The island was her solace. When the world grew too crazy, when the pack swarmed or she grew depressed at the long winters in Norway, their cliff house in Capri always soothed her. Flowers coated the terrace, pergola, and walls. When she opened the shutters in the morning, the ocean air mixed with the scents of lemon trees, herbs, and roses. Fairy roses, Gram would call them, with heavy clusters of multipetaled, fragrant pink.

The sun was setting, so Charlotte took one final swim out to the buoy and then toweled off on the small shale beach that had been carved into the cliff. Taking the elevator up, she stepped off at the pool deck and tossed her towel to Armando, who was just lowering the umbrella for the evening.

He caught it. “Buonanotte, Signora.”

“Has your mother left yet?” she asked, knowing the cook did not like to be at the house after sunset.

“Sî, but dinner is on the counter.” He added the towel to the large wicker laundry basket.

“Yes, of course. Have a lovely evening.”

Fixing herself a limoncello on ice, she watched as he loaded the laundry and left. She stepped into the stone grotto where the shower was and sprayed away the salt. Leaving her silver bikini dangling from a hook, she padded out to the lounge and lay on a chaise, sipping her drink in the warm summer air, watching the sky play rainbow games.

The drone of a motor caught her ear. She stood and rested against the terrace banister, watching as Ivor came up on his beloved fishing boat, painted cheerful blue and yellow. Tomas and Gronski were with him, their masculine voices booming up the echoing cliff as they gathered their gear, slipped over the side, and made their way toward home, carrying their cooler and fishing tackle over their heads. Ivor left the boat last. He hefted a line of fish up at her and she waved.

Cool hands drifted up her spine and massaged her shoulders. She smiled, relaxing back against her vampire. “Buona sera,” she murmured.

“Bonsoir,” he growled back. “I’m hungry tonight.”

Her lips tipped as Ivor passed out of sight onto the beach, and she turned, rolling her body against Ryder’s soft, furred chest. His dark gaze glittered down at her with a hint of red. His hands swept her hair forward over her shoulders. Taking fistfuls, he massaged her breasts with the damp amber strands. It was almost to her waist. The men were obsessed with it.

“I’m hungry, too. What shall we do about this?”

He took the delicate crystal flute from her hand, swirling the syrupy liqueur. “A good woman cooks for her man.”

She burst out laughing. She was always laughing with Ryder. Never had her life been so full of happiness. He grinned back at her, threaded his fingers with hers, and led her to the lounge. Yellow orchids danced along the wall here, and he broke one off the thicker stem, clutching it in his teeth. Charlotte caught her breath. “Ryder . . .”

“Oh, yes, I’m quite famished.” He twirled his hand and she spun, her hair flaring out. Spiraling gracefully down onto the orange canvas, she stretched out, her heart kicking harder. It had been days since either of them had brought a flower to her bed. Her muscles melted in anticipation.

The voices of Ivor and his men came from the fishing shed where they stored boating gear. She knew he would likely clean the fish, then himself, and say good-bye to his friends. She knew she’d have to suffer this anticipation for at least a half hour.

Suffer she did. Ryder poured the limoncello down her center, from throat to belly. Then he straddled her shoulders and arched his hips closer to her face. She opened her mouth. Time spun out. Long, slow, gliding moments where her mouth, tongue, and throat danced around the thick, textured length of her dark male.

The pool gate clanged and the sounds of louder good-byes being called changed the mood. Ryder gently slid himself from her, then knelt at her side, kissing her softly and sipping lightly against her swollen lips. “It’s a full moon tonight,” he whispered.

“I know,” she breathed back.

Ivor was humming as he fired up the huge gleaming grill. “I’m starving. What did Maria leave for us tonight?”

“Pasta and olives,” Ryder said dryly. “As usual.”

It was a running joke between them. Maria was a wonderful cook, with many areas of expertise. That she often had pasta and olives was beside the point. The pasta was of infinite variety, as were the olives. Both could be dressed many ways, with fascinating sauces and herbs. But Ryder insisted she had a one-track mind. Maria was terrified of Ryder, had known he was demonio as soon as she saw him. No doubt she was another untutored, lost fantastical.

“Perfect. Just what I always wanted.” Ivor scraped the grill.

Ryder took the orchid and laid it on Charlotte’s belly button. He turned her head, cupping it in his strong hands, and began to lick and suck at the tendons in her throat. A small sound escaped. Her hands grasped his head in return, fingers seeking deep into his dark, silky hair.

Ivor continued to hum as he laid the fish steaks out on the grill. She watched him through slitted eyes, her nipples starkly erect, her legs twisting. When would he notice the flower?

“Are you running with the pack tonight, Ryder? We leave from Punta Lagno.”

“Ja, bror.” Ryder switched his attention to her ear. His tongue traced the outer rim again and again. His order came on the softest breath. “Don’t you make a sound. You wait.”

