What happened next was a Gangbang.

They tried to be careful of her pregnancy, and Roxy could barely even work by the time they were done.

A/N: I knew what you guys were thinking hehe, but I am planning something.

When the haze of their passionate reunion finally began to settle, exhaustion crashed over Roxy’s frame. Her muscles, still fragile from the residual toll of the celestial formatting and entirely spent from the breathtaking demands of five towering apex predators, turned to absolute jelly. 𝗳𝐫𝚎𝗲𝚠𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝘃𝚎𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝗺

She let out a soft, breathless sigh, her head lulling forward.

Before her chin could even brush her collarbone, a pair of arms caught her. Zarek lifted her entirely out of the steaming water as effortlessly as if she weighed absolutely nothing. The freezing winter night air rushed in to bite at her wet skin, but it never landed.

Kaelen stepped out of the water simultaneously. The King of the North’s icy blue eyes flashed with absolute protective authority. He raised his hand, channeling a massive, localized surge of his Northern magic. He didn’t summon a blizzard; instead, he commanded the biting winter wind to completely part around them, creating a perfect, still vacuum of air that kept the freezing chill entirely at bay.

Torian was already on the snowy bank. The colossal White Tiger Alpha quickly gathered the heavy, fur-lined cloaks they had violently discarded earlier. He draped a massive, impossibly thick dire-wolf pelt entirely over Roxy’s shivering form, swathing her in absolute, suffocating warmth.

"I have her," Zarek rumbled, his voice a deep, gravelly vibration against Roxy’s cheek as he cradled her securely against his broad, blistering chest.

They did not walk back to the Iron-Wood Manor in silence. The agonizing, suffocating quiet that had poisoned the estate for the past three days was completely, entirely dead.

As they carried their exhausted, thoroughly loved Matriarch through the ancient pine trees and across the snowy courtyards, the air was filled with the deep, resonant sounds of Warlord adoration. Torian walked directly beside Zarek, a continuous, heavy, and incredibly protective feline purr violently vibrating in the center of his chest. It was a sound designed to soothe frightened cubs, and it washed over Roxy’s frazzled nervous system like a heavy, weighted blanket.

Caspian trailed his fingertips gently across the top of her dark curls, whispering soft, oceanic praises in the old aquatic tongue. Syris glided at the rear, his golden-green eyes sweeping the dark treeline with lethal, ancient vigilance, ensuring absolutely nothing in the Beastworld dared to look upon their Matriarch while she was vulnerable.

When Zarek finally kicked open the heavy mahogany doors to the master suite, the room felt entirely different. It was no longer a cold, isolated terrestrial cage. It was a Vanguard nest.

Zarek stepped toward the massive bed and gently, reverently lowered Roxy into the center of the mountain of furs.

The Kings descended upon her in a flurry of absolute, overbearing Warlord pampering. There was no hesitation, no lingering guilt, and no distance. They were completely, unapologetically ravenous for her proximity.

Caspian’s hands glowed with a soft, bioluminescent blue light as he pressed his palms against her calves, using his gentle aquatic magic to completely draw the lingering aches and physical exhaustion from her muscles. Kaelen sat behind her, grabbing a heavy, boar-bristle brush to meticulously, slowly work the tangles from her damp, dark curls. Torian immediately climbed onto the mattress, curling his colossal, heavily muscled frame entirely around her back, acting as a massive, living furnace.

Roxy completely melted into the furs, her brilliant green eyes fluttering shut. She was surrounded by the heavy, intoxicating scents of draconic smoke, winter pine, ocean salt, crushed swamp flora, and feral feline musk.

"You are completely hovering," Roxy murmured sleepily, a soft, incredibly content smile gracing her lips.

"We are never letting you out of our sight again," Torian grumbled into the skin of her shoulder, his purr violently increasing in volume. "If you want to walk down the hallway, I am carrying you. If you want to go to the gardens, you are taking a Warlord escort."

Roxy let out a weak, musical laugh, entirely too comfortable to argue with the Tiger Alpha’s overprotective, possessive logic.

As Kaelen finished brushing her hair and shifted to pull the heavy blankets up to her chest, Zarek claimed the space right beside her hip.

