me?

No. I can't think about that. It's the drug, the remnants of the serum still polluting my blood. It has to be.

"Hey." Logan's voice is uncharacteristically soft, almost gentle. "He was just trying to help. You were burning up in that dress, sweating right through the fabric. If it had been Luca or me, we would've done the same thing." I know he's right.

"I don't..." My throat closes up, choking off the words. I instinctively want to thank them. But...No. I don't want to be grateful. Don't want to feel indebted to them, to him. But I am, and I do, and it's just one more fucking thing I can't control.

Logan raises his eyebrows, "Start failing for Leo?"

The irony in his words irritates me as he knows everything about me. He does not. He knows nothing about me.

I'm a hybrid, an outsider tolerated but never truly accepted. And the triplets? They're not my saviors or my champions or my mates, no matter what Moon Goddess decrees.

They're my stepbrothers. My reluctant roommates. Three dominant, dangerous males who've made it their mission to break me since the moment I crossed their threshold.

The fact that they played hero for a night doesn't change that. Doesn't magically erase the months of torment, the cruel words and crueler touches. I won't let one act of basic decency blind me to the true nature of our relationship. "No." I said. "And this is not funny."

Logan stares at me for a moment. "You are lying, Emily."

I meet his gaze head-on "No, I am not."

An uncomfortable silence falls. And underneath it all, like a whisper in a crowded room, a slow-dawning realization starts to take shape.

Eartha is quiet. Too quiet. The place in my mind where she usually lurks, all restless energy and simmering instinct, is hollow. Echoing. Empty.

I reach for her across the bond that's tethered us since birth. No response, nothing there. Just a yawning void where my wolf should be. "Eartha?" I call out across the mindscape. "Are you there?"

Silence. Stillness. Gone.

A wounded noise spills from my lips, Logan stands up. "Emily? What's wrong?"

I shake my head, "She's not there," I choke out, "Eartha. I can't feel her."

Logan goes still. Then I see he is sniffing. A deep furrow appears between Logan's brows, "That's not... maybe it's the drugs? The tranqs Joelle gave you, or the aftermath of the serum? It could be short-circuiting your connection temporarily." But I can hear the uncertainty threading through his voice. Something is wrong. Fundamentally, terribly wrong.

"Emily." Logan takes a step towards me, "I'll give you some space," he says, "Joe will be in to check on you soon."

And then he's gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

I curl onto my side, drawing my knees to my chest like a child. I find hot tears slip down my cheeks, soaking into the pillowcase beneath my head.

Why am I crying?

Eartha is silent again. That means I am not The King Triplets' mate anymore. Isn't it just what I have always wanted?

Why does it hurt so much?