I had created a monster.
Or rather, five monsters, all obsessed with a simple hand game. Ever since I had introduced rock paper scissors to settle who would bathe with me, my mates had applied the method to every disagreement, every decision, every minor conflict that arose in our crowded household.
"No, that’s not fair Ravin," Soryn hissed, his serpent eyes narrowed with frustration. "You already shared a bed with Krys last night. It’s one of our turns."
"But we agreed, did we not, to settle it with rock paper scissors?" Ravin pointed out, his massive arms crossed over his chest, his golden eyes gleaming with victory. "I won fair and square."
"But brother, that isn’t fair," Leon growled, his claws flexing with irritation.
"I agree with Ravin, though," Caelion added softly, his sea-glass eyes downcast, "even if I’m sad it’s not me. Ravin won with the method we agreed on. We should honor that."
"We could always go back to the original method," I sighed, feeling the headache building behind my eyes. "Going by your turns."
"But Krys," Leon pouted, his lower lip pushing out in a gesture that was utterly ridiculous on a grown lion, "that still ends in Ravin’s favor. If we go by the rotations... it’s Ravin’s turn anyway."
"Well, you guys need to figure that out," I declared, throwing my hands up in surrender. "I’m going to Rhonda’s house."
I decided to take only Chase and Ryder. Jasper was asleep in his favorite sunbeam, and Atlas had attached himself to Ravin’s leg, whining to stay with his father. Two cubs would be manageable. Four would be a circus.
It had been two weeks. I was fully healed now, the last of the bruises faded from my skin, the soreness between my legs finally gone. I could walk without wincing, sit without shifting, breathe without remembering Veylan’s desperation. The cubs were exactly twelve weeks old today; three months, and tonight would be their first taste of real meat, finely chopped and minced until it was soft enough for their small teeth. It was a milestone Ravin and I had been anticipating with equal parts excitement and trepidation.
I reached Rhonda’s house to find Layla already there, the two of them collapsed in each other’s arms, deep in thought and loud laughter that rang through the clearing.
"What did I miss?" I asked, approaching with Chase and Ryder tumbling ahead of me.
"Oh, Krys! Come here!" Layla beckoned, her face flushed with happiness.
Once I sat, Rhonda’s face lit up with a glow I had never seen before. "Oh my, Krys," she breathed, her eyes glossing over with distant memory, "I tried what you taught us." She paused, shivering visibly. "It felt magical. It was hard to describe... like flying and drowning at the same time. Like the gods themselves were touching me."
We sat and talked more, trading stories and secrets, Chase and Ryder wrestling with Rhonda’s cubs in the grass. Then Layla’s mate appeared, a massive horse beast with gentle eyes, leaning down to whisper in her ear. But his whisper was loud enough for all of us to hear: "I want to do that thing we did earlier."
Layla’s smile turned wicked, her eyes sparkling. "Well, that’s my calling," she said, rising and smoothing her fir wraps. "I’ll see you guys later. My mate wants me."
"Go enjoy yourself," I told her, laughing as she practically skipped away, her mate’s hand possessive on her lower back.
Rhonda and I talked more, but soon her own mate appeared in the doorway, his panther eyes heavy with intent, and I knew it was time to leave. I called Chase and Ryder, who whined and protested, and walked home with the sunset painting the sky in shades of gold and rose.
My mates had apparently come to a decision. They stood in a line before our door, five proud males, and Leon stepped forward with a bow that was only slightly mocking.
"We have decided to honor the rock paper scissors," he announced, his voice formal despite his pout. "Ravin has won. We admit defeat."
Ravin’s smile was pure triumph, his chest puffed, his golden eyes gleaming with victory as he set the table for dinner and minced the meat for our cubs. He worked with careful precision, chopping the venison into tiny pieces no larger than grains of rice, then grinding them further with the flat of his blade until the meat was soft as paste.
The cubs gathered around the low wooden bowl, their noses twitching, their tails wagging with uncertain excitement. This was new, this was different, this was not their mother’s milk.
"Go on," I encouraged, kneeling beside them. "Try it."
Jasper was first, his pink tongue darting out to taste the smallest morsel. His eyes went wide, round as moons, and then he was diving in, his whole face in the bowl, lapping and swallowing with desperate enthusiasm. The others followed; Atlas shouldering his way in, Chase and Ryder chirping with delight as they discovered this new delicious thing.
They licked the bowl clean, every scrap, every drop, their small bellies round and full, their faces smeared with grease and happiness. They nuzzled against Ravin’s legs afterward, purring and chirping their gratitude, their first taste of meat marking them as growing predators, no longer just helpless infants.
It was a milestone, a moment, a memory I would treasure.
After we cleaned up and put the cubs to bed, Leon came up to me. "I will sleep in your room tonight," he offered, he smiled with genuine care, "to watch the cubs. So you can go to Ravin’s room. Sleep well. Or don’t." He winked, and I laughed.
Ravin’s room was on the far side of the house, private, spacious, dominated by a bed large enough for his lion form. He lit candles as I entered, filling the space with warm, flickering light and the scent of honey and amber.
Once I was inside, he took my hand and guided me to his bed, the furs soft and inviting beneath my fingertips. He laid me down with gentle reverence, his eyes never leaving mine, and then he joined me, his body covering mine with warmth and weight.
