Knot Your Fated M.U.S.E. (The Parazodiac Nexus #1)

25. Passion In The Heart Of Stillness

25

PASSION IN THE HEART OF STILLNESS

~NYX~

T hree days had passed since we arrived at the cottage—three days of peace so profound it felt unreal.

This place was more than a house; it was a sanctuary, a quiet corner of the world where time slowed down and memories could be made without the weight of the past. I’d spent much of it rediscovering simple joys: running my fingers through soft blades of grass, feeling the sun warm my skin, and listening to the low rumble of Atlas’s voice as he shared snippets of his life.

I hadn’t expected him to call this home.

Not a man like him, with his towering presence and commanding authority. But he’d surprised me yet again. I remembered the moment vividly, a conversation wrapped in the glow of golden light that filtered through the leaves.

“I would’ve expected a sprawling mansion for someone like you.” I’d been blunt—something about Atlas made it easier to speak my mind, even when uncertainty nipped at my heels.

He chuckled, the sound low and rich, as he leaned back on the porch swing. The chains creaked softly, the only noise besides the faint rustling of leaves.

“We could’ve had that,” he admitted, his voice carrying a note of humor. “Hell, there are a few we technically own. But flashy shit’s unnecessary.”

I tilted my head, intrigued.

“Why not? Most people with your resources would want to show it off.”

“Most people haven’t lived the kind of lives we have.” His tone grew quieter, thoughtful. “Money doesn’t fix what’s broken inside you. At best, it buys comfort. At worst, it becomes a way to distract yourself from what really matters.”

“And what matters to you?” I asked, my fingers brushing the edge of the quilt draped over my lap.

He didn’t answer immediately, his gaze fixed on the horizon.

“Memories,” he said finally. “When everything else is stripped away, that’s all you have left. Good ones. Bad ones. They shape you.”

I waited, sensing there was more.

“This place?” He gestured around us. “It’s ours because we built it together, for each other. When we each lost some part of ourselves — me with my eyes, Dante’s hearing, Kieran’s heartache, Vale’s body — it became clear that money wasn’t the solution. It’s just a tool. This house isn’t about showing the world we’ve got wealth. It’s about showing ourselves we’ve got stability.”

I bit my lip, struggling to find words that wouldn’t sound trite.

“And you’ve built that stability here?”

“We’re working on it,” he admitted, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “It wasn’t perfect before,” he confesses before his wrapped gaze meets my calm eyes. “But now…I think we solved the missing piece in that tier of perfection.”

That moment lingered in my mind as I stirred awake from my nap. I stretched, the oversized white shirt of his that I’d borrowed sliding down one shoulder. The late afternoon sun poured through the windows, casting the room in hues of amber and gold. My gaze shifted to the balcony, where I caught sight of Atlas standing quietly, his silhouette framed by the soft light.

He isn’t wearing his blindfold.

It struck me as odd, though I’d never questioned why he wore it in the first place. Something about prying into his vulnerability felt wrong, even if curiosity whispered incessantly in my ear, but to see it absent felt like some new task had been unlocked, desperate to be explored.

Sliding my feet to the floor, I moved toward the balcony. My steps were slow, deliberate—enough for him to hear me approach. Blind or not, I didn’t want to startle him. The last thing I wanted was to disturb the rare serenity that seemed to envelop him in this moment.

As I neared, I noticed the subtle tilt of his head, as he obviously senses my approach. It’s been nice with it just being us here. Sure, the others have come by from time to time, as if to give me some moments with us as twos and threes.

All four of them haven’t been in one space yet, and it could be to their intention of not overwhelming me. I’m thankful for it, but at the same time, I feel after today, I’d want to start sharing experiences with the four of them around.

My breath catches at the sight before me. Atlas stands bathed in dying sunlight, water droplets still clinging to broad shoulders that speak of strength carefully contained. The towel rides low on his hips, revealing a tapestry of scars that map stories of survival across tanned skin.

The shadows stir with appreciation, their song carrying notes of admiration for this alpha who dares show such vulnerability. No weapons, no tactical gear, no carefully maintained barriers – just raw truth written in the way he faces the setting sun despite damaged vision.

Something about his posture makes my heart clench with unexpected emotion.