The fish sizzled. Ivor would not cook it long. Just enough to sear the herbs he chose into it, then he’d consume nearly everything Maria had left. Even if he ate first, he’d be sure to notice her within a half hour. It wasn’t long in terms of the clock. But her heart already thundered in yearning.

“The ocean was so sweet tonight, Charlotte.”

Curse him, he’d gone into the kitchen. She heard the fridge open and he was back, popping open a beer, looking off toward the last light clinging to the horizon. His shoulders filled the stone arch, his skin burnished to a dark tan. His hair had lightened into a streaked white-blond, and his muscles were chiseled, even in rest. He took a deep drink of his beer, popped some olives into his mouth, and stretched. Ryder dipped his tongue in her ear, delving softly, then sucked on her lobe. Charlotte’s gaze burned into Ivor’s tall nude form. See us, she willed.

Ivor didn’t watch as often as Ryder. If Ryder made love with her, Ivor usually left. If he stayed . . . Ivor tended to growl when he watched. He went back to the grill, flipped the fish. The depth of his chest made her hips twitch. He was so male, so huge and strong. Her arms tightened around Ryder, dragging him from her ear to her mouth. She kissed him, harder, hotter.

Ryder kissed back, his fingers stroking her throat while his other fist tightened in her hair. Her whole body went soft at the commanding sting of his grip. Charlotte’s arms flopped loose, fingers curling desperately over the lounge armrests, her heels digging against the plush cushion.

When he finally released her, all she could do was gasp up at the early stars. Her skin itched. Tonight, she’d have more than the power to compel. Tonight, her desire given voice would command. But her vampire would be dreamier, more easily distracted, and her werewolf would be more aggressive. If he ever noticed them.

Ryder’s lips dragged along her collarbone. He groaned. “So hungry.”

Charlotte’s heart kicked. She felt Ivor’s heat near the soles of her feet, felt the weight of his gaze, his looming presence. Yes! This was it, this was what Ryder had invited by bringing a flower to their bed.

Her gaze slid from the stars to the opalescent silver blue of Ivor’s night vision. He knelt on the end of the lounge, pushing her ankles wide until her feet fell off the extra-wide sides. He tipped up his beer and finished it, then put his palm on her stomach, crushing the flower as his fingers curled possessively into her softness. She’d lost weight in the last year and was in much better shape, her body stronger but still heavily curved. Kneeling between her spread legs, he massaged her belly with one massive hand, staring moodily as Ryder licked and nipped up her throat to her jaw, then back down to her collarbone.

Up, lick, nip, kiss. Down, lave, nibble. Up, lap, bite. Down, flicker, swirl, graze.

Charlotte’s breath became harsh, unsteady. Her hands were clamped tight to the chair, Ivor a conqueror surveying her spread body, Ryder branding her neck, summer air warm and soft on her skin. It went on.

Her breath coming in small sobs, she held Ivor’s gaze, her ribs heaving under the force of her need. He transferred his relentless stare to Ryder, watching his pale shoulders flex as he worked over her. It went on.

Moisture trickled, tickling down her folds. Her knees twitched, aching to draw up, to push, to present, but Ivor’s fingertips swept across her hips, the heel of his hand grinding above her bare mound to press on her aching womb. Ryder licked on, setting her throat on fire, her gaze blurring as night came down.

Ivor finally, finally leaned over and took a fistful of Ryder’s hair. His bicep leaped into definition as he pulled the man’s head up.

Ryder’s fangs were fully extended, his ruby gaze glowing hot. He hissed at Ivor.

Ivor growled back, then tipped his head, leaning it to the side.

Charlotte could not contain the small moan that left her as Ryder flashed with blinding speed over to Ivor’s side, his mouth latching on to the thick, muscular throat. Again, he fell into an endless rhythm, his tongue dragging slow and flat up to the man’s jawline, his lips sipping kisses down to Ivor’s clavicle. Ivor’s fingers splayed out, his hand sliding lower, lower on her belly, until his thumb dipped into her hood and crushed her swollen nub as easily and carelessly as he’d taken the orchid.

Her gasp was raw and harsh, her feet jerking up onto the chaise, her core tight as she shoved her hips high. But Ivor did not take what she offered, her darker, deeper path. His thumb pushed around and around on her clit, all while Ryder trailed fang tips down his jugular, then danced his tongue up a stark sinew.

Charlotte’s thighs trembled, her breasts rocking as her hips jerked helplessly. Her muscles locked, she stared at her golden male as he claimed her with one touch, while tenderly providing for her dark male’s needs.

Ryder stopped in the middle of Ivor’s neck and snarled. His jaw opened wide, sealing his mouth against his neck. His arms tight around Ivor’s torso, his body shook. When he pulled away with a shout, a dark oval stained Ivor’s neck, a bruise from the force of his suction, but no fresh blood gleamed. Her vampire wasn’t dreamy tonight, but dangerous.