He played the gentle lover tonight, my lion prince, my first mate, my heart.
He kissed me slowly, his lips soft and warm against mine, his hands tracing my body with reverent care. He caressed my breasts, kneading with perfect pressure, his thumbs brushing my nipples until they peaked against his palms. Every touch was deliberate, designed to build pleasure layer by layer.
"You’re so beautiful," he murmured against my throat, his mouth trailing fire down my collarbone, my shoulder, my breast. "So perfect. So mine."
He found my good spot with his fingers, rubbing slow, devastating circles while his mouth claimed mine, swallowing my moans, drinking my pleasure. I arched against him, whimpering, already close, already desperate.
"Ravin, please," I begged.
"Not yet," he whispered, his voice rough with restraint. "Let me enjoy you. Let me make this last."
He turned me gently on the bed, guiding me to my hands and knees, positioning me so I was braced against the soft furs. He kissed down my spine, his tongue tracing each vertebra, his hands massaging my hips, my thighs, the curve of my ass. Then he positioned himself behind me, the thick head of his cock nudging against my entrance, hot and heavy and perfect.
He pushed into me slowly, inch by inch, letting me feel every vein, every pulse, every bit of his heat as he filled me completely. I gasped, my fingers clutching the bedding, my back arching as he bottomed out, his hips flush against mine, his groan vibrating through my body.
"So tight," he rasped, his hands gripping my waist. "So perfect. You feel like heaven, Krys. Like coming home."
He began to move, slow, deep thrusts that hit that perfect spot inside me with every stroke. He wasn’t rushing, wasn’t desperate, wasn’t taking. He was savoring, worshipping, loving me with his body in a rhythm that made my body hum with pleasure.
His hand found my clit, rubbing in time with his thrusts, and I was moaning, keening, pushing back against him to take him deeper, harder, more.
"That’s it," he growled, his pace increasing just slightly, just enough. "Let me hear you. Let me feel you. Come for me, Krys. Come with me."
I shattered, my body convulsing around him, my release flooding through me in waves that seemed endless. He followed me over the edge, his thrusts becoming erratic, his grip bruising, his roar of completion echoing off the walls as he spilled inside me, hot and endless, marking me as his once again.
We collapsed together, tangled in furs and limbs and love. He gathered me close, his arms wrapping around me like a fortress, his heartbeat steady against my back. I smiled, feeling safe and sated, and closed my eyes, letting sleep claim me while held in his embrace.
---
I woke to a flying projectile landing square on my stomach, knocking the wind from my lungs in a violent whoosh.
"Oof!" I gasped, my eyes flying open to find Chase sprawled across my chest, his small tongue lolling, his tail wagging with morning enthusiasm. Behind him, Atlas, Ryder, and Jasper tumbled through the doorway like a furry avalanche, their combined weight considerable, their energy boundless, except for Jasper, who immediately flopped onto his side and closed his eyes, playing dead rather than expending effort.
They were the size of small pugs now, solid and heavy, still growing every day, their paws too big for their bodies, their coordination nonexistent. Chase stood on my chest, his full weight pressing down, and I wheezed, "Off, off, you little monster, I need to breathe."
They were hungry. I could tell by the way they nosed at me, chirping and whining, their small bodies vibrating with need. I pulled down my top, and they scrambled, four furry heads pushing and shoving, trying to latch on, claws scratching my skin in their desperation.
"Two at a time," I warned, grabbing Chase and Atlas by their scruffs and positioning them. "And easy. No biting or no milk for you."
They latched on with suction that would have been impressive on a vacuum, their small throats working, their eyes closing in bliss. Ryder and Jasper waited their turn with impatient whimpers, though Jasper’s whimpers were half-hearted at best, more dramatic sigh than actual complaint.
After they finished, bellies round and eyes sleepy, Ravin appeared in the doorway, his hair mussed from sleep, his expression resigned. "Come on, little beasts," he called. "Time to clean those teeth."
The cubs looked at him, except Jasper, who didn’t bother opening his eyes, and scattered.
What followed was pure chaos. Ravin lunged for Chase, who darted under the bed, emerging on the other side with a triumphant yip. Leon joined the fray, trying to corner Ryder, who became a furry torpedo, shooting between legs, under furniture, anywhere hands couldn’t reach. Soryn slithered in, attempting to use his tail to corral Atlas, who simply climbed the tail like a rope and launched himself onto Soryn’s head with a chirp of victory.
Jasper, meanwhile, remained exactly where he was, completely limp, playing dead with theatrical commitment. Caelion approached him with the branch brush, knelt down, and pried his mouth open while Jasper "slept," his tongue lolling, his body floppy as a fish. He didn’t fight, didn’t protest, simply accepted his fate with the boneless resignation of the truly lazy.
Each mate claimed one cub, wrestling them into submission, holding them between knees while trying to scrub fangs with salt paste. The sounds were incredible, yowls, growls, curses, laughter, the snap of teeth on wood, the splatter of paste on walls.
I sat on the bed, watching my four males wrestle my three energetic cubs and one completely limp cactus, and I laughed until tears streamed down my face, my stomach aching, my heart full.
Veylan had already left, his sense of duty driving him to patrol the village at dawn, but I imagined he would have been in the thick of it, silver hair tangled, dignity abandoned, another warrior defeated by small, furry chaos.
It was perfect. It was home. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.