ADELE'S FIRST AMADONIAN CHRISTMAS
Home isn't where you're from.
It's who you're with. And for Adele, home is three alpha warlords who will spend days proving exactly how much she belongs to them.
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When homesickness threatens her new life, three alien warlords decide to give their human omega an impossible gift: Christmas.
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Dr. Adele never expected to miss Earth's traditions after bonding with her three fierce alpha mates on the planet Amadon. But as the seasons shift and memories of her father's Christmas celebrations surface, melancholy threatens to consume her.
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Rif, Stef, and Jet won't stand for their omega's sadness. As Prime Warlords, they command armies and territories—surely they can recreate one simple Earth holiday. How hard can it be?
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Very hard, as it turns out.
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Purple toxic trees. Inedible feasts. Razor-sharp "snow" that nearly kills everyone. What starts as a private celebration spirals into a territory-wide disaster as three competitive alphas turn Christmas into a battle for who can give their omega the perfect gift.
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But beneath the chaos, something beautiful emerges: a new tradition that honors both worlds. A celebration that proves home isn't about recreating the past—it's about the people you choose to build a future with.
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And when Adele's heat triggers during the festivities, her mates will spend days proving exactly where she belongs: claimed, knotted, and thoroughly bred by the three alphas who love her.
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A steamy omegaverse holiday novella featuring three possessive alien warlords, one brilliant human scientist, and the messiest—and most perfect—Christmas celebration in the galaxy.
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Tropes: Alien Romance | Omegaverse | Why Choose | Fated Mates | Holiday Romance | HEA
Heat Level: 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 Explicit (heat cycles, knotting, breeding, multiple partners)​
CHAPTER ONE: ADELE
I wake to arguing.
“—notice she's been withdrawn. Melancholy. Something troubles our omega.”
“I am aware, Stef. But forcing her to speak before she's ready will only push her further away.”
“So we do nothing? Watch her fade while we stand idle?” Stef's tone carries that edge that tells me he's two seconds from starting a real fight.
My eyes snap open to find all three of my mates standing around our nest, tension crackling through our soul bond like lightning. They're arguing about me. About the sadness I thought I'd been hiding.
“We do not stand idle,” Rif growls. “We observe. We wait. We provide comfort when she allows it.”
“Patient waiting is not your strength, brother. You're three seconds from demanding she tell us what troubles her despite anything you say,” Jet says.
Their collective worry washes through me, their frustration at being unable to fix something they can't identify.
“What troubles me,” I say, making them all whirl toward me, “is that I woke you arguing instead of letting me sleep.”
The quality of light filtering through the tall windows catches my attention. It’s softer. Less harsh. The air carries a coolness that wasn’t there before—not cold by Earth standards, but different from Amadon’s usual volcanic heat.
It’s been three months since the solar flare. Maybe four? If I do the math...
It’s almost Christmas.
The thought steals my mind. Christmas. Dad’s terrible attempts at decorating. The traditions I took for granted. The last holiday before he died, when I promised I’d come home for dinner and showed up three hours late because of lab work.
Rif’s awareness sharpens, picking up on my emotional state. His black eyes lock onto mine.
“Omega.” He’s beside me in two strides, his large hands cupping my face. “Why are you so sad?”
Damn. I thought I’d gotten better at shielding emotions.
“It’s nothing. Just—” I stop because lying to them is pointless when they can feel what I feel.
“Tell us.” Not a request. Never a request with him.
Stef moves to my other side, his cedar scent wrapping around me. His fingers trail down my bare arm, raising goosebumps. “Your heart rate spiked. Your scent shifted.” His nose brushes my temple, inhaling. “This is not nothing.”
Jet kneels at the edge of the nest, his summer-sky eyes studying my face with that intensity that makes me protected and exposed. “Tell us what troubles you, omega. We cannot fix what we do not understand.”
I sit up, and they adjust around me, creating a protective wall of crimson muscle. The possessiveness of the gesture makes my belly warm despite the melancholy churning inside me.
“There’s this holiday on Earth. Called Christmas. It happens around this time of year, and I...” My throat tightens. “I miss it. I miss my father. I miss belonging to something bigger than myself.”
The admission costs me. I don’t want them thinking I regret being here, however traumatic that had been. Well, I don’t regret them. Or belonging to them. Or being changed into an omega that gives me so much more than how I’d ever be as a normal human.
Their emotions surge—concern, determination, and underneath it all, their fierce alpha need to fix whatever causes their omega distress.
“Tell us everything about this Christmas,” Rif says. His thumb strokes my cheekbone in a gesture that’s pure possession. “Every tradition. Every custom. Every detail.”
“Why?”
His smile is pure predatory satisfaction. “Because we are going to create it for you.”
My stomach flips. “Rif, that’s impossible. You can’t just—”
“We are the Prime Warlords of Rjúkaland.” Jet’s voice carries absolute conviction. “We command the resources of the entire territory. If our omega requires this Christmas, she will have it.”
“That’s not what I—” I stop, looking between their determined faces. They’re serious.
Warmth blooms in my chest. These three massive alpha warlords—apex predators who could crush me without effort—want to recreate an Earth holiday they don’t understand because it matters to me.
“Okay,” I whisper. “Let’s create an Amadonian Christmas.”
Rif’s triumphant roar shakes the rafters.
For the next hour, I try to explain Christmas traditions while my mates take notes with the intensity reserved for battle planning. But my focus keeps fracturing. The coolness in the air amplifies a restless heat inside me.
My skin is too tight. Every brush of fabric against my nipples sends sparks down my spine. When Jet leans close to ask about “ornaments,” his sandalwood scent floods my system and slick pools between my thighs.
Pre-heat. The realization hits me at the same time it hits them.
All three alphas go still. Their nostrils flare in unison as my scent shifts from simple apple blossom to something headier, richer. More potent.
“Omega.” Rif’s voice drops to that gravelly tone that makes my core clench. “You’re feeling needy for us.”
“I’m fine. We need to finish planning—” My protest dies when a wave of arousal rolls through me.
“Planning can wait.” Stef’s hand curves around my nape. The touch sends electricity straight to my clit. “Our omega needs tending.”
“I don’t need—” I gasp when Jet’s palm flattens against my lower belly, applying gentle pressure that somehow eases and intensifies the ache at the same time.
“You’re in pain.” His summer-sky eyes have gone dark, pupils blown wide. “Let us help you, Adele. Let your alphas care for you.”
The formal request. Asking instead of demanding breaks something in me. “Please, Alpha. I need—”
Rif lifts me onto his lap, my back pressed against his chest. His leather scent surrounds me as his large hands span my waist. Stef positions himself at my side, his cedar-scented fingers trailing up my inner thigh. Jet settles between my legs, his sandalwood mixing with the others until I’m drowning in alpha pheromones.
“Such a good omega,” Rif rumbles against my ear. “Letting us take care of you.”
His purr starts. A deep, subsonic vibration that turns my bones liquid. Stef and Jet join in, the three sounds harmonizing in a way that makes my pussy clench around nothing.
“Please.” The word escapes before I can stop it.
“Please what?” Jet’s hands push my thighs wider. “Use your words, omega. Tell your alphas what you need.”
“Touch me.” My voice is breathless, needy. “I need you to touch me.”
“Where?” Stef’s fingers dance along my inner thigh, so close to where I’m aching. “Here?”
“Higher.”
“Here?” Closer, but not close enough.
“Gods, please—”
Jet’s laugh is pure male satisfaction. “Our omega is so polite when she’s desperate.” His thumb finally, finally presses against my clit through the thin fabric of my sleep shirt. “Is this where you need us?”
“Yes!” The word tears from me as pleasure spikes through my system.
Rif’s hands slide under my shirt, palms covering my breasts. His thumbs circle my nipples until they’re hard points. “No barriers between us and our omega.”
He pulls the shirt over my head in one smooth motion, baring me to their gazes. All three of them make low, appreciative sounds that have more slick coating my thighs.
“Beautiful,” Stef breathes. His mouth descends on one breast while Rif’s fingers work the other. The dual sensation makes me arch, pressing into their touches.
Jet pushes my legs wider, his eyes locked on my glistening core. “Look how wet she is for us. Our perfect omega, always so responsive.”
His tongue drags through my folds. The pleasure is almost too much, too intense, but when I try to close my legs, Rif’s hands lock around my thighs, holding me open.
“No hiding from us,” he growls. “Your pleasure belongs to us. We will take it, taste it, worship it.”
