Chapter 4
1139 Words
Ronan watched Calliope with a mixture of confusion and grudging awe as she planted her small hands on her hips and leveled both him and Silas with a stare sharp enough to slice through solid stone.
“Do I look like I’m guessing?” she demanded.
Silas straightened immediately. “No, Calliope. Of course not.”
“Then why,” she continued, tapping a finger against her notepad, “are you two acting like I need your approval to do my own job?”
Ronan crossed his arms mostly because his wolf wanted to pace. “We’re not questioning you.”
“You absolutely are,” she said. She jabbed her pen toward him. “And that’s adorable. Wrong, but adorable.”
Silas bit back a smile.
Calliope turned her attention to her nephew. “You promised to follow my guidance.”
Ronan exhaled through his nose. “And I meant it.”
“Good. You’ll accept the match I choose.” She flipped a page dramatically. “No whining.”
Silas nodded quickly. “We trust your instincts.”
Ronan added grudgingly"Mostly."
Calliope skewered him with another glare. “I know exactly who you need. And neither of you gets a say until I ask.”
That was why Calliope Wilder ran the most successful supernatural matchmaking service in the region, while Ronan and Silas ran Emberfall Pack. She had a gift: an uncanny, irritating, terrifyingly accurate gift for pinpointing compatible souls.
Calliope finally snapped her notebook shut. “Enough of this heavy talk. Sit. Dessert is ready.”
Silas perked up immediately. He never could resist Calliope’s desserts.
Ronan, though far more stoic, didn’t pretend he wasn’t interested. Calliope’s lemon-vanilla cake could make even the most stubborn Alpha fall to his knees.
They moved to her tiny living room, where plates were already setCalliope always knew when they’d give in. Silas dug in with quiet appreciation. Ronan took the first bite without shame.
Calliope watched them fondly. “You two worry too much.”
Silas’s smile faltered. “We just… want this to work.”
Her expression softened. “It will. But the right woman for an Alpha–Omega triad isn’t simple to find. She has to carry pieces of both your souls. She has to be strong enough for Ronan’s fire and tender enough for your emotional depth. rare combination.”
Ronan looked away. The truth was heavy. “We’ve met dozens of candidates. None of them sparked anything.”
“Which is why you came to me,” Calliope said. “And why do you listen when I tell you I’ve found someone.”
Silas blinked. “Already?”
Calliope’s smile was unbearably smug. “Yes.”
Ronan frowned. “Who?”
She lifted her teacup. “We’ll discuss it tomorrow. When she comes over.”
Silas froze. Ronan tensed. They knew exactly who lived across the hall.
Calliope winked. “Try not to scare her before dessert.”
****
Lena had barely changed into her soft pajama shorts and oversized sweater when her phone buzzed.
Calliope Wilder:
Cake is done. Come over.
Lena stared at the text. Of course Calliope knew she was craving something sweet. The woman had a sixth sense for emotional turbulence and sugar deficiencies.
And honestly? After the day she’d had and the elevator encounter that still had her pulse misbehaving she needed comfort.
She grabbed her slippers and crossed the hall.
Calliope opened her door before Lena even knocked. “Took you long enough. Go sit.”
“You scare me sometimes,” Lena muttered playfully as she stepped inside.
Calliope waved her off. “It’s part of my charm.”
Lena sank into the plush sofa, sighing at the smell of warm cake waiting for her. “This looks amazing.”
“It is,” Calliope said matter-of-factly. “Eat.”
Lena forked into the first bite without hesitation, her stress melting a little with each warm, buttery mouthful.
Then she noticed the notepad in Calliope’s lap.
Uh-oh.
“So,” Calliope began. “About your message.”
Lena nearly choked on cake. “Right. The message where I admitted I’m desperate.”
“You’re not desperate,” Calliope corrected. “You’re smart enough to ask for help. That’s rare.”
Lena pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I just… I don’t want to show up alone to this wedding. Not because I need a man but because if I don’t, Damian will twist it into a narrative.”
“And you don’t want him controlling the story,” Calliope said, reading her perfectly.
Lena nodded.
Her family had always been a tight, tangled knot. Damian had slipped right in with his charming smile and subtle cruelty, painting Lena as overly emotional, dramatic, sensitive. It took years for her to unlearn the lies he fed her and longer to admit how deeply they’d sunk in.
“You’re not a failure,” Calliope said gently. “You never have been. Anyone who made you feel that way was blind or foolish.”
The words hit harder than Lena expected. She blinked rapidly.
Calliope continued, businesslike now. “I’ve given your situation thought. And I have one question before we proceed.”
Lena braced herself.
“Have you ever considered a ménage?”
Lena choked so violently Calliope calmly handed her a napkin.
“WHAT?” Lena sputtered, cheeks flaming. “Calliope! Why would you”
The older woman blinked slowly. “Because the men who are ideal for you… come as a pair.”
Lena dropped her face into her hands. “Calliope…”
Calliope flipped a page on her notepad. “Do you know what a ménage is?”
“Yes!” Lena squeaked. “I’m not ninety!”
“Good,” Calliope said. “Then I don’t need to explain the logistics. But I will explain the emotional side.”
“Please don’t,” Lena begged.
Calliope ignored her completely. “Two men. Balanced. Equal. Different strengths. Each drawn to you for separate reasons. Together, they’re a whole. A triad.”
Lena groaned into her hands. “I came here for cake.”
“And you’re getting cake,” Calliope assured her, lifting her own fork. “But you’re also getting honesty. The world is bigger than you think. Your heart is bigger than you let yourself believe.”
Lena stared at the older woman, her stomach flipping confused, nervous, strangely… curious.
Calliope watched her with that knowing smile.
“You’ve already met them,” she said softly.
Lena froze.
The elevator.
The dark-haired one with tattoos.
The blond one with the devastating smile.
Oh. Oh no.
Calliope’s grin widened.
“Yes, dear. Those two.”
“And tomorrow” she added, tapping her notebook
“You're having tea with them.”
- Writer