The terrifying, invincible King of the East—the Warlord who had incinerated entire enemy armies without a second thought—completely lost his fearsome edge. Zarek shifted onto his side, resting his large, heavily scarred head gently against the mattress, right beside the soft, pronounced swell of her pregnant belly.

His golden eyes, usually burning with lethal, volcanic authority, were completely soft, entirely melted into pools of liquid gold.

Zarek reached out his massive hand, his rough, calloused palm settling directly over her stomach. He stroked the skin with an impossible, breathtaking gentleness. The unborn Vanguard pup inside, recognizing the blistering, familiar heat of the Dragon Alpha, immediately gave a firm, answering kick against his hand.

Zarek’s breath hitched. A look of absolute, unadulterated wonder washed over his scarred features.

Then, the terrifying Dragon King did something entirely unexpected.

He leaned his face forward, pressing his lips directly against the warm skin of her stomach. And he whined.

It was a gruff, incredibly endearing, deep-throated draconic whine—a sound entirely rooted in feral, primal possessiveness. It wasn’t a sound of distress; it was the sound of a massive, apex predator being completely, helplessly overcome by his own biological instincts.

"I hate how long terrestrial gestation takes," Zarek grumbled, his gravelly voice muffled against her skin. He rubbed his cheek affectionately against her belly, his eyes darting up to look at her face. "It takes entirely too long, little Earthling."

Roxy blinked, completely caught off guard by the sudden complaint. "It’s nine months, Zarek. That’s standard."

"It’s an eternity," Zarek countered stubbornly, his golden eyes narrowing with dark, greedy intent. His large hand stroked the side of her waist, his thumb brushing over her hipbone. "I want another one."

Roxy’s jaw dropped. A startled, breathless laugh tore from her throat. "What? Zarek, I am literally pregnant right now! The baby isn’t even here yet!"

"I know," Zarek rumbled, entirely unashamed of his absolute, unyielding gluttony. He pressed another firm kiss to her stomach. "But the absolute second this one is born, I want to start on the next. I want a whole flight of them. I want to fill this entire Manor until we cannot walk down the halls without tripping over tails and scales. We lost too much time, Roxy. I want more of our family, and I want it immediately."

The sheer, unapologetic audacity of his draconic greed completely overwhelmed her. He wasn’t joking. The King of the East was entirely serious. He wanted to claim her over and over again, to build an absolute fortress of transmigrated offspring to ensure she could never, ever slip through his fingers again.

"You are an absolute menace!" Roxy laughed, the sound bright, clear, and completely devoid of any lingering terrestrial trauma. She reached down, threading her fingers through his dark hair, gently scratching the hard scales at the nape of his neck. "We have five children already, plus the one on the way! The Manor is already chaotic!"

"It is not chaotic enough," Torian chimed in from behind her, entirely validating the Dragon’s feral logic. "Zarek is right. We need more."

Roxy threw her head back against Torian’s chest, laughing until tears pricked the corners of her eyes. The sheer, overwhelming reality of their love was a beautiful, suffocating tide. They were greedy, possessive, and entirely obsessed with her. And for the first time in her existence, Roxy didn’t feel trapped by it. She felt completely, universally free.

The heavy, beautiful atmosphere of the master suite was practically vibrating with golden, Warlord joy.

But across the room, leaning casually against the massive, carved wooden bedpost, Syris gently cleared his throat.

The King of the Swamps had been watching the exchange with a soft, affectionate smirk playing on his elegant lips. However, the ancient, tactical Warlord brain behind his emerald eyes had never stopped calculating the shifting political tides of the Beastworld.

"While I entirely agree with the Dragon’s ambitious reproductive timeline," Syris drawled, his smooth, velvety voice cutting through the laughter like a perfectly aimed silver blade, "and I thoroughly intend to contribute to that chaos myself..."

Syris pushed off the bedpost, his expression shifting from indulgent husband to the sharp, cunning strategist of the Vanguard pack. He looked directly at Roxy, his emerald eyes entirely serious.

"...I am afraid expanding the nursery will have to wait," Syris concluded, crossing his arms over his chest. "Because now that our Matriarch is fully recovered, we have much larger, immediate matters to attend to."