Jet’s mouth seals over my clit, sucking hard while his fingers tease my entrance. Stef’s teeth graze my nipple at the same moment Rif rolls the other. The combined sensations short-circuit my brain.
“That’s it, omega. Take what we give you. Let us feel your pleasure.” Rif’s voice rumbles through me.
Two of Jet’s fingers slide inside me and I clench around them, desperate for more. He pumps slowly, maddeningly, while his tongue works my clit.
The climax escalates, pleasure spiraling tight in my belly. Their satisfaction washes through our bond, their arousal feeding mine.
“Come for us. Let us feel you fall apart,” Stef commands against my breast.
Jet curls his fingers, hitting that spot inside me that makes stars explode behind my eyelids. The orgasm crashes through me, stealing my breath, my voice, my ability to think. I’m nothing but sensation.
They don’t stop. Rif’s hands keep teasing my breasts. Stef’s mouth moves to my neck, sucking bruises into my skin. Jet’s tongue gentles but doesn’t leave, drawing out my orgasm until I’m trembling and oversensitive.
“Good omega,” Rif praises, his purr vibrating against my back. “So perfect for us.”
When Jet pulls back, his chin is glistening with my slick. He brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean locking his gaze with mine. My core clenches with renewed need. “Delicious. But I think our omega needs more.”
“The planning—” I try weakly.
“Can wait.” Stef’s hand curves around my throat, not squeezing, just holding. Claiming. “Right now, you rest. We take care of you. Understood?”
They arrange me in the nest, their hands never leaving my skin. Scenting me. Marking me. Making sure I know who I belong to.
As I drift toward sleep, wrapped in their combined warmth, I hear Rif’s low voice:
“We will give her this Christmas. Make it perfect. Our omega will have everything she desires.”
The determination in his tone should worry me more than it does.
CHAPTER TWO: RIF
I watch our omega sleep, my chest tight with an emotion I lack words for.
She dreams of her Earth festivals. The bittersweet tang of her memories washes though our bond—joy mixed with grief, belonging shadowed by loss. Her parents. Her lost friends. Her traditions. Sacrificed because she was stolen from her planet and brought here through D-Kali’s deception.
“You’re thinking too loud,” Stef murmurs from his position on her other side. “Your worry is bleeding through the bond.”
I keep my voice low, careful not to wake her. “She misses her world. Misses the customs that connect to something larger than herself.”
“She has us now. She’s connected to us. To our people. To this world we’ve built together.” Jet’s hand rests on her hip.
“Is it enough?”
The question hangs in the air between us. Through our alpha bond—separate from but intertwined with our connection to Adele—my bond brothers’ uncertainty mirrors my own.
“It has to be. Because we cannot let her go. Will not,” Stef says.
No. We claimed her. Bonded her. She is ours in every way that matters. But that doesn’t erase what she lost to be here.
I stroke her pale hair, marveling at its softness. Everything about our omega is soft—her exotic skin, her round curves, her large heart. She hides it behind sharp intelligence and stubborn independence, but the truth is bare through our bond. She is gentle. Kind. Desperately lonely before we found her.
“We will recreate her Christmas. Give her back what she lost.” The decision solidifies as we speak.
“You heard her description. Frozen sky water? Trees that remain green in winter? None of this exists on Amadon,” Jet’s brow furrows.
“Then we create it.”
“Rif—” Stef starts.
I cut him off. “I am Prime Warlord. I command armies. Territories. The very stones of this stronghold. I will command winter itself if that is what our omega needs.”
Stef’s expression shifts from skepticism to something like pity. “You cannot command the laws of physics, brother.”
“Watch me.”
Our omega stirs, her scent shifting as she surfaces from sleep. I gentle my tone, not wanting her to wake to arguing alphas.
“We will divide the responsibilities. I will handle the tree and decorations. Stef, you take the feast. Jet, you solve the snow problem.”
“The impossible snow problem,” Jet mutters, but I see the gleam of challenge in his eyes. My second has never backed down from the impossible.
“One week,” I decree. “We will create this Christmas in one week’s time.”
Our omega’s consciousness rises. She stretches against me like a satisfied cat, her apple-blossom scent perfuming the air. My cock responds, hardening against her back.
She notices. Her cheeks flush delicious pink that means she’s aroused and trying to hide it.
“Morning, omega.” I nuzzle her neck, right over her mating bite. She shivers, fresh slick coating her thighs. “How do you feel?”
“Good.” Her voice carries that delicious husky quality I love. “You three are very... thorough.”
“We are your alphas.” Jet’s hand slides up her thigh, possessive and claiming. “Tending to your needs is our greatest honor.”
“And our greatest pleasure,” Stef adds, his mouth finding her shoulder.
She squirms between us, trying to create distance. “We should start planning. If you’re serious about this Christmas thing—”
“We are serious.” I turn her face toward me, needing her to see the truth in my eyes. “You are our heart, Adele. Every part of you matters—including the parts that came from your world. Let us give you this.”
Her eyes shine with unshed tears. “You three are impossible.”
“Yes,” I agree. “But we are your impossible.”
The planning session devolves.
Our omega tries to explain Earth customs, but many of the concepts make no sense. Trees inside dwellings? Acceptable. Decorating them with lights and ornaments? Reasonable. But the idea of a rotund male breaking into homes to leave gifts?
“This Santa Claus is a criminal,” I state.
“He’s not real!” Adele protests for the third time.
“Then why mention him?”
“Because he’s part of the tradition! He represents generosity and magic and—” She stops, rubbing her temples. “Okay, you know what? Forget Santa. Let’s focus on things we can recreate.”
She sketches crude drawings. Her scientific skills don’t extend to artistic ability. The “Christmas tree” looks like a deformed triangle. The “snowflakes” resemble violent starbursts.
But beneath her frustration, hope surges through our bond. She wants this. Wants to share this piece of her humanity with us.
“The tree must be green,” Jet confirms, studying her drawing.
“And decorated with lights and ornaments.” Stef makes notes. “These ‘ornaments’ represent what?”
“Memories. Traditions. Things that matter to your family.” She bites her lip. “On Earth, we’d hang ornaments passed down through generations. Each one held meaning.”
The longing in her voice makes my chest ache.
“We will create new ornaments. New traditions. Ones that belong to us—to our pack,” I say.
“You’re taking this seriously.” She looks between us, emotions swirling through our bond too fast to name. “This is a lot of work for one holiday.”
“You are worth infinite work.” Stef cups her face, his thumb brushing her cheekbone. “Worth any effort. Any sacrifice.”
She leans into his touch, her walls crumbling. This female—our brilliant, stubborn, fierce omega—is learning to accept our devotion.
“Okay,” she whispers. “Let’s create an Amadonian Christmas.”
My lips curve into a satisfied smile. “Lodin!” I bellow.
My Captain of the Guards appears within seconds, snapping to attention. His eyes avoid our omega, who is still wearing only one of Jet’s shirts.
“My lord?”
“Gather a team of our strongest warriors. We’re going to harvest a Fyette wood tree. The biggest one you can find.”
Lodin’s brow furrows. “Fyette wood trees are—”
“Black. I’m aware. Find one anyway.” I wave him off. “We’ll solve the color problem later.”
“And send word to the kitchens. I’ll need their full cooperation starting immediately,” Stef adds.
“The Ulgix scientists as well. The trustworthy ones who still have their tongues. I have... atmospheric questions,” Jet says.
Lodin’s confusion is palpable, but he bows. “As you command, my lords.”
After he leaves, our omega looks at us with a mixture of affection and concern.
“This is going to be a disaster, isn’t it?”
“Probably,” I admit.
“Almost certainly,” Stef agrees.
“Without question,” Jet confirms.
Then we all smile.
“But it will be our disaster,” I say, pulling her onto my lap. “And we will create it together.”
Her laugh vibrates against my chest. Her joy mixes with trepidation. She doesn’t believe we can succeed.
I will prove her wrong.
No force in this universe will stop me from giving my omega the Christmas she deserves.
CHAPTER THREE: ADELE
I hear the crash from three floors up—a massive splintering sound followed by shouts and Rif’s triumphant bellow. When I reach the great hall, my mouth falls open. A forty-foot black tree has smashed through the vaulted ceiling, sending chunks of stone raining down. Warriors scramble to contain the damage while Rif stands beneath it, arms crossed, looking satisfied with himself.
“It is magnificent,” he declares. “The finest tree in all of Rjúkaland.”
“It’s supposed to fit in the room!” I shout up at him. Several falling rocks punctuate my point.