He seems both impossibly strong and achingly vulnerable, the dichotomy creating an urge to protect that catches me completely off guard. The absence of his usual blindfold feels significant – as if he's offering a glimpse behind carefully maintained defenses.

A lump forms in my throat as realization strikes deeper.

Three days.

Just three days of shared moments and gentle discoveries, yet Atlas has become as essential as breathing. Every small interaction builds something profound between us – from morning coffee shared in comfortable silence to evening conversations that stretch until exhaustion claims victory.

The shadows whisper understanding of my growing panic. They recognize the fear that grips my chest – fear of losing this connection before it fully forms, the fright taunting the idea of returning to sterile halls before truly experiencing all this Alpha offers.

Fear of time slipping away before I can properly understand the true potential between an Alpha and Omega…

Two weeks. The deadline hovers at the edges of consciousness, marking days until a choice must be made. Stay or return. Accept pack bonds or face familiar torment. The decision should be simple given the stark contrast between options, yet anxiety still claws at my chest.

What if Ravenscroft doesn’t keep to their word? That there’s some underlying ploy to get back at the men that saved me from that ongoing cycle of agony and torment. It can’t be that easy to escape their clutches without consequences…right?

Unable to resist the pull any longer, I close the final distance between us.

My arms wrap around his waist from behind, face pressing between the curve of his back that’s still damp from his shower. The gesture carries more vulnerability than I've shown since arriving, but something about this moment demands honesty.

He doesn't tense at the contact.

If anything, his muscles relax further as if he'd been waiting for exactly this touch. Before I can second-guess the boldness of my action, he turns within the circle of my arms. His hands find my waist with unerring accuracy, drawing me closer as if proximity might ease whatever distress he senses.

"What's troubling our little Goddess?" The whispered question carries genuine concern tinged with something deeper – as if my pain causes him physical distress.

Only then do I realize tears have escaped without permission. The revelation forces my gaze upward, seeking answers in a face I've only seen partially hidden behind silk wrapping.

The sight steals my breath completely.

X-shaped scars mark each eyelid, the silvered lines precise in their cruelty. Someone took deliberate care in marking him, in attempting to steal his sight through calculated violence. The shadows stir with fury at such targeted brutality, their song carrying notes of vengeance denied proper outlet.

If only I knew who possibly could have done this to him.

I’d hunt them down…even if the outside of Ravenscroft is new territory never explored, I would have sought justice in a heartbeat.

Regardless of my internal vows and imagined implications, his eyes themselves capture my complete attention. Though clouded with whiteness that speaks of permanent damage, amber still burns beneath like banked flames of stunning eyes. The color matches perfectly with the photograph of his younger self, though time and trauma have softened its brilliance. Movement flickers in their depths – not completely blind then, but limited to shapes and shadows rather than clear vision.

The discovery feels profound — this alpha who leads with such precision despite damaged sight, who navigates the world through other senses yet never uses his limitation as an excuse or crutch.

The scars speak of torture he survived, of cruelty endured and overcome, of strength forged through adversity rather than broken by it.

My fingers rise without conscious thought, hovering near but not quite touching the marks that forever altered his world. It’s crazy to acknowledge how Atlas's scars echo my own – evidence of torture survived and transcended.

"Who?" The question emerges barely above a whisper, weighted with fury at whoever dared mark him so deliberately. He must see the determination in my eyes. How I’d go across every piece of land, every alleyway and nook just to find the culprit of such permanent wounds that were underserved.

No matter what someone may have done, this level of cruelty shouldn’t be entertained.

Knowing Altas for a few days gave me a strong level of confidence that he was doing something helpful for someone, and the results left this permanent stain of a past.

His slight smile carries no bitterness, only acceptance of the past that cannot be changed.

"Story for another time, little Goddess." His thumb brushes tears from my cheek with impossible gentleness. "Your distress matters more than old wounds."

The deflection should frustrate, but something in his tone suggests sharing will come naturally with time. Just as he never pushes for details of my trauma before I'm ready to offer them, he keeps certain hurts private until trust builds strong enough to bear their weight.

"I'm scared," the admission slips out before wisdom can silence it. "Three days feels like forever and nothing at all. Like I'm finally learning to breathe properly only to face losing everything again."

