It’s rare when triplets are born. Especially when triplets are all three Alphas. In the werewolf world, twins and triplets share a soul. One soul. One mate.
Slate, Flint and Ridge Ashmoor are triplet alphas born to the Hollowmere pack. Treated like royalty, spoiled by the entire pack, raised to lead together. They always got what they wanted: wealth, power, even women fell to their knees for them. The last thing they cared about: finding a mate. They didn’t need one.
One day they were indulging with three different women. Slate had finished and pulled on a pair of basketball shorts. Cigarette lit, he sat at the edge of the bed. Hair disheveled. Light sheen of sweat glistening his skin. He took a long drag off his cigarette and suddenly smelled something…irresistible. Mouthwatering.
"Mate,"
his wolf growled. He abruptly shot up from the edge of the bed he was sitting on. Dropping his cigarette to the floor before rushing outside where the smell had come from. His brothers had a similar experience. Flint and Ridge followed just a couple of steps behind him, stopping their mid escapade. Flint managed to slide into a pair of jeans he left unbuttoned, while Ridge had managed nothing but a pair of black shorts.