He gestures at the monstrosity dominating the space. “You said it should be tall and impressive. This is both.”
“For a normal-sized room! On Earth! And it’s supposed to be green, remember?” I press my hands to my temples.
“Yes, yes. We will paint it.” He waves this off like it’s a minor detail.
Lodin approaches cautiously. “My lord, the tree has damaged structural supports. The ceiling may collapse if—”
“Then reinforce it. Nothing is too much trouble for our omega. The tree stays,” Rif says.
I open my mouth to argue, but Stef appears at my side, his hand sliding around my waist. “Choose your battles, omega. He will not concede on the tree.”
The cedar scent of him settles my rising panic. His amusement mixes with exasperation—apparently he tried to warn Rif about size considerations.
“Fine. But we’re painting it ourselves. All of us,” I say.
Three hours later, we’re all covered in purple sludge.
The natural dyes Jet procured apparently have a mind of their own. What was supposed to be green turned into a violent purple that smells like rotting fish mixed with burnt rubber.
“This is not green,” I say.
Jet dabs more purple on a branch, his brow furrowed in concentration. “The chemical composition should have produced green. I don’t understand the failure.”
“Maybe because we’re using alien plants on an alien planet and I have no idea what compounds are even in these dyes?”
The tree drips purple sludge onto the floor, creating toxic-looking puddles. Torbjorn wanders in, takes one look, and sets a decorative tapestry on fire out of what I can only assume is artistic protest.
“Torbjorn, no!” I rush to stamp out the flames before the entire castle goes up.
“He has strong opinions about aesthetics,” Rif observes.
I stare up at our purple monstrosity. “He’s not wrong. This is hideous.”
Rif’s hurt beneath his stubborn pride. He worked hard on this. Mobilized dozens of warriors. Put genuine thought and effort into giving me something special.
“It’s hideous. But it’s also perfect. In a completely wrong, utterly Amadonian way.”
His arm bands around me, pulling me against his side. Purple dye transfers from his skin to mine. “You are merely saying that.”
I look up at him. “I’m saying it’s the most ridiculous Christmas tree I’ve ever seen, and I love it because you made it for me.”
His smile is pure male satisfaction. “Then we will add the ornaments.”
The “ornaments” turn out to be an eclectic collection of weapons, bones from various hunts, and glowing crystals that emit an ominous humming sound.
“These are not traditional ornaments,” I say.
“They represent our victories,” Rif explains, hanging a vicious-looking blade. “Our strength. Our pack.”
Stef adds a skull from his first solo sevani kill. “Memories that matter. You said ornaments should represent what matters to your family.”
“I meant like... handmade crafts. Photos. Sentimental things.”
Jet positions a chunk of obsidian that glows from within. “This is sentimental. This is from the volcano where I first learned to ride Torbjorn. It represents coming of age. Growth.”
I stare at our purple tree decorated with weapons and bones and glowing rocks, and something shifts in my chest.
They’re trying. Really trying. Taking my half-understood explanations and filtering them through their own culture, their own experiences.
“Okay,” I say. “Okay, this works. This is... uniquely us.”
“You truly approve?” Rif’s hand curves around my nape. The touch sends heat spiraling through me.
“I truly approve.”
His purr starts up, vibrating through where we’re pressed together. Stef and Jet move closer, their own purrs joining his until I’m surrounded by that intoxicating sound.
“Our omega is pleased,” Stef murmurs, his nose trailing along my jaw. “I can scent it.”
Slick pools between my thighs. My pre-heat hasn’t stopped—if anything, their constant attention has kept me in a state of low-level arousal for days.
“We have more planning to do.”
“Planning can wait.” Jet’s palm flattens against my lower belly. “Our omega needs tending.”
“I don’t—” My protest dies when Rif’s teeth graze my mating bite. Pleasure spikes down my spine, making my knees buckle.
“You do.” His voice drops to that commanding tone that makes me wet. “You’re in pain. We can scent the need on you. Feel it through our bond.”
He’s not wrong. The ache between my thighs has become constant, a low throb that intensifies whenever they’re close.
“Here?” I glance around the great hall. “There are people working—”
“Who will not disturb us.” Stef’s fingers find the hem of my shirt, tugging it up. “Who know better than to interrupt their warlords claiming their omega.”
“Claiming? We’re already bonded—” My voice pitches higher when Jet drops to his knees, his hands pushing my thighs apart.
“We claim you every time we touch you.” Jet’s breath ghosts over my core. “Every time we bury ourselves in your heat. Every time we make you scream our names.”
His mouth seals over my clit through my pants. Fabric mutes the sensation, which somehow makes it worse. Better. I can’t think.
Rif pulls my shirt over my head while Stef works my pants down my legs. Within seconds I’m naked in the great hall, surrounded by purple tree and toxic puddles and the sounds of construction happening somewhere above us.
“Beautiful.” Stef’s hands cup my breasts, his thumbs circling my nipples until they’re hard points. “Look at her, brothers. Our perfect omega, always so responsive.”
Rif positions himself behind me, his cock pressing against my lower back. “I want to watch Jet make you fall apart. Want to feel your pleasure through our bond while you soak his face.”
“Too much,” I gasp. “I can’t—”
Jet’s tongue drags through my folds, and I nearly come from that alone. “You can. You’re so wet for us, omega. So ready.”
He doesn’t tease this time. His mouth works my clit with ruthless precision while two fingers thrust inside me. Stef’s teeth close around one nipple while Rif’s hand works the other, and the combined sensations drive me higher, faster than I can process.
“That’s it. Take what we give you. Let everyone in this castle know who you belong to,” Rif growls against my ear.
The orgasm steals my breath and my ability to stand. I’m only upright because Rif’s arm bands around my waist, holding me against him while Jet’s mouth continues its devastating work.
“Again,” Stef commands. “Give us another.”
“Can’t—too much—”
His teeth graze my other nipple. “You can. Our omega is so strong. So perfect. She can take everything we give and more.”
Jet adds a third finger, stretching me, filling me. His tongue traces patterns over my oversensitive clit that have me shaking. Their arousal feeds mine, building and building until—
The second orgasm crashes through me harder than the first. I do scream this time, their names torn from my throat as pleasure whites out my vision.
When I come back to myself, I’m boneless in Rif’s arms. Jet’s chin glistens with my slick. Stef’s eyes blow dark with want.
“Better?” Rif’s voice rumbles through me.
“I... yes.” I can barely form words. “But you three—”
“Are perfectly fine. Tending to your needs brings us pleasure.” Stef adjusts himself with a grimace.
“Even when you’re...” I gesture vaguely at their obvious erections.
“Especially then.” Jet rises to his feet, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Knowing we can make you fall apart, make you scream, make you forget everything but our touch. There is no greater satisfaction.”
I feel the truth of his words. They are satisfied. Deeply, thoroughly satisfied by my pleasure alone.
It doesn’t make sense by Earth standards. But this is Amadon. These are my alphas. And I’m learning that their satisfaction and mine are inextricably linked.
“Now,” Rif says, carrying me toward the stairs. “You rest while we continue preparations.”
“But—”
“Rest, omega. Your heat is approaching. You’ll need your strength.”
I wake hours later to the smell of something burning.
The acrid scent pulls me from deep sleep, and I stumble out of our nest, following the smoke trail to the kitchens.
The scene I find rivals the tree disaster.
Stef stands in the center of absolute chaos, flour coating his hair, face, and bare chest. Every surface holds failed experiments. Rock-hard discs that might have been cookies, charred lumps of unidentifiable origin, and something that’s still smoking.
Three beta cooks huddle in the corner, traumatized.
“What is a ‘cookie’ exactly?” one asks.
“A small sweetened cake,” Stef snaps, not looking up from whatever he’s mixing. “Flat. Crisp. How is this difficult?”
“Perhaps if you told us what ‘sweet’ means in your culture—”
“Sweet. The opposite of bitter. Do I need to explain basic flavors?”
I step in before someone gets hurt. “Stef?”
He whirls, wild-eyed, then softens when he sees me. “Omega. You should not be near the heat and chaos.”
“Show me what you’re working on.”
What he shows me are discs that could double as throwing weapons. When I tap one against the counter, it doesn’t break. It doesn’t even chip.
“I may have cooked them too long,” he admits.
“Or used the wrong ingredients, wrong temperature, and wrong technique.” I keep my voice gentle. “Baking is more chemistry than cooking. It requires precision.”
His jaw sets in that stubborn way that runs through all three of my alphas. “I will perfect it.”