His arms tighten fractionally, drawing me closer until I can rest my head against his chest. His heartbeat provides a steady rhythm beneath my ear while his scent wraps around us both like a shield against darker thoughts.

"No one takes you back there," the words rumble through his chest with absolute conviction. "Two weeks is a formality, not a true choice. You belong here…with the pack that you’ll get to learn and use. With me…For as long as you choose to stay."

"But what if..." The question catches in my throat, weighted with years of conditioning. "What if I'm not what you need? What if these moments of peace are illusion rather than reality?"

Atlas's hand slides into my hair, cradling the back of my head with infinite care.

"These moments are more real than anything in those sterile halls. Your presence here, your growing trust, your willingness to show vulnerability…it all speaks to strength they tried and failed to break. It presents a process, despite how frightening all this change creates and invites. "

It’s intriguing how he makes it sound so easy despite how I struggle to accept; that survival itself marks victory over their careful programming, that maintaining capacity for trust despite systematic betrayal speaks to an unbreakable spirit.

"I don't want to wake up," the whispered confession carries years of accumulated fear. "Don't want to discover this has been an elaborate dream. That I'm still their M.U.S.E., still trapped in endless experiments, still..."

His kiss silences spiraling thoughts. It’s not something I’m expecting, but the way my body immediately melts at his touch is undeniably relieving.

Another constant reminder that I’m not broken.

The kiss is not demanding or possessive but a gentle reassurance of reality. His lips brush mine with infinite care, the contact grounding me in the present moment rather than darker possibilities.

The shadows hum appreciation of such tender intervention, their usual caution transformed into something approaching peace.

When he pulls back, those amber eyes fix on mine with surprising accuracy despite their damaged state.

"Feel this?" His hand finds mine, pressing it against his chest where a steady heartbeat proves his solid presence. "Dreams can't replicate physical sensation this precisely. Can't capture exact notes in my scent or perfect pressure of skin against skin."

He’s right.

I know he’s right.

And what I’m thankful for is the idea that he won’t get tired of having to reassure me when my emotions and insecurities get the better of me.

I press my lips together, feeling my chest tighten as my fingers lightly rest against his chest, the heat of his skin radiating into my touch. Beneath my palm, I can feel the steady rhythm of his heart, strong and grounding, and yet my voice trembles when I finally speak.

"I just…I hope you don’t get tired of me," I whisper, barely able to meet his gaze. My cheeks flush, and I force myself to continue, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. "I know I’m not perfect…far from it. But I want to prove that I can be the Omega you and your pack deserve. I want to be worth the faith you’re putting in me."

Atlas chuckles softly, the sound a warm rumble that vibrates through me. His reaction isn’t mocking, though—it’s reassuring like he finds my worries endearing rather than a burden. He leans in closer, his forehead brushing mine, and I’m captivated by how his strength feels so steady, so effortless.

"You don’t grasp how perfect you already are," he murmurs, his voice low and intimate, sending shivers through me. "My pack never thought we’d have the chance of an Omega again, and yet here you are, in my grasp, thinking you’re something we can replace, when you’re a diamond we thought would never be found in a minefield.”

My breath hitches as his words settle into me, wrapping around all the insecurities I’ve tried to bury. His certainty feels tangible, like a warm blanket against the cold doubts that whisper I’ll never be enough.

Slowly, I let my hands drift upward, trailing over the hard planes of his chest, feeling the way his muscles shift and tense beneath my touch. Every inch of him feels like a revelation, and I savor the way he holds himself so still, watching me with quiet intensity.

"Do you…well…you can’t see me?" I ask softly, the question escaping before I can think twice. I want to know if it’s just darkness or if he can get a glimpse of me.

His lips twitch with the barest hint of a smile, and his head tilts slightly as if considering how to answer.

"Not fully," he admits, his voice calm and steady. "I can see shapes, shadows…colors. I can definitely see you, little Goddess. Blurry and not as clear as I’d like, but plenty to contribute to my imagination,” he confesses. “Everywhere else, it’s enough to navigate, but not enough to truly see legally."

My fingers pause mid-trail, and I frown.

"Then why the blindfold? If you can see even a little, why hide it?"

His smile fades slightly, replaced by an expression I can’t quite place—tired, maybe, but not bitter.

