Roxy smiled, knowing they were definitely going to show up.

Men.

The frigid air bit at Roxy’s bare skin for only a fleeting second before the thick, enveloping steam of the thermal stream wrapped around her like a warm blanket.

She did not rush. She did not dive beneath the surface to hide her body from the biting cold or the burning, predatory gazes she knew were fixed upon her.

Roxy stepped gracefully off the flowery bank, her toes sinking into the smooth, submerged river pebbles. The geothermal water was exquisitely hot, rising to her calves, her thighs, and finally stopping just above her hips.

The pale, ethereal light of the winter moon hit the water, casting a mesmerising, rippling glow across her skin.

She stood in the shallows, the dark, steaming water swirling around her. She looked like an absolute goddess.

Roxy did not turn her back on them. She did not sink deeper into the water to cover her chest. She did not cross her arms in a display of demure shyness.

Instead, the Matriarch of the Vanguard turned around.

She squared her shoulders, her back perfectly straight, completely unashamed of her body. The moonlight illuminated the soft, heavy swell of her breasts and the beautiful, pronounced curve of her pregnant belly just above the waterline.

She raised her chin, her brilliant, wet green eyes piercing the dark treeline, fearlessly meeting the blazing, hungry gazes of the five Alpha Kings hidden within.

For a single, suspended heartbeat, the forest was entirely silent, save for the gentle lapping of the thermal water against the rocks.

And then, the Warlords stepped out from the shadows.

As if just by watching her wasn’t enough, their bodies were moving on their own, their arousal straining against their silk trousers like it was threatening to tear them to tatters.

The crunch of their massive boots against the grass echoed in the quiet night. Zarek, Kaelen, Torian, Syris, and Caspian emerged from the treeline, forming a wall of muscle at the edge of the bank.

The profound hurt, the sense of betrayal, and the deep, festering anger that had kept them isolated for three days were still there, flickering in the depths of their eyes.

But as they looked at her standing bare in the steaming water, those emotions were entirely overpowered by a wave of pure lust.

They wanted to devour her.

No matter how many times she gave birth, she would always awaken the feral beast inside them.

She was carrying a child, her body softened and rounded by the pregnancy, but to the primal, biological instincts of the Alpha Kings, she had never, ever looked more devastatingly sexy.

The swell of her belly was the ultimate, undeniable proof of their successful claiming, a biological beacon that drove their possessive mating instincts into absolute overdrive.

They wanted to breed her.

As they stared down at her defiant, beautiful face, the final, stubborn wall of their pride completely shattered.

Roxy wasn’t mocking their pain.

She wasn’t using a cheap, manipulative trick to simply win an argument. She was stripping herself bare, stepping into the freezing night, and offering herself up to remind them of the one thing they had been most terrified of losing.

She was showing them that she was alive. She was warm. She was physical, she was breathing, and she was entirely, undeniably theirs.

She had returned from the Heavens not as a sterile, hollow Vessel, but as a passionate woman who hungered for them just as violently as they hungered for her.

Zarek was the first to break the line.

The Dragon King had been the one to grab Torian’s arm in the shadows, the one who had growled that the Tiger Alpha was too weak to hold his composure. But looking at his Matriarch standing in the moonlight, offering herself with such fearless audacity, the Dragon entirely lost his mind.

He was the one leading the harem, of course, he should touch her first.

A/N: Pride.

Zarek stepped forward, his hands reaching up to grip the collar of his dark tunic. With a sharp pull, he ripped the fabric entirely over his head, discarding it carelessly onto the grass floor.

His muscled chest was heaving with deep, jagged pants.

He didn’t stop at the tunic. Zarek’s large hands went to the buckle of his trousers. He unfastened them and let them drop, completely shedding the rest of his garments.

He stood at the edge of the bank entirely bare, completely unashamed of his massive, towering physique. And he was certainly not ashamed of the thick, heavy, and absolutely rock-hard length of his arousal jutting proudly from his groin, a terrifying, undeniable physical manifestation of his pure, feral need for her.

Roxy watched with a teasing smile as she continued to play with the water.

Behind him, Torian’s jaw clenched so tightly a loud pop echoed from his teeth.

The White Tiger Alpha’s bright blue eyes narrowed into slits as he watched the Dragon King claim the first approach. Torian’s feline tail lashed violently against the grass behind him, his massive hands curling into tight, trembling fists.

"Who is the impatient one now?" Torian whispered to himself, his voice vibrating with a dangerously pissed-off, guttural rumble. He had been agonisingly close to breaking cover just minutes ago, only to be held back by the very Warlord who was now stripping bare and walking toward the water.

Before Torian could let his furious tiger instincts take over and charge past the Dragon, a heavy, freezing hand clamped firmly down onto his broad shoulder.

Kaelen stood beside him, the King of the North’s icy blue eyes fixed unwaveringly on Roxy. Kaelen’s breathing was just as shallow, his own chest heaving beneath his furs, his jaw set in a rigid line of barely contained Warlord lust.

"Be calm, White Tiger," Kaelen commanded softly, his deep, rumbling voice entirely entirely thick with a possessive, dark promise that sent a shiver through the freezing air. "Do not let your temper ruin the hunt. Let the Dragon break the ice. We will still have her."

At the edge of the bank, Zarek didn’t hesitate for another second.

The Dragon King stepped directly off the snow and into the thermal stream. The moment his blistering, superheated skin made contact with the water, a massive hiss of expanding steam violently erupted around his calves.

Zarek waded forward. The dark water rose his massive thighs, but he didn’t feel the heat. He didn’t feel anything except the magnetic pull of the woman standing a few feet away.

Roxy didn’t back away. She stood her ground. The smell of him was getting thicker the closer he came, wrapping around her mind.

Zarek waded deeper until the water reached his waist. He stopped just inches away from her wet skin.

The towering height difference was staggering. Roxy had to tilt her head back to look up at his face. The steam curled thickly around them, creating a private, secluded haven in the middle of the stream.

Zarek looked down at her. He saw the flush of arousal on her cheeks, the rapid pulse beating at the base of her throat, and the fire in her beautiful green eyes. She had completely bypassed his logic, completely shattered his stubborn pride, and completely brought him to his knees without uttering a single word.

A low, deep, and incredibly feral rumble began to vibrate in the center of Zarek’s massive chest, the sound traveling through the water to vibrate against Roxy’s skin.

He slowly raised his hands. His fingers plunged beneath the surface of the steaming water. He gripped her bare, slippery waist with authority, his thumbs pressing firmly against the soft curve of her lower back, pulling her just a fraction of an inch closer so she could feel the undeniable, scorching heat of his arousal against her stomach.

Zarek leaned down, his face hovering mere millimeters from hers, his golden eyes darkened with an absolute, world-ending hunger.

"So," Zarek growled, his voice a raw, jagged rasp of pure Warlord surrender, "this is how you ask for forgiveness?"