I move to his side, and his cedar scent settles my nerves. “Let me help. We’ll figure it out together.”
We spend the next hour attempting various recipes. Most fail spectacularly. A few are almost edible. By the end, we’re both covered in flour and laughing at the absurdity of it all.
“This is impossible,” Stef says, but he’s smiling. “Your Earth customs are unreasonably complex.”
“Wait until you try the turkey.”
His expression suggests he’s already tried. “The six-legged fowl did not cooperate.”
“Was it... alive when you presented it?”
“It was very fresh,” he offers.
“Stef.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “We can’t eat something that’s still breathing.”
“I released it. After you made it clear freshness was not, in fact, the priority.”
Despite everything, I’m laughing again. Stef pulls me against him, not caring about the flour coating both of us.
“I wanted to give you a perfect feast. Something worthy of the celebrations you described,” he says.
I stretch up to kiss him, tasting flour and frustration and cedar. “The effort matters more than perfection. Besides, some of the best Christmas memories are the ones where everything goes wrong.”
“Then we are creating excellent memories.”
His hand slides down to cup my ass, pulling me tighter against him, his arousal sparking.
“We’re covered in flour,” I point out.
“I don’t care.”
His mouth descends on mine, hungry and claiming. I open for him, my body responding to his alpha pheromones like I’m hardwired for this response.
Because I am. The omega in me knows her alpha, recognizes his scent and touch and dominance. Wants to submit, to please, to be claimed.
Stef lifts me onto the counter, his hips pressing between my thighs. His cock, hard and thick, grinds against my core through our clothing.
“Need to be inside you. Remind you who you belong to,” he growls against my mouth.
“You three just—” I gasp when his teeth find my neck. “—in the great hall—”
“Not enough. Never enough.” His hands work my pants down while his mouth traces my mating bite. “Could fuck you ten times a day and still want more.”
The crude language sends heat spiraling through me. Stef is usually the most controlled of my three alphas, his desire wrapped in elegant words and careful touches.
Not now. Now he’s pure alpha need.
He frees his cock, the thick length jutting between us. The head is flushed darker blue than the rest of him, pre-cum already beading at the tip.
“Please,” I breathe, widening my thighs.
“Such a good omega.” He lines himself up at my entrance. “Always so wet for us. So ready.”
He thrusts in one smooth motion, burying himself to the hilt. I cry out at the stretch, the fullness, the perfect friction of him filling me completely.
Stef’s head drops to my shoulder. “Fuck. So tight. So perfect. How are you always so perfect?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer. His hips move, thrusting into me with forceful, potent motions that make me see stars. Each thrust hits that spot inside me that makes my toes curl.
“Touch yourself. I want to you come on my cock.”
My hand slides between us, fingers finding my clit. The additional stimulation makes me clench around him, and he groans, his pace increasing.
“That’s it, omega. Squeeze my cock. Milk me.”
The combination of his words, his scent, his cock pounding into me—it’s too much. The orgasm builds fast and hard, pleasure coiling tight in my belly.
“Stef—I’m going to—”
“Come.” His teeth close around my mating bite. “Come for your alpha.”
The orgasm detonates through me, whiting out my vision. I clench around him. He roars, his balls drawing tight as he empties himself inside me. Heat floods my channel as his knot swells, locking us together.
We stay like that, panting and connected, while he purrs against my neck. His satisfaction, his possessive pride, his absolute certainty that I belong to him washes through me.
“You’re mine,” he murmurs. “Ours. No matter what world you came from, you belong here now.”
“I know.” I thread my fingers through his electric-blue hair. “I know.”
When his knot finally deflates, he eases out of me. His cum drips down my thighs, marking me with his scent.
“Now you scent like me,” he says with deep satisfaction. “Like you should.”
I’m too blissed out to argue about alpha possessiveness.
One of the beta cooks clears her throat from the doorway. “My lord? Should we... return?”
“No,” Stef says without looking away from me. “We’re not finished here.”
The cook flees.
“Stef!” I smack his shoulder. “They need to work—”
“And they will. After I’ve properly claimed my omega.” His smile is wicked. “Multiple times. In multiple positions.”
Heat floods through me despite having just come. “You’re insatiable.”
“Only for you.”
The depth of his need for me, specifically me washes through me. Not just any omega—his omega.
“We should at least move somewhere without flour,” I say.
“Agreed. I’m thinking the bathing chamber.”
He carries me from the kitchen, not caring who sees his naked omega covered in flour and cum. Not caring that he’s claiming me openly, obviously, completely. I’m glad the people here are kind enough to avert their eyes.
Because I’m his. Theirs.
And on Amadon, that means everything.
CHAPTER FOUR: JET
The crystallized minerals float through the great hall like beautiful, deadly snowflakes. They catch the light from the glowing crystals on Rif’s terrible purple tree, creating rainbows on every surface.
They’re also sharp enough to shred skin.
I watch in horror as one drifts toward a beta worker. “Move!”
She dives aside just as the “snowflake” embeds itself in the wooden pillar where her head had been.
“Jet!” Adele rushes in, her hair still damp from whatever she and Stef were doing in the bathing chamber. “What did you do?”
I gesture at the floating death crystals. “I created snow. Beautiful snow.”
“Beautiful murder snow!” She ducks as one zips past. “Make it stop!”
I’m already working the controls, reversing the atmospheric manipulation. The crystals drift to the ground where they shatter into harmless dust.
Mostly harmless.
Adele stands in the center of the hall, hands on her hips, glaring at me with those stunning blue eyes. Her scent carries notes of Stef—cedar mixed with her apple blossom. My cock responds as it always does and always will for her.
“This is the third snow attempt. The black ash stained everything. The ice storm nearly killed us. And now razor snowflakes,” she says.
I move to her. “I’m aware. I wanted to give you real snow. What you described. What you missed.”
Her expression softens. “I know. And that means everything. But I’d rather have you and this castle intact than accurate precipitation.”
“I’ve failed you.”
“No.” She cups my face, her small hands impossibly gentle. “You’ve tried. That’s what matters.”
She’s sincerity. She truly doesn’t need perfection. Just effort. Just proof that we care enough to try.
The knowledge settles something in my chest I didn’t realize was unsettled.
“I have one more idea,” I say. “But it requires different materials. Safer materials.”
“What kind of materials?”
“The bioluminescent spores from the deep caverns. The ones that respond to touch and breath. They float but they’re soft. Harmless.”
Her eyes light up. “Like fairy lights. That could work. That could be beautiful.”
“I’ll need time to harvest enough—”
“We have time.” She stretches up to kiss me, and I taste Stef on her lips. The knowledge that she’s been with him, been claimed by him, only heightens my need.
“You scent like Stef,” I say against her mouth.
“He was very thorough.”
“Were you satisfied?”
“Very.”
“Good.” My hand slides down her back to cup her ass. “But I think you can take more.”
Her pupils dilate. “Jet—”
“You’re in pre-heat, omega. Your body is preparing for full heat. You need us. Constantly.” I press against her, letting her feel how hard I am. “Let me tend to you.”
“Here?” She glances around the hall. “Again?”
“Anywhere. Everywhere. Whenever you need us.” I lift her, her legs wrapping around my waist. “That’s what alphas do for their omega.”
I carry her to one of the alcoves—not private but at least shadowed. Pin her against the wall with my hips while my hands work her clothes.
“Someone will see,” she protests, but her hips are already moving, seeking friction.
“Let them.” I free my cock, the length jutting between us. “Let everyone in this stronghold know their omega is well-cared for.”
I slide into her in one smooth thrust, and we both groan. She’s still slick from Stef, his cum easing my way. The knowledge that I’m fucking her while she’s full of my bond brother only heightens the pleasure.
I breathe against her neck. “So perfect. So tight. How do you feel this good every time?”
“Biology,” she gasps out. “Omega physiology designed for—oh gods—for multiple alphas—”
Her explanation cuts off when I hit that spot inside her that makes her see stars. I angle my hips to hit it again, and again, driving into her with deep, powerful strokes.
“That’s it, omega. Take me. Take everything I have to give.”
My teeth find her mating bite, worrying the sensitive flesh without breaking skin.
“Come for me. Fall apart on my cock.”
Her nails dig into my shoulders as the orgasm crashes through her. She tightens around me, milking my length. I thrust twice more before my own release hits, my knot swelling to lock us together as I empty myself into her. Her pleasure mixes with mine, multiplying until I can’t tell where I end and she begins.
“Good omega,” I purr against her neck. “Always so responsive. So perfect for us.”