"The blindfold stops people from asking stupid questions," he says, a note of dry humor in his tone. "It keeps them from staring too long or, worse, looking at me with pity. It’s easier this way…to let them believe what they want rather than face their awkwardness."

I bite my lip, hesitating before pressing,

"But why show me?"

His eyes soften, and he steps closer, his hands sliding to rest lightly on my waist.

"Because there’s nothing to hide from you, Nyx," he says simply, emphasizing the importance of using my name. "You’re my Omega. You’ll see every part of me—the scars, the past, the truths I keep from the world. I trust you with that."

His words hit me like a punch to the chest, and I can feel the prick of tears behind my eyes. I blink quickly, trying to keep them at bay, but the weight of his honesty is overwhelming.

My hands move higher on their own, brushing over his shoulders as I fight to find my voice.

"I…" My voice wavers, and I press my lips together, steeling myself. "What if I want…to continue where we left off?" I whisper, my cheeks burning as I force myself to meet his gaze. "Except…all the way."

His smirk is instant, the corner of his mouth tugging up in that infuriatingly confident way that makes my stomach flip. He leans in, his lips so close to mine that I can feel his breath, warm and teasing against my skin.

"Are you comfortable diving into that so soon?" he asks, his tone half-amused but layered with genuine care.

I nod, my hands tightening slightly against his chest as I try to hold his gaze. "I want it to be you first," I confess, my words tumbling out in a rush before I lose my nerve. "I know it might sound crazy, but I trust you. I feel safe with you. And I know—" I swallow hard, my voice growing quieter. "I know that with you, it’ll be gentle. It’ll be what I choose. And that matters to me more than anything."

His smirk softens, transforming into something so tender it steals my breath. His hand lifts, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from my face as he studies me, his expression unreadable. "Nyx," he murmurs, his voice impossibly soft. "Our little Goddess…you have no idea how much it means to me that you’d choose this—choose me. But I need to be sure. Are you absolutely certain this is what you want?"

I nod again, firmer this time, and my hands slide down to rest over his heart.

"I’m certain," I whisper. "I’ve lived too long without choices, Atlas. This one? This one is mine to make. And I want it to be you."

He exhales slowly, and I watch as the tension melts from his shoulders. His amber eyes, though clouded, find mine with startling accuracy, and he cups my face gently, his thumb brushing my cheek as he leans in. His lips meet mine in a kiss that’s as much a promise as it is a question, soft and searching.

I kiss him back, pouring everything I can’t put into words into that connection. I may not be an experienced kisser, but it doesn’t seem to bother Atlas in the slightest because he always guides me, and embraces this novice part, knowing in time, I’ll get better.

With experience, I’ll learn and grow in a way that can feed his needs and my pack.

My hands move instinctively, tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. His arms tighten around me, anchoring me as the world around us fades away. There’s nothing but him—the warmth of his skin, the intoxicating scent of him, the way his lips feel like a grounding force amidst the storm of my thoughts.

His lips trail down to my jaw, then my neck, leaving a path of heat that makes me shiver. I arch into him, the nervous tension in my body melting into uncontrollable but vibrant desire— a sensation I don’t want to let go of until I’ve experienced it at its peak.

His hands move carefully, reverently, as though he’s afraid of pushing too far, and when they find the hem of my shirt, he pauses.

His gaze lifts to mine, seeking permission, and I nod, lifting my arms to help him slip the fabric over my head. The cool air kisses my skin, but it’s nothing compared to the warmth of his hands as they skim over me. Matched with the last rays of sunlight that play against our flesh, it feels like such a liberating experience to be naked in the outdoors. As though this significant experience must start outside confined walls, like a reminder of the freedom I’ve gained.

His gaze roams over my body, reverent and unhurried, the two of us breathless as we fight for oxygen. I can’t bring myself to feel shy under his scrutiny, which feels even more empowering to keep his gaze, falling in love with the sight of him without the blindfold.

The sight of seeing him in all his glory .

"You’re beautiful," he murmurs, his voice filled with awe.

The sincerity in his tone makes my cheeks flush, but I don’t shy away. I meet his gaze, letting him see every part of me, as he allows me in return.

“I’m sorry if my…my scars are a bit distracting,” I confess shyly. It’s so random to bring up, but I can already recall the Alpha guards who would watch us strip as we got ready for various tests and trials. “It’s not perfect like other Omegas, but—mhmmm.”

