**Paige’s POV **
I wake up before the sun. The room is dark but warm. I can hear all four of my men breathing around me, their breaths soft and even.
My mind drifts back to what happened before I passed out into the deepest sleep I think I’ve ever had. My cheeks flush as I replay every moment. I feel as though I should feel ashamed, that I should regret it, but I don’t. Not even a little. With them, it felt right. Completely, breathtakingly right.
As a woman raised in human society, I was taught that s*x is supposed to be private, monogamous, and polite. That women who stray outside those rules are cheap or desperate or broken. That sharing yourself with more than one man makes you something to whisper about. But none of that applies here, not to me, not to us.
It’s strange, realising how deeply those ideas were drilled into me. They creep into my thoughts, telling me that I should hide what I feel. But how could I hide something this real? This was more than a lust–fuelled orgy. It was connection, instinct and love. The Moon Goddess didn’t give me four mates by mistake. If she had meant for me to have one, I would have had one. She chose this, chose us.
Maybe that’s part of the slow change happening everywhere. Women are quietly starting to take back their power. To own their needs, their desires, and to stop apologising for having them. I’ve seen it in the way women talk now, how they’re beginning to reclaim pleasure as something to be proud of instead of shamed for. It’s progress, but even with that, I don’t think the world’s quite ready for this. For what I shared with my mates last night. Maybe one day women will be able to celebrate that kind of freedom openly, but right now, this will have to be my secret kind of rebellion.
I hope one day human women will realise how much they’re missing out. Because what I felt last night, the love, the safety, and the sheer power of it wasn’t something shameful. It was sacred,
I shift slightly, and my body reminds me of what we did again. Every muscle feels tender, and my skin is oversensitive in a way that’s both wonderful and exhausting. I feel gross though, the need for a shower overriding my need for more sleep. I let out a soft sigh and try to move, but Ryder stirs beside me, his arm tightening around my waist before I can slide free.
“Where are you going?” he murmurs, his voice still thick with sleep.
“Bathroom,” I whisper, brushing my fingers over his jaw. “Go back to sleep.”
He grumbles something low that I’m pretty sure isn’t even English, and his grip loosens. I climb over him carefully, wincing when I stretch, and tiptoe toward the door. The thought of standing under a shower doesn’t sound appealing anymore. My whole body feels used in the best and worst ways, and what I really want is to be clean, but I need the warmth and comfort too.
So instead of heading to the en suite, I grab my discarded bathrobe and pad downstairs to run a bath. The sound of water fills the quiet house, and I hope I don’t wake my mates up. I pour in some of the lavender bath salts I find tucked under the sink, watching the crystals dissolve. When I sink into the tub, the heat wraps around me like a hug, easing every ache until all that’s left is satisfied exhaustion.
My mind wanders again, back to the way each of them had touched me, how they’d looked at me as if I was something precious. That thought makes my chest ache in a different way. They hadn’t taken anything from me. They’d given me pieces of themselves, pieces I’ll cherish forever.
When the water cools, I drain the tub and wrap myself in a towel. The first rays of sunlight peek through the kitchen window, and I head straight for the coffee machine.
By the time the coffee’s brewing and I’ve started breakfast, opting for scrambled eggs, sausages, and toast, the sound of footsteps echoes on the stairs. Ryder appears first, shirtless, his hair tousled and his eyes still heavy with sleep. He leans against the doorframe, watching me with a lazy smile.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to waking up to this,” he says, voice rough.
I roll my eyes, but can’t keep the smile from my face. “You mean the coffee or me cooking?”
“Both,” he says, crossing the room to kiss the top of my head before stealing a sausage straight from the pan.
Callen is next, stretching as he walks in, all smug energy and cocky grin. “You look… very pleased with yourself, sweetheart,” he teases, grinning when I bat at his arm.
“I’m fine,” I say, though I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks.
“Fine?” He chuckles, stepping closer to murmur near my ear. “Are you sure about that after what we did to you last night?”
I shove him lightly, but my laugh slips out before I can stop it. “You’re impossible.”
“True,” he says, unbothered. “But you love it.”
Parker’s quiet arrival cuts through the playfulness. He wraps his arms around me from behind, pressing a soft kiss to the side of my neck. “You okay?” he asks, genuine concern in his tone.
I nod, leaning back into him. “Yeah. I’m fine, I promise.”
His arms tighten for a moment before he lets me go, and then Remy appears, his hair sticking up, and eyes soft as he takes in the scene. “You didn’t have to get up and cook,” he says with a yawn, brushing a hand over my shoulder.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I admit. “And I needed to do something normal.”
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