She’s limp in my arms, boneless and sated. I hold her, supporting her weight while my knot keeps us joined.
“Three times. You three have claimed me three times today.”
“We’ll claim you three more times every day if that’s what you need.” I nuzzle her hair, breathing in her scent. “More, if your heat demands it.”
“I’m not in full heat yet.”
“No. But soon. Soon you’ll need us constantly. And we’ll be ready,” The knowledge sends possessive satisfaction through me.
Her legs shake after I ease out of her, so I carry her toward our chambers.
“I can walk,” she protests.
“I prefer to carry you. To show everyone that you’re mine. Ours.”
She doesn’t argue further, just rests her head on my shoulder. Her contentment and satisfaction washes through me.
But underneath, there’s still that thread of melancholy. The homesickness she’s trying to hide.
We will fix it. This Christmas celebration will work. I’ll make sure of it.
For our omega, I would move mountains. Command the very stars.
Creating a proper Christmas is nothing compared to that.
CHAPTER FIVE: ADELE
The day before our planned celebration, I wake to find the entire stronghold transformed.
And I mean transformed.
Purple trees line every hallway—apparently Rif’s solution to having one that doesn’t fit was to make fifty more. Glowing crystals hang from every surface, casting rainbow lights across the walls. Banners made from treated leather display what I assume are snowflakes but look more like alien starfish.
They decorated the whole stronghold for Christmas.
“What...” I turn in a circle, overwhelmed. “What happened to keeping it private?”
“Ah.” Rif appears behind me, not looking remotely apologetic. His hands settle on my hips, pulling me back against his chest. “The people heard we were creating a celebration for our omega. They wished to participate.”
“Participate? This looks like a craft store exploded!”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“It means—” I gesture at the chaos of decorations. “I thought we agreed just the four of us?”
“Six territories,” Stef corrects, appearing from another hallway. “Word spread. Other warlords are sending representatives to observe, and we though the other human female would like to also attend.”
I’m going to pass out. Or scream. Or both.
A small hand tugs my sleeve. I look down to find a beta child gazing up at me with wide eyes.
“Omega? What does Christmas mean?”
The simple question cuts through my spiral. I kneel down to her level, ignoring the stares of the growing crowd.
“Christmas is about...” I pause, thinking about it. “It’s about love. About family—not just blood family, but the family you choose. It’s about giving to others expecting nothing back. About hope and light during dark times.”
The child’s face brightens. “Like how our warlords found you? And you saved us from the Ulgix?”
“I...” My throat tightens.
“The omega brought us hope,” an older beta says, wandering over. “Showed us the light of truth when we were being deceived.”
More people gather, listening. My mates’ pride warms my chest.
“These are values we understand. Family. Hope. Generosity. Perhaps Christmas is not so foreign after all,” Rif says behind me.
I look around at the chaotic decorations, the eager faces, the terrible purple trees. They’ve embraced this with genuine enthusiasm. Not because they understand the cultural context, but because they understand what matters underneath.
My people have made Christmas their own.
But the pressure of making this meaningful for everyone, not just myself, settles heavy on my shoulders.
And my body chooses this moment to remind me that pre-heat is still in my system – and I thought having periods were inconvenient.
A cramp twists my abdomen. Slick gushes between my thighs, and my scent blooms around me.
Every alpha in the vicinity goes still. Nostrils flare. Eyes darken.
“Omega,” Rif growls, his arms banding around me. “Come with me.”
“Hurts,” I whimper, embarrassed by how needy I sound. “Please—”
“We have you.” Stef’s purr starts up, the soothing sound trying to ease my discomfort. “We’ll take care of you.”
Jet sweeps me into his arms. “Clear a path!” he bellows at the crowd.
We reach our chambers and he deposits me in the nest. The familiar scents of leather, cedar, and sandalwood should soothe me, but I’m too far gone. The heat is building fast, consuming my rational thought.
“Need you,” I pant, trying to pull off my clothes. “All of you. Please—”
“We’re here.” Rif strips with efficient movements, his crimson cock already hard and leaking. “We’ll never leave you wanting, omega.”
Stef and Jet shed their clothing just as quickly. Within seconds I’m surrounded by three massive alpha bodies, all focused on my pleasure.
“So beautiful in your heat. Absolutely perfect,” Stef breathes, his hands skimming over my curves.
Jet positions himself between my thighs, his mouth descending on my core. The first touch of his tongue makes me arch off the nest.
“Please, please, please—” I don’t know what I’m begging for, only that I need more.
“We’ve got you.” Rif captures my mouth in a searing kiss while his hands work my breasts. “Just let go. Let your alphas care for you.”
Jet’s mouth on my clit, fingers thrusting inside me. Stef and Rif teasing my breasts, kissing my neck and every sensitive spot they’ve learned over these months together.
The first orgasm hits fast and hard, ripping through me with enough force to make me scream. “Need you inside me,” I gasp. “Need—”
Rif positions himself at my entrance. “I know what you need. I know exactly what my omega requires.”
He thrusts in one smooth motion. His hips move, driving into me with deep, powerful strokes.
“Yes! More—harder—”
“Greedy omega.” But his pace increases, each thrust hitting deeper. “We’ll give you everything. Everything you can take and more.”
Stef guides my hand to his cock, and I stroke him in time with Rif’s movements. Jet positions himself at my head, and I take him into my mouth, needing to be filled, claimed, surrounded by them.
“Fuck.” Jet’s hand tangles in my hair, gentle but firm. “Your mouth, omega. So perfect.”
I’m overwhelmed by sensation—Rif pounding into me, Jet on my tongue, Stef in my hand. Their combined scents and sounds and the feeling of them using my body for mutual pleasure.
Another orgasm builds, bigger than the last. Their pleasure mixes with mine, amplifying until I can’t breathe.
“Come for your alphas, omega,” Rif commands, his knot beginning to swell.
The orgasm detonates through me. I scream around Jet’s cock as Rif’s knot locks us together, his release flooding my channel. Jet follows seconds later, his cum coating my tongue. Stef’s release spills over my hand, hot and thick.
They don’t stop. Can’t stop. My heat demands more, and they give it willingly.
Each of my alphas take their turn inside me, keeping me in a constant state of pleasure. Every time I think I can’t take more, they prove me wrong.
“Such a good omega,” Stef praises as he thrusts into me from behind. “Taking us so well. Made for this. Made for us.”
“Please—” I’m not sure what I’m begging for anymore. Release? More? Both? I still have my mind and I’m not lost to the haze of full heat. I know my pre-heat is working up to full heat and it will be soon.
Jet’s fingers work my clit while Stef pounds into me. “We know what you need. We’ll always know.”
They do.
When Stef’s knot locks us together, I start to come back to myself. The desperate need subsides to something more manageable. My thoughts clear enough to form words.
“That was...” I trail off, unable to describe it.
“Intense,” Rif supplies. He’s purring, the sound soothing my oversensitized nerves. “Your heat is progressing faster than expected.”
“The celebration,” I remember. “It’s tomorrow—”
“Can be postponed,” Stef says, still locked inside me.
“No.” I’m surprised by my certainty. “No, we planned this. People are excited. We should—”
“You are in heat,” Rif interrupts. “Your needs come first.”
I look between them. “I’m on pre-heat. We can’t just cancel because my biology decided to complicate things.”
“Yes we can,” all three say in unison.
Their protectiveness and determination to put my comfort first is sweet. Overwhelming. And exactly what I don’t need right now.
“I want to do this. I want to celebrate with our people. Show them that Christmas is about coming together, about family. About—” My throat tightens. “About belonging.”
That’s what this is really about, I realize. Not recreating Earth traditions. Not proving I can bridge two worlds. But showing myself—and them—that I truly belong here.
That I’m home.
Rif’s expression softens. “If that is what our omega wishes, we will make it happen.”
“Even though you’ll be desperate for our knots through the entire celebration?” Jet’s lips curve. “Unable to think about anything but being filled and claimed?”
Heat floods my cheeks. “I’ll manage.”
“We’ll help you manage.” Stef slips free, and I feel the loss. “Keep you satisfied enough to function.”
“Is that even possible?”
Their smiles are pure male confidence.
“We are your alphas. We can do anything,” Rif says.
I’m not convinced, but the warmth in my chest has nothing to do with heat and everything to do with how much they care.
CHAPTER SIX: RIF
Our omega is curled in the center of the nest, thoroughly claimed and marked with our scents.
“We need to talk about the celebration,” Stef says from his position beside her.