The kiss he gives me is soft at first, his lips tracing mine with a gentleness that feels at odds with the fire roaring to life inside me.

But it doesn’t stay gentle for long.

His mouth moves with purpose, claiming me, and when his teeth catch my bottom lip, a shiver races down my spine. I feel myself leaning into him, the world narrowing until all I know is Atlas—the heat of him, the weight of his touch, and the quiet reverence in the way he holds me like I’m something precious.

When he finally pulls away, I gasp for air, my lips tingling from the force of his kiss.

My gaze flickers to his face, my fingers still pressed against the hard muscle of his chest. He looks at me with a fierceness that steals my breath all over again, his voice low and rough when he speaks.

"Every time you try to speak badly about this body," he mutters, his lips brushing against mine with every word, "I’m going to drown you in so much love that it’ll be hard to breathe."

My cheeks flame, heat spreading across my face and down my neck as I try to form a coherent response. But he doesn’t give me the chance. His hand slides along my jaw, tilting my head back as he peppers soft, deliberate kisses across my face—my forehead, my cheeks, the corners of my lips. Each one feels like a promise like he’s trying to convey something that words could never capture.

He leans back just enough to meet my gaze, his amber eyes glinting in the golden light of the setting sun.

"This is the body that survived endless cruelty, Nyx," he says softly. "It got you out of situations that should have killed you. It stayed healthy, and strong, even when the world tried to break you. And thanks to your perseverance, it remained pure…just for me."

My breath catches, and I press my hands to his chest, unable to look away as his words wash over me. There’s no pity in his voice, no condescension. Just truth. A truth I hadn’t dared let myself believe.

He cups my cheek, his thumb brushing a stray tear from my face as his voice drops even lower.

"This body is a temple, Nyx. And it deserves to be worshipped…just like you."

I barely have time to process his words before he lowers himself to his knees, his hands sliding down my sides as he goes. My breath hitches as he looks up at me, his eyes filled with reverence so deep it feels like it might undo me.

"Atlas," I whisper, my voice shaky, but he doesn’t reply. Instead, he leans forward, pressing a kiss to my hipbone, just above where the waistband of my underwear would be. His lips trail lower, his breath hot against my skin, and I feel myself trembling beneath his touch.

He pauses when he reaches the top of my thighs, his hands gripping my hips lightly as he glances up at me.

"Spread your legs for me," he murmurs, his voice a low, velvety command.

I hesitate for a moment, the shyness creeping back in, but his steady gaze holds me in place. There’s no judgment there, no impatience. Just quiet encouragement.

Swallowing hard, I shift my feet apart, my cheeks flaming as I feel the slickness between my thighs.

His grip on my hips tightens slightly, and he leans in, inhaling deeply. The sound he makes—a low, guttural growl—sends a fresh wave of heat rushing through me.

"You smell incredible," he murmurs, his lips brushing against my inner thigh as he speaks. "I could drown in your scent, my sweet little Goddess."

My thighs tremble as he lays a series of kisses along the sensitive skin, each one igniting tiny sparks of pleasure that dance across my nerves.

I try to stay still, but it’s impossible. My body reacts to him without permission, arching toward his touch, craving more.

When his lips brush higher, so close to where I ache for him most, I gasp, as my hands firmly grip his shoulders.

"Atlas," I whisper, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart. He glances up at me again, his hands steadying my shaking legs.

"Do you want me to keep going?" he asks, his voice gentle but laced with an intensity that makes my knees weak.

I nod, unable to form the words, and he smiles — a slow, satisfied curve of his lips that makes my stomach flip.

"Good girl," he murmurs, and the praise sends a thrill through me that I can’t begin to explain.

He takes his time, his lips and tongue exploring every inch of my thighs, every kiss deliberate and slow as if he’s savoring the taste of my skin. My breath comes in shallow gasps, my fingers digging into his shoulders as the tension in my body coils tighter and tighter.

The setting sun bathes upon and past us with golden light, casting a warm glow over his flesh and the hard lines of his body. The sight of him like this — on his knees before me, his hands and mouth worshipping me with a devotion I’ve never known —burns itself into my memory.

