Finch's chest swelled with pride. Though he and Rose hadn't completed the mating ritual, his scent marked her as spoken for in the eyes of the other beastmen.
The remainder of the day was spent in a gutted microbrewery, less a bar and more a warren of barricades and hidden passageways. The men compared scars, exchanged news, and occasionally went dead silent when Rose or Felicity entered the room.
Felicity navigated the compound with her gaze fixed straight ahead, careful never to let her eyes linger on any of the beastmen lest they mistake her glance for an invitation. Victor's hulking shadow was her constant companion, his protective presence keeping the others at a wary distance. He was always a step behind her, his hand curling around her waist.
Sometimes she caught the other men staring, their gazes lingering a beat too long. Every time, Victor noticed too. His chest would rumble with a deep, possessive growl that sent some of them scattering and others stubbornly holding their ground. Voss flashed his fangs at Victor in a brazen challenge, one of the only males in the group with enough raw power to truly rival him for the little fox's attention. For now, at least.
The first night with the group was a revelation, a hundred small rituals of hierarchy and belonging. Someone put Felicity in charge of inventory, and when Finch tried to sneak an extra ration of sugar, she caught him, earning howls of laughter and a new nickname: the Magnificent Weasel, which made even Rose grin for real.
At dusk, they gathered on the rooftop around a fire pit made from an old pizza oven. Voss passed out bottles of cheap, foul tasting liquor and told tales from the last stand of the old world, punctuating each story with a bark of laughter or a sharp warning.
"Don't get cocky. Don't get soft. Never trust a priest or a kangaroo."
When the bottle reached Felicity, she hesitated, then tipped it back, coughing at the burn. The men burst into applause, banging on metal tables, their grins wide and feral.
Victor slid his hand down her back, pulling her into his lap and whispering low into her ear. She relaxed, letting the warmth of his chest bleed into her, letting herself belong.
Late into the night, after most of the group had gone off to sleep or patrol, Victor led Felicity to the edge of the roof. In a room with floor to ceiling windows, he pointed out the electric glow in the distance, the last working radio tower, he said, and maybe the only sign that some part of the world still hoped.
She watched the stars, felt the weight of his arm, and thought she could get used to this. Even if she was the last real girl alive, even if tomorrow brought another horror, she would still have her group, her place, and the promise whispered into her hair as Victor kissed her head. "Mine, forever."
She let him hold her, and for the first time, she held him just as fiercely back.
From the shadows of the roof, Voss's amber eyes followed them.
Not with hunger. Not with challenge. With patience. The wolf in him watched Victor's arm around Felicity, the way she leaned into his chest without thinking, the quiet claim exchanged between them. He saw the structure settling into place, the foundation being laid. First husband, he thought.
Not with resentment. With acceptance.
"Sooon, little fox," Voss murmured under his breath, the growl threading through his words softer now, almost reverent. "Soon." It wasn't a threat. It was a promise. Victor felt the weight of that gaze even without turning. He knew Voss had noticed.
Knew the wolf was measuring him still, testing the strength of what he'd built. But for now, Voss didn't move.
He would wait. And Victor, holding Felicity close, understood something he hadn't wanted to name yet.
That loving her didn't mean standing alone.
It meant standing first.
Victor's hand slid from Felicity's waist to her hip, anchoring her firmly in his lap. Spinning her around so her back is leaning against him. The room was theirs, at least for tonight. The riot of beastman laughter below faded into a distant, muffled hum.
Felicity tucked her head beneath Victor's chin, breathing him in. Sweat. Leather. The faint, burnt trace of his magic. She was his, and that meant something now, in a world where women were scarce and safety was never promised.
"You're shivering," Victor murmured against her ear.
"I'm not," she lied.
He made a sound that was almost a laugh. His fingers slipped beneath the hem of her skirt, resting warm and possessive against her thigh. Not rushing. Just there. Claiming space. She didn't stop him.
The danger of it, the knowledge that someone could walk in, that eyes might already be on them, only made her pulse race faster.
Timidity had followed Felicity her whole life, fear and tears never far behind. But here, in Victor's arms, something new took hold. Something steadier. Stronger. Why retreat into old shadows when this confidence felt like heat under her skin?
He tilted her chin up, firm but careful. His thumb brushed her lower lip, sending a sharp thrill through her as his amber eyes locked onto hers, dark and intent, leaving no doubt about what he wanted.
He kissed her. Not softly. Not cautiously. It was a claiming kiss, deep and sure, leaving no room for hesitation. She melted into it, responding without thinking, desire flaring bright and reckless. She wanted this. Wanted him to be unapologetic about it. She didn't notice the rooftop door shift.
Not until Victor broke the kiss.
The night air hung thick with unspoken promises as Felicity's gaze lingered on the shadows where Voss stood.
Something had changed a boundary crossed, a door left deliberately ajar. She turned back to Victor, her movements slow, deliberate, as if testing her newfound power.
Victor's fingers traced up her spine, each touch deliberate. "You understand now, don't you?" he murmured against her ear, voice rough like gravel. "What's happening between us three."
It wasn't a question. Felicity nodded, her fennec ears twitching slightly as she processed the implications.
The beast world had its own rules primal, ancient things that bypassed logic and spoke directly to instinct.
"I should feel..." she began, then stopped, searching for words. "Confused. Afraid." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "But I don't."
Victor's smirk deepened, a glint of mischief in his golden eyes. "Good. Because I want you to embrace it. To feel every moment."
With that, he slipped his fingers beneath her skirt, the heat of his touch igniting a fire low in her belly. She gasped softly, her body instinctively arching toward him, craving more. Victor's fingers found their way between her thighs, teasing and exploring, igniting a need that pulsed through her.
Felicity's breath hitched, a sound escaping her lips that was both a plea and a promise. She was aware of Voss watching, his presence a heavy weight in the air, but it only heightened her desire. She spread her legs slightly, inviting the attention, fully aware of the power she wielded in this moment.
Victor's fingers moved with purpose, hitting all the right spots, drawing out soft moans that echoed in the stillness. Each stroke sent waves of pleasure coursing through her, and she could feel Voss's gaze burning into her skin, a reminder of the primal dance unfolding before him.
The tension in the air thickened, charged with the awareness of their shared desires. Felicity leaned back into Victor, surrendering to the sensations, allowing herself to be seen, to be desired.
Voss's control was slipping, the wolf inside him restless and hungry, but he remained still, watching, waiting for the right moment to make his move.
Victor's lips brushed against her neck, his breath hot against her skin. "Let him watch, Felicity. Let him see what you want."
With each passing moment, Felicity felt herself unraveling, the heat pooling low in her belly, the pressure building as Victor continued to work his magic. She was no longer just a timid girl; she was a fennec fox woman embracing her desires, ready to explore the depths of her newfound power and the connections forming around her.
As the night deepened, the world outside faded away, leaving only the three of them in their own intoxicating bubble of heat and need, where boundaries blurred and desires ignited like wildfire.