“What’s there to discuss? She wants it. We make it happen.” Jet strokes her hair.
“While she’s in pre-heat?” I shake my head. “Every alpha in the territory will scent her. Will want her. We’ll spend the entire celebration fighting off challenges.”
“Then we fight. She wants this Christmas. We will give it to her,” Jet says.
“Agreed. But we need precautions. Perhaps if we—” Stef says.
A knock interrupts him. I rise, fury already building at the interruption. When I wrench open the door, Lodin stands there, looking apologetic.
“Forgive me, my lord. But the preparations for tomorrow—many people have questions.”
I step outside of the door and close it behind me. None get to see our omega vulnerable in her sleep, and I only speak with him now to ensure her happiness rather than being back in her nest where I want to do. “Tell me what questions you have. I will answer them.”
Lodin lists various concerns: food preparation, decoration placement, gift protocols. Normal celebration planning, except we’re attempting to recreate customs from another world.
“The people wish to contribute their own traditions. To blend them with your omega’s Earth customs. Is this acceptable?” Lodin finishes.
I think of how our omega’s face lit up when the child asked about Christmas meaning. How she explained it in terms of family and hope—universal values that transcend worlds.
“Tell them to bring their best traditions. Their crafts. Their songs. We create something new—neither Earth nor Amadon, but both,” I say.
Lodin bows. “As you command, my lord.”
After he leaves, I return to find my bond brothers holding our omega between them. She’s stirring, her scent shifting with renewed need. Her full heat will be soon. I look forward to spending days with her in her next, tending to her arousal. I cherish every moment of it. I never thought I would have an omega.
I never thought D’Kali and the entire race of Ulgix were anything but our friends either. We owe her everything. If not for her, our race would be extinct in my generation. Both her and all of the human women abducted have given Amadon life.
“Alphas,” she whimpers, still half-asleep.
“We’re here, omega.” I slide into the nest, my hands finding her curves. “Always here.”
Her eyes open, seeking mine. They are clear for now. I’m half glad and half disappointed. Glad that she’ll see the festivities and disappointed I won’t be balls deep giving her the pleasure she deserves. “I had an idea. About the celebration.”
“Tell us.”
“We’ve been trying to recreate Earth Christmas. But that’s wrong. We should create Amadonian Christmas. A fusion of both worlds.” Her voice gains strength as she speaks. “Keep what works. Change what doesn’t. Make it ours.”
No one of this planet deserves this female. She’s stolen from her life and still considering others. This is what she needs—not a copy of her old life, but a blending of past and present.
“The purple trees are hideous,” Stef says.
“Completely hideous,” she agrees. “But what if we used the healing fires instead? Wove them through black Fyette wood like art?”
Interest sparks in my chest. “Controlled flames. Beautiful. Uniquely Amadonian.”
“The feast doesn’t need to be turkey and cookies. It should be your best dishes, served in the tradition of family and abundance. A fusion menu.”
“I can do that,” Stef says, already planning.
“And Jet—” She turns to him. “What if you used those bioluminescent spores? The ones that float? They’re not snow, but they are beautiful. Magical.”
“Like stars you can touch. Yes. That will work,” he murmurs.
Her smile lights up her entire face. “We’re not copying Earth. We’re creating something new. Something that honors where I came from and where I am now.”
“Something that’s wholly ours,” I finish.
She nods. Her excitement, her hope, her absolute certainty that this will work fills me.
“We’ll this a territory-wide collaboration, not just the four of us,” she says.
“You want to address the stronghold while in heat?” Jet’s brow furrows. “That seems unwise.”
“Pre-heat. I want them to understand this isn’t just my festival. It’s ours. All of us.” She struggles to sit up, and we help her. “We have tonight to transform everything. Can we do it?”
I think of our people’s enthusiasm. Their willingness to participate. The way they’ve embraced this strange Earth custom because it matters to their omega. Lodin said so himself. They’re eager to please our omega.
“We can do anything. Especially for you.” Her kiss tastes of hope and heat and home.
We spend the next hour planning, though it’s frequently interrupted by her need for us. Her pre-heat makes her desperate, her body demanding to be filled, claimed, marked. We oblige willingly, taking turns keeping her satisfied in private while we coordinate with Lodin and the other warriors.
Hours later, we’re all exhausted but determined.
The celebration will be perfect.
Because our omega deserves nothing less.
CHAPTER SEVEN: ADELE
Loud hammering wakes me. Groaning, I try to sit up, but my body protests. I’m sore in places I didn’t know could be sore. Thoroughly used and claimed and—
A cramp twists my abdomen and slick coats my thighs. Right. Still in pre-heat.
Rof steadies me. “Easy, omega. You need to eat and drink before we continue.”
“Continue?” My voice comes out hoarse.
“Your pre-heat will only grow. We will tend to you regularly throughout the day.” He helps me sit, then presents a plate of food and a cup of water. “But first, sustenance.”
I eat, my body demanding fuel even as my mind races. Today is Christmas. Our Christmas. The first celebration in our new tradition. And I don’t want anything to stand in the way. Not even my new biology.
Through the windows, I see people rushing about below. Setting up tables. Hanging decorations. The purple trees are gone, replaced by something that makes my breath catch.
Black Fyette wood sculptures woven with controlled healing fire. Living art that casts dancing shadows and warmth without smoke or danger.
“You removed all the purple trees,” I say.
“They were hideous,” Rif confirms without shame. “These are better.”
They are better. They’re beautiful—neither Earth nor Amadon, but a perfect blend of both.
“I want to help. Want to be part of the preparations—” I say.
“You are in heat,” all three say in unison.
“I’m in pre-heat. There’s a difference.” I struggle to my feet, ignoring the immediate gush of slick. “I’m not an invalid. I can function. I just need...” I look at them, knowing this is what they’ll want to hear. Never in my life did I think I’d be demanding three mates to give me so much… pleasure. Not that I’m complaining. For virgins, they’re very skilled. Although practice does make perfect. “Frequent tending?”
Their smiles are pure male satisfaction. As I thought.
“We can arrange that. But you wear our cloaks. Stay close. And if any alpha so much as looks at you wrong if they scent you—” Jet says.
“You’ll dismember them. Got it.”
They dress me in layers of furs heavy with their scents. It helps mask my heightened arousal and marks me as theirs, though any alpha with decent senses will know what I am.
When we venture downstairs, the great hall glows with healing fire and floating spores—Jet’s bioluminescent creation that drifts through the air like gentle starlight. Music fills the space, alphas harmonizing with betas in haunting songs that somehow blend with Christmas carols I taught them.
Long tables are being set up for the feast. People work together, chatting and laughing, creating something beautiful from chaos.
“Omega!” The beta child from yesterday rushes up to me. “Look what I made!”
She holds out a small carved figure. A rough approximation of me surrounded by three larger figures. My mates.
“It’s beautiful,” I say, my throat tight.
“It’s for your tree. Everyone’s making ornaments to represent what matters to them.” She beams up at me. “You said Christmas is about family. So I made my family.”
I look around and see others working on similar projects. Carving. Stitching. Creating representations of what they love, what gives them hope.
“This is perfect,” I whisper.
My mates’ satisfaction swells through me. This is what I needed. Not a copy of Earth traditions, but something authentic to all of us.
CHAPTER EIGHT: ADELE
The celebration begins at dusk. Music fills the air. Haunting harmonies blend the Christmas carols I’ve been able to share with Amadonian songs. People gather, dressed in their finest, carrying handmade gifts.
I’m dressed in a gown Stef commissioned. Soft leather dyed deep blue, with intricate beadwork that catches the light. It’s beautiful and utterly Amadonian, yet somehow feels right for Christmas.
My mates flank me, gorgeous in their formal leathers. Golden beads adorn Rif’s braided black hair. Stef’s electric-blue locks shine in the firelight. Jet’s white hair is pulled back, revealing the sharp angles of his face.
“You’re all stunning,” I breathe.
“We pale compared to you,” Rif says. His hand settles on my lower back. “Our omega outshines the stars.”
People approach throughout the evening, presenting their gifts. Not expensive items or grand gestures—handmade crafts, each carrying personal meaning.
An older beta gives me a carved comb made from her deceased mate’s horn—”So you carry his strength with you.”
A young alpha presents a blade he forged himself—”To protect what matters most.”
The beta child gives me her carved family figures—”So you remember we’re all family here.”
They accept each gift with tears and gratitude. These people have embraced Christmas not as a foreign custom but as an expression of values they already hold.