His lips press another kiss to my inner thigh, softer this time, almost teasing, before his voice rumbles low, sending shivers up my spine.

"You're not wearing underwear."

I freeze, heat rushing to my cheeks so fast it feels like I might combust. My heart stutters in my chest, and I don’t know whether to laugh or curl into myself. Before I can decide, he shifts, his lips hovering just above where I ache for him most, his breath warm against my skin.

"You weren’t planning on telling me, were you?" His tone is amused, but there’s something darker laced within it, hauntingly defiant that makes my stomach flip.

The blush spreading across my cheeks deepens, and I stammer, trying to find a defense.

"I… I didn’t think I needed to," I mumble, my voice barely above a whisper. Then, summoning courage I don’t know where I found, I add, "Do I? When I’m with you and the pack?"

That earns me a reaction.

His head tilts slightly, the corner of his mouth curving into a slow, almost defiant smirk. The golden light of the setting sun catches the sharp lines of his face, making him look like a predator who’s just cornered his prey.

"If you’re going to tease us like this, little Goddess," he says, his voice dropping an octave as his hands grip my thighs, pulling me slightly closer, "then you’ll need to be prepared for the consequences."

My breath catches.

"Consequences?" I manage, my voice trembling, though I’m not sure if it’s from nerves or anticipation.

He doesn’t answer immediately.

Instead, his smirk deepens, and his head dips lower, his eyes fixed on me as he presses an open-mouthed kiss to my core. My gasp is instant, my body jerking at the unexpected contact.

"If you’re going to forego underwear," he murmurs against my skin, his voice a tantalizing growl, "then this is how you’ll always feel after taunting us all day long."

Before I can respond, his tongue slides against me, and every coherent thought vanishes from my mind.

The sensation is overwhelming, foreign in the most exquisite way. His tongue moves slowly at first, exploring, tasting, and every deliberate stroke sends jolts of pleasure radiating through my body.

A shaky moan escapes me, and my hands clutch at him, desperate for some kind of anchor. My thighs tremble, but his hands are there, steadying me, his grip firm enough to hold me in place without making me feel trapped.

"Atlas," I whisper, my voice trembling, but I don’t know what I’m asking for.

He hums against me, the vibrations making me shudder, and then his tongue flicks against a spot that has me gasping, my back arching involuntarily.

The sound that escapes me is one I’ve never heard myself make before — a mix of gasps and moans, high and breathless.

"Does it feel good?" he asks, pulling back just enough to speak, his lips brushing against me with every word.

"So good," I moan, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart. "Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop."

His chuckle is dark, and I feel it more than I hear it as he presses another kiss to my folds.

"Good," he murmurs, and then his tongue is back, sliding between my slick folds, stroking and teasing with a skill that leaves me breathless.

It’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.

Every movement of his tongue sends sparks of pleasure shooting through me, building a heat low in my belly that grows more intense with every passing second. He takes his time, alternating between long, languid strokes and focused attention on the bundle of nerves that has me trembling and gasping.

My moans grow louder, my body arching into him, desperate for more. His hands grip my thighs, holding me steady as he works, his tongue slipping lower to explore, to taste, and then back up to circle and tease until I’m a trembling, moaning mess beneath him.

"Atlas," I gasp, my hands finding their way into his hair. My fingers tangle in the soft strands, holding on as if letting go might send me spiraling. "I…I’m so close."

His response is a low, satisfied hum against me, and he doesn’t pull back this time.

Instead, he lets me take control, lets me move my hips against his mouth, grinding against him as the pressure in my core builds to an unbearable peak.

My breaths come faster, uneven, and shallow, and my vision blurs as I chase that feeling, that high that feels just out of reach.

His tongue is relentless, stroking and teasing and tasting in a way that makes my whole body feel like it’s on fire.

And then it happens.

The wave crashes over me, sudden and all-consuming, and I go still, my body trembling as the pleasure tears through me.

My mouth opens in a silent cry, my head falling back as every nerve in my body lights up, the intensity of it, unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.

"Atlas," I whimper, my voice shaky, my body quivering as the aftershocks roll through me. My hands tighten in his hair, my legs trembling against his shoulders, and I feel his grip on my thighs steadying me, grounding me as I come down from the high.