Charlotte’s head tossed as she came, her body wracked, tight and burning and straining. When her pleasure settled, she collapsed on a moan. Ryder stood behind Ivor, his hands casually wrapped around the man’s chest, his cheek on his hair as they both watched her. Ivor took his thumb from her and held his hand up by his head. Ryder leaned over and sucked, his eyelids drooping as he swallowed Charlotte off of Ivor.

Ivor’s voice was a bass rumble, the slurred words telling her he was nearly lost to pleasure himself. “You want to live dangerous tonight.” He voiced what Charlotte had understood.

“Yesss,” Ryder said, lifting his mouth from Ivor’s hand. “Blood knows summer, too.”

Ivor leaned forward, licking up from her belly to her throat in one smooth swipe.

Charlotte shouted, guttural and harsh.

Ivor licked his lips. “Sweet.” His hot tip scalded her valley as he brought his hips down to hers.

She sobbed. He began to push. Hard, demanding shoves soon had him deep within her. She went wild, no longer content to let anticipation fill the night. Her body twisting, her hands reaching around Ivor’s waist toward Ryder, she let the magic unfurl from inside her.

“Make me come.” Her desire uttered beneath the moonlight held power.

Both men jerked as if lashed, shoulders bowing back for one brilliant moment. Ivor’s hips began to move, heavy, fast, thick, unyielding; he crushed her body in minutes and made her spirit fly. Her sigh this time was long, grateful.

But Ivor growled in frustration. “Not enough.”

Ryder sighed. “You know how it is when she gets like this.”

The men exchanged places. Ryder drifted into her body as if he was made to fit hers perfectly. His coolness against her overheated flesh was a blessing. His serpentine slides crested in a tight grind against her inflamed clit without being rushed. He swung and twisted against her until her orgasm showered over her in prickling delight.

Ryder stood up. Both men were erect, their cocks gleaming. Her heart squeezed hard with almost unbearable love. Then it kicked hard in awe. They weren’t done. Whenever she gave a command, she was never quite sure how it would work out. It seemed her moonlight magic refused direction, always needing to bend in its own way.

Ivor knelt on the chaise, flipped her over, and began to work himself into her channel. He grunted as he forced his flesh in bit by bit. Ryder approached and crouched by her. She held his gaze while Ivor controlled her hips. She let him watch everything she felt in her eyes. Finally, Ivor reached under her and pinched her secret button. She shattered, soundlessly shuddering as pleasure turned her nerves to glitter.

As soon as she wilted from the grip of the moment, Ryder knelt and guided her face forward until she swallowed him. Ivor withdrew, shifted, and then his mouth enclosed her bare mound. He lay on his back and pulled her hips down, not content until she rested her full weight on him despite her fear she’d suffocate him in this position. His tongue worked wildly through her soaked folds. Ryder marked the depth she could handle and set his fist at his base, then gripped her jaw to keep it open with one expert placement of his thumb. Her breasts chafed against the chaise with the force of her body rocking between the vampire and the wolf.

Ivor suckled her clit, scoring it with his teeth, padding it with his tongue. Ryder thrust with controlled strength against her face, her own taste mixed with his scrambling her mind.

Whenever her men marked her with a flower, this is what it became. A magical trio, two men who accepted each other completely, both focused on the woman who commanded them. They were lovers, they were friends, they were powers who had withstood a pack challenge, a jealous elfin ex-lover, and a plotting Fairy Queen. They had homes in New York, Paris, Oslo, and Capri. They cruised the world by train and boat, enjoying the freedom of the night without fear like the master predators they were.

Charlotte swallowed, her tongue mimicking Ivor’s below. She let the moonlight soak into her skin, and this time when she came, she let herself go free. Ivor’s hands clenched on the backs of her thighs, his body jerking as he found his own release. Ryder poured into her mouth, as deliciously herbal as his silky essence usually was. Her body began to glow, first at her belly and then up her breastbone. The light oozed down her arms to the hands that frantically grabbed Ryder’s hips. It filled her thighs and trickled to her toes. The terrace glowed in white light. Ripping, wet sounds came from Ivor, and she watched him slide from between her legs as he became a giant cream-colored wolf.

He shook himself from nose to tail, wagged at her, and licked her lax hand. He went to Ryder next, now sitting at the head of the chaise, one hand clenched in her hair possessively. Ryder roughed Ivor’s fur over his head and ears and neck, the wolf leaning into the touch with pleasure.

Trotting over to the grill, he stole the now blackened fish from it and swallowed it all. Charlotte laughed, draped along the chaise in complete contentment. Ryder looked down at her, smiling softly, the light she threw up on his face from below making the sharp angles of his face look dramatic. The wolf plopped himself down at Ryder’s feet, panting. He was content for the moment, but Charlotte knew Ryder would soon take him on the large yacht over to the mainland so they could run with the pack Ivor still ruled with ruthless justice. There on the Amalfi Coast her dark lover would find humans to soothe his dark hunger.

Charlotte would stay behind and dance. She would dance with the moon to a primal beat, nude and sinuous, her long copper hair shining. She would dance as a woman who had claimed two lovers, who had found her magic, who had found her bliss.

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