When it’s time for the feast, I’m overwhelmed by what Stef created. The tables groan with Amadonian delicacies served in Earth tradition—family-style, meant for sharing. The food is delicious, perfectly prepared.
And yes, there are cookies. Not Earth cookies, but small sweet cakes made from Amadonian ingredients that taste good.
“You did it. You made a perfect feast,” I whisper to Stef.
His hand finds mine under the table. “I had excellent motivation. I would do anything for your smile.”
After the feast comes the gift exchange with my mates.
Rif presents his first. A small, carefully wrapped package. Inside is a vial of cells. My cells. From Earth.
“When you arrived, D’Kali preserve dsamples of your original human biology. I got the scientists to get them for me. I thought you might wish to continue your research for the other human females here. And maybe our hybrid children, should we have any. To save others, as is your nature,” he says.
My hands shake as I hold the vial.
“I thought they were lost,” I whisper. I’d looked for them in the lab, and found nothing that D’Kali hadn’t contaminated.
“Nothing of yours is ever lost. Not while I live.”
Stef gift is a leather-bound book with pages of preserved parchment. The cover bears intricate carvings of all four of us.
Inside is a genealogy book. But instead of documenting existing lines, it starts with me. Adele. Founder of a new line. Matriarch.
“You worried about forgetting your family,” Stef says. “But you are also the beginning of something new. Our children will know their Earth grandmother through you. Will understand both worlds because you bridge them.”
I can’t speak past the lump in my throat.
Jet’s gift is a massive star chart, made with painstaking effort.
“This shows Earth’s location from Amadon, even though it’s far away.” His finger traces a line between two points. “So you never forget where you came from, but always know where home is.”
All three gifts acknowledge different parts of who I am. Scientist. Daughter. Omega. They don’t ask me to choose.
“I have gifts too,” I manage.
I retrieve items I’ve been working on. Hand-sewn items made from our nest materials, each infused with my scent.
For Rif: A cloak embroidered with symbols representing his strength and leadership.
For Stef: A scarf woven with patterns from memories he shared, carrying comfort.
For Jet: A shirt decorated with tiny representations of all his snow experiments—successes and failures.
“They’re not much—” I start.
“They’re perfect. Made by your hands. Holding your essence. These are treasures,” Jet says.
The celebration continues around us. People exchange gifts with genuine joy. Music swells. Children play with the floating spores, laughing as the lights respond to their movements.
This is Christmas. Not despite being different from Earth, but because it captures what matters: love, family, generosity, hope.
I’ve learned to embrace both halves of myself.
Later, we stand on the balcony overlooking the territory. The celebration has moved outside, where people dance and sing beneath the strange Amadonian sky. Torbjorn lands beside us, wearing his festive harness. He nuzzles my shoulder, and I stroke his flaming mane.
The floating spores drift around us like gentle snow. My three mates surround me, their purrs harmonizing into our version of Christmas caroling.
“Home isn’t where you’re from,” I breathe. “It’s who you’re with.”
“You are home,” Rif says, his arm banding around my waist.
“We all are,” Stef adds.
The words settle into my chest, warm and right. I lean into Rif's solid warmth, watching our people celebrate below. This is perfect. This moment, this feeling of belonging—
Then the cramp hits.
Not like the manageable pre-heat cramps I've been dealing with all day. This one steals my breath, doubling me over. My core clenches around nothing, demanding to be filled. This isn’t the gentle arousal of pre-heat. This is full heat and my body is demanding everything my alphas will give.
“Adele?” Jet's hand steadies me, but his touch only makes it worse. Better. I can't tell anymore.
The air thickens with my scent. Sweet and cloying and unmistakably omega in full heat. Slick gushes down my thighs, soaking through my beautiful gown in seconds. I'm drenched, desperate, aching so badly I want to claw my own skin off.
All three of my mates go absolutely still.
Their pupils blow wide, swallowing the color of their eyes until they're nothing but black voids of pure alpha need. Their instincts surge. Primal, possessive, feral. The careful control they've maintained all day shatters.
Rif's arm becomes an iron band around my waist. His other hand fists in my hair, pulling my head back to expose my throat. “Omega.”
The single word is barely human. It's a growl, a claim, a promise of what's coming.
“To her nest,” Stef snarls, already moving.
“But the celebration—” I try to form coherent thought, but another wave crashes through me. My knees buckle. Only Rif's grip keeps me upright.
“Is over.” Jet's voice has gone cold and deadly. “Our omega is in heat. Nothing else matters.”
Below, people have noticed. I can feel their attention like physical touches. Unmated alphas shift restlessly, their bodies responding to my scent despite the distance. Several take steps toward the castle before my mates' combined snarls freeze them in place.
“Mine,” Rif roars at the crowd. The sound echoes across the room, a primal declaration that makes every alpha below drop their gaze in submission. “Any male who approaches dies.”
He doesn't wait for acknowledgment. He sweeps me into his arms and turns toward the doors. Stef and Jet flank us immediately, weapons appearing in their hands.
Rif's bellow shakes the stones. “Lodin! Guard these doors. No one enters for any reason.”
“My lord.” Lodin appears from the shadows, taking in my state with one quick glance before his eyes carefully fix on a point past Rif's shoulder. Smart male. “It will be done.”
We're moving before he finishes speaking. Through hallways that blur together. Past wide-eyed servants who press themselves against walls. Down corridors I barely recognize because my vision keeps whiting out with need.
“Hurts,” I whimper against Rif's chest. My fingers clutch at him, nails digging into his shoulders. “Please, it hurts—”
“I know, omega.” His purr rumbles through me, but it's not the soothing sound from before. This is darker, edged with the same feral need consuming me. “We're going to fix it. Going to give you exactly what you need.”
“Please,” I sob. “Please, I need—”
“We know what you need.” Rif kicks open the door to our chambers. My nest sits in the center, heavy with our combined scents. “And we're going to give it to you. Over and over. Until you can't walk. Can't think. Can't do anything but take our cocks and beg for more.”
He deposits me in the nest. I strip my clothing, tearing the coat and dress as fast as I can before rolling to my knees and drop my head to the soft mattress, ass in the air, presenting like the desperate omega I am.
“So beautiful, omega. Such a perfect omega,” Rif growls.
My mates are naked, though I don't remember seeing them strip. Their cocks jut from their bodies. The knots at their bases are already beginning to swell in response to my heat scent.
“So perfect,” Stef breathes, his eyes roaming over my prone form. “Look at her, brothers. Our omega, desperate and willing and ours.”
“Presenting for her alphas,” Jet adds. His hand wraps around his cock, stroking slowly. “Begging to be bred.”
“Who do you belong to, omega?” Rif's voice cuts through my haze. “Tell us.”
“You,” I gasp. “All of you. Please, Rif, I need—”
“Say it properly.” He kneels at the edge of the nest but doesn't touch me. Doesn't give me what I'm dying for. “Tell your alphas what you need.”
The words tumble out in a desperate rush. “I need you inside me. Need your cocks, your knots, your seed. Need to be filled and claimed and bred. Please, alphas, please—”
Rif's is on me in a heartbeat, his massive body covering mine. His cock finds my entrance and thrusts in one brutal stroke.
I scream. Not in pain—there's no pain, only perfect, overwhelming fullness. My body stretches around him, accommodating his size like it was made for this purpose. Made for him.
“Fuck.” The word tears from Rif's throat. “How are you always so perfect, Adele?”
He doesn't wait for an answer. His hips start moving immediately, driving into me with powerful strokes that make the nest shake. Each thrust hits that spot deep inside that makes stars explode behind my eyes.
His teeth find my mating bite, worrying the sensitive flesh. “Take your alpha's cock. Let me feel how desperate you are for my knot.”
“Yes!” I clutch the furs as he pounds into me. “More, please, harder—”
“Greedy omega.” But his pace increases, each thrust driving deeper. His knot swells, catching on my entrance. “Going to fill you up. Going to knot you so full you leak my seed for days.”
The pressure builds impossibly fast. My body coils tighter and tighter, pleasure building to a breaking point.
“Come on my cock, omega. Show me how much you need this,” he growls
His knot pops inside me, swelling to lock us together. The stretch sends me over the edge. I come with a scream that echoes off the stone walls, my body clenching around him in rhythmic pulses.
Rif roars, his cock pulsing as he empties himself inside me. Heat floods my channel as rope after rope of cum fills me.
“Good omega,” he purrs against my neck. “Taking my seed so well. Going to give you so much you have no choice but to get pregnant.”