It’s not that I’ve never had an orgasm before. But this? It’s as though such pleasure evolved and is all-consuming. It’s not just the physical release — it’s the way his touch feels like worship, the way he looks at me like I’m the only thing that matters in the world.

When he finally pulls back, his lips glistening, his eyes meet mine, and the look in them steals the breath from my lungs. He enjoys licking his lips, as if my taste is the sweetest taste he’s ever enjoyed before he stands up, his hands sliding up my sides until he’s peering down at me once more. He doesn’t hesitate to lean forward, and presses a soft, lingering kiss to my lips, allowing me to taste myself in his mouth.

He deepens the touch; the two of us lost in a heated kiss as if we haven’t had enough of one another.

“Do you want to continue,” he whispers after he breaks the kiss.

“Yes,” I practically plead, allowing my eyes to show just how much I want him. Need him. Even if he can barely see the details, I feel as though he senses my desperation. How badly I want more of this thrilling connection to keep going without end.

“Our little goddess is learning how to ask for what she wants,” he hums in praise and kisses before tugging lightly on my bottom lip. “That’s my good Omega.”

Hearing him praise me drives me wild, my body humming in satisfaction as it feels like my slick is begging to slide down my thigh once more.

Atlas pulls back slowly, the deliberate grace of his movements keeping me grounded as I recover from the storm he just unleashed inside me.

His hands remain gentle as they slide along my waist, holding me upright. The sun outside is nearly gone now, its amber glow giving way to twilight, casting long shadows across the room.

He takes my hand in his, his warmth steady and reassuring, and leads me back inside.

The air shifts as we cross the threshold into the bedroom, the soft rustle of curtains brushing against the window the only sound besides the faint hum of my breathing. The bed looms ahead, a plush oasis that suddenly feels far too inviting.

My pulse quickens as he guides me to it, his hand firm but comforting on my lower back.

I lower myself onto the mattress, the cool sheets a contrast to the heat that still lingers on my skin.

Atlas steps back slightly, watching as I inch back toward the headboard, my hands finding purchase on the pillows that await me. The movement feels vulnerable, and exposed, and yet I can’t look away from him. He slowly unwraps the towel from his waist and drops it to the floor.

He stands before me, utterly bare, and I can’t help but drink him in.

The powerful lines of his body, the way his muscles flex and shift beneath his skin, the scars that map his journey—it all feels overwhelming in its perfection.

My gaze trails lower, lingering on his shaft, and my lips part slightly in surprise.

He’s massive.

I’ve seen Alphas at the lab before, their crude displays as they shamelessly jerked themselves off in front of us Omegas, claiming it was a “blessing” for us to witness.

It was degrading and vile, meant to remind us of their power, their supposed superiority. But this? This is nothing like that.

Atlas doesn’t carry himself with arrogance.

There’s no mockery in his stance, no need to dominate through humiliation. He stands there, strong and sure, letting me take him in without rushing me, his confidence quiet but unshakable.

It’s ironic, really. The Alphas in the lab thought their displays were something we should revere. But now, faced with a true Alpha who carries none of that ego, I finally understand what they’ll never be.

Atlas is more of an Alpha in his quiet reverence than they could ever hope to be in their blustering cruelty.

He climbs onto the bed, moving slowly, giving me time to adjust to his approach.

I can’t help the way my tongue darts out to wet my bottom lip, and I notice the way his eyes follow the movement, darkening slightly. My heart stutters in my chest as he reaches me, his body hovering over mine, the heat of him brushing against my skin without fully touching me.

And then he kisses me.

It’s not the rushed, demanding kiss I might have expected. It’s long and deep, his lips moving against mine with a purpose that feels almost reverent. Time seems to stretch and bend around us, the world outside fading into insignificance.

There’s only him, only this moment, and the realization hits me with a startling clarity. I have all the time in the world with him. We can make love all night if we want to, and Atlas will make it feel like it’s the only thing that matters.

His lips leave mine, trailing down to my neck, where he presses open-mouthed kisses along my skin.

Each one feels like a brand, a mark of something far deeper than possession. He lingers at the curve of my shoulder, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin before sucking lightly.

I gasp, my back arching slightly, and he chuckles softly against me.

His mouth moves lower, finding the swell of my breasts. His hands follow, calloused fingers grazing the sensitive peaks before his lips close around one nipple.

The heat of his mouth sends a jolt of pleasure through me, and I can’t stop the moan that escapes my lips. He alternates between gentle sucks and light flicks of his tongue, each movement drawing me closer to the edge of reason.

"Atlas," I moan, my hands gripping the sheets as he teases me. The sensation is almost too much, a high I never expected could feel so defining.

Slick pools between my legs, my arousal unmistakable, and I feel it dripping along my folds, adding to the heat building between us.

He switches to my other breast, giving it the same attention, and I writhe beneath him, my body completely at his mercy. The stimulation is incredible, a crescendo of sensation that leaves me gasping for air. I can see now why sex is often described as an addictive act—this is only the beginning, and I’m already desperate for more.

But this isn’t the main course. Not yet.

Atlas’s hands slide down my sides, his touch deliberate and steady as he trails kisses along my abdomen.

He doesn’t stop until he’s settled between my legs, his broad shoulders nudging them apart. My cheeks burn as I realize how exposed I am, but his expression is anything but judgmental.

He looks up at me, his eyes searching mine. "Are you ready?" he asks softly, his voice low and steady, grounding me even as my heart races.

Before I can answer, his fingers find me, stroking gently along my folds, gathering the slickness there.

The touch is exploratory, careful as if he’s mapping every reaction, every gasp and shiver. He slides one finger inside me, and I gasp, the sensation both strange and wonderful. He adds a second, stretching me slowly, and I moan, my head falling back against the pillows.

He works me gently, his fingers curling and stroking in a way that has my toes curling and my breath coming in ragged pants. My slick coats his hand, and I know he’s doing this on purpose — preparing me, stretching me, making sure I’m ready for what’s to come.

When he finally pulls his fingers free, leaving me trembling and on the brink of release, he asks again.

"Are you ready?"

This time, I nod, my voice failing me as I watch him.

He sits back slightly, his hand wrapping around his shaft, stroking himself slowly. My eyes are drawn to the bead of precum pooling at the tip, and it hits me just how much he needs me, too.

He’s just as desperate for this as I am.

Atlas positions himself at my entrance, the head of his shaft nudging against my slick folds, and my breath catches. He’s so much larger than anything I imagined, and the anticipation alone sends a shiver racing through my body.

His gaze finds mine, steady and grounding, and his hand comes up to cup my cheek.

"Relax, little Goddess," he murmurs, his voice soft but firm. "I’ll take care of you. Let me know if it’s too much."

I nod, my fingers clutching the sheets beneath me as I try to focus on the soothing cadence of his voice.

Slowly, so slowly, he begins to press forward. The stretch is immediate, my body resisting the intrusion at first, but Atlas is patient.

He doesn’t rush, moving inch by inch, watching my every reaction as he fills me.

When he reaches a point of resistance, I tense instinctively, a faint whimper escaping my lips. He stills, leaning forward until his face is close to mine, and his lips brush against mine in a tender kiss.

"Relax for me, Nyx," he whispers against my mouth, his free hand sliding up to cup my breast. His thumb grazes my nipple, sending a jolt of pleasure through me that momentarily distracts me from the discomfort. "You’re doing so well. Just breathe."

I close my eyes, focusing on the feel of his mouth on mine, the warmth of his hand as it kneads my breast.

My body softens under his touch, and when he begins to move again, inching past that barrier, I gasp at the sharp sting that follows.

Pain blossoms briefly, but it’s nothing like the agony I’ve endured in the past. This is different—more heat than hurt, more pressure than pain.

Atlas doesn’t stop kissing me, his lips moving with an urgency that keeps me anchored in the moment. His hand on my breast is gentle, his touch deliberate, and it’s enough to distract me, to make the burn manageable.

"You’re perfect," he murmurs, his voice low and strained as he slides deeper. "So tight, so warm… You’re incredible, my little goddess. My sweet, Nyx."

His praise sends a rush of warmth through me, and I can’t help the small smile that tugs at my lips despite the ache.

Inch by inch, he takes me, his movements unhurried and precise, until he’s fully seated inside me. My body quivers at the intrusion, the fullness almost overwhelming, and I moan, my head falling back against the pillows.

Atlas stays perfectly still, his chest rising and falling in