The words send aftershocks through me. My body clenches again, milking more from him.
“Beautiful,” Stef murmurs from somewhere nearby. “Look at her, Jet. Our omega, perfectly bred.”
“But not satisfied yet,” Jet observes. “Her heat demands more.”
He's right. Even locked on Rif's knot, even full of his seed, the ache inside me hasn't subsided. If anything, it's getting worse.
Rif rolls us to our sides, his knot still buried deep. Jet positions himself along my front, his mouth capturing mine in a searing kiss. His sandalwood scent floods my senses as his tongue sweeps into my mouth.
Stef leans over Jet's shoulder, his hands finding my breasts. His thumbs circle my nipples until they're hard points, then his mouth descends on one peak while his fingers work the other. The dual stimulation makes me moan into Jet's kiss.
“That's it, omega,” Rif murmurs behind me. “Let us tend to every part of you.”
His knot finally begins to deflate. When he pulls free, I whimper at the loss—the emptiness unbearable after being so perfectly filled. Seed floods out of me, hot and thick, coating my thighs and soaking into the nest. Perfect.
Jet lifts my leg, hooking it over his hip to open me wide. His cock slides through the mess between my thighs, coating himself in the mixture of my slick and Rif's release.
“Can't let our omega stay empty,” he growls against my lips. “Not for a second.”
He lines himself up and thrusts in one smooth motion, filling me before I can even process the loss of Rif. The angle is perfect. Deep and possessive, his cock dragging against that sensitive spot inside me with every movement.
“Yes!” The word tears from me as Stef's teeth close around my nipple. “Please, Jet—”
“I've got you.” His hands grip my hip and thigh, holding me in place as he drives into me with measured strokes. “Going to knot you just like Rif did. Fill you until you're overflowing.”
Stef releases my breast to capture my mouth, swallowing my moans. His cedar scent mingles with Jet's sandalwood and Rif's leather until I'm drowning in alpha pheromones. Behind me, Rif's hands stroke my back, my side, keeping constant contact.
“So beautiful like this,” Rif murmurs. “Passed between your alphas. Taking everything we give.”
Jet's pace increases, his hips snapping against mine. His knot catches on my entrance with every thrust, teasing but not yet locking. The friction is maddening.
“Need your knot,” I gasp when Stef breaks the kiss. “Please, Jet, I need—”
“Tell me what you need, omega.” His black eyes bore into mine. “Say it.”
“Need you to breed me. Need your knot locked inside me. Need your seed—” My words dissolve into a cry as his thumb finds my clit.
“Good omega.” He thrusts harder, deeper. “Always so perfect for us. So desperate to be filled.”
Stef's mouth returns to my breasts, alternating between sucking and gentle bites that send sparks straight to my core. Rif's hand slides down to cup my ass, his fingers teasing where Jet's cock stretches me open.
The combined sensations drive me higher. My body coils tighter and tighter, pleasure building to an impossible peak. Through our bond, I feel Jet's determination, his need to claim me as thoroughly as Rif did.
“Come for me,” Jet commands. “Let me feel you squeeze my cock.”
His knot pops inside, swelling to lock us together. The stretch sends me spiraling over the edge. I come with a scream that Stef swallows with another kiss, my body clenching rhythmically around Jet's length.
“Fuck—yes—” Jet's roar vibrates through me as his cock pulses, flooding me with his release. Heat fills me, mixing with what Rif left behind. “Take it all, omega. Every drop.”
His hips jerk as he empties himself, his knot keeping everything locked inside. Through our bond, his satisfaction pours into me—pride and possessiveness and absolute certainty that I'm his.
When the waves finally subside, we're all panting. Jet nuzzles into my neck, his purr starting up. Stef's hands gentle on my breasts, soothing where he'd been rough. Rif presses kisses along my shoulder.
“Perfect,” Stef murmurs. “Our omega is absolutely perfect.”
“And ours,” Rif adds. “Completely, thoroughly ours.”
Jet's knot keeps us locked together, his seed trapped deep inside me. I can feel the fullness, the heat of him, the way my body pulses around his length with aftershocks of pleasure.
But the ache hasn't gone away. My heat still burns beneath my skin, demanding more. I reach for my mates who hasn’t claimed me yet. “Stef. Want you.”
“As you wish, omega.” Stef wastes no time, positioning me on my hands and knees. My arms tremble, barely able to support my weight, but his hands steady me—one on my hip, one between my shoulder blades.
“Look at you,” he breathes, his palm smoothing down my spine. “Presenting so perfectly for your alpha. Such a good omega.”
His cock slides through my folds, coating himself in the mixture of my slick and my bond brothers' releases. The sensation makes me push back, seeking more.
“Patience.” His hand on my hip tightens, holding me still. “I'm going to take my time with you. Make sure you remember exactly who's claiming you.”
“Please, Stef—” I try to push back again, but he holds me firm.
“What do you need, omega? Tell your alpha.”
“Need you inside me. Need your knot. Need—” My words dissolve into a cry as he thrusts home in one powerful stroke.
The angle is devastating. On my hands and knees, he hits deep, his cock dragging against every sensitive spot inside me. My arms give out and I collapse onto my forearms, my ass still raised for him.
“That's it,” he growls, his pace immediately brutal. “Take what I give you. Show me how much you need your alpha's cock.”
Rif's hand slides into my hair. Jet's palm flattens against my lower belly.
“Can you feel her?” Stef asks, his voice strained. “Feel how tight she is? How perfectly she fits around me?”
“We can feel everything through the bond,” Jet murmurs. His thumb strokes my belly. “Can feel how close she is already.”
He's right. My body is already climbing toward another peak, sensitized from the previous orgasms. Every thrust drives me higher, pleasure coiling tight in my core.
“Not yet,” Stef commands when he feels me tightening around him. “You don't come until I say. Until I'm ready to knot you properly.”
“Can't—too much—”
“You can.” His hand leaves my hip to reach around, fingers finding my clit. “You're our strong omega. You can take everything we give and more.”
His fingers circle the sensitive bundle while his cock pounds into me relentlessly. The dual stimulation is overwhelming. I'm shaking, trembling on the edge of release, held back only by his command and my desperate need to please him.
“Good omega,” Rif praises, his hand tightening in my hair. “Fighting so hard to obey your alpha. We're so proud of you.”
“So perfect for us,” Jet adds. “Made to take our knots. Made to be bred.”
Stef's pace becomes erratic, his control fracturing. His knot begins to swell, catching on my entrance with every thrust. The friction is exquisite torture.
“Come for me now, omega. Let me feel you milk my knot,” he finally growls.
His knot pops inside, stretching me impossibly wide, and I shatter. The orgasm rips through me with devastating force, my body clenching around him in rhythmic pulses that seem to go on forever.
Stef roars, his hips grinding against my ass as his cock pulses. Heat floods me—so much heat, mixing with what's already inside me. His knot swells even larger, locking us together as he empties himself deep in my channel.
“Yes. Take it all. Every drop. Going to breed you so thoroughly you'll be heavy with our young by the time your heat breaks,” he hisses.
Through our bond, his satisfaction crashes into me—pride and possessiveness and absolute certainty that his seed will take root.
Stef stretches us out, carefully keeping his weight off me while his knot keep us together. I have to admit this is a perk of being an omega. This intimate time when I have a fragment of clarity while being in heat, knowing how gently they’re treating me. How carefully they hold me. How I feel how wanted I am. The bond leaves nothing to the imagination. His purr rumbles against my back, soothing and claiming at once.
Rif and Jet press close on either side, their hands stroking my sweat-dampened skin. Four bodies tangled in my scent-drenched nest, scents perfectly mingled.
“How do you feel, omega?” Rif asks softly.
“Full.” It's all I can manage. “So full.”
“And you'll stay that way.” Stef nuzzles the back of my neck. “For days. We'll keep you full and knotted and satisfied. Keep breeding you until your heat breaks and our seed takes.”
“Can't... can't possibly take more.”
“You will.” Jet's hand curves around my cheek, turning my face toward his. “Your heat has only just begun, omega. We have days yet. And we're going to spend every moment of it proving exactly who you belong to.”
The promise should terrify me. Instead, wrapped in their warmth, thoroughly claimed and filled, I feel only bone-deep contentment.
This is home. Not a place or planet or set of traditions.
This. Them. Us.
I drift off surrounded by my mates, their purrs harmonizing into a sound that feels like safety. Like belonging. Like home. Because with them, I'm finally, completely where I belong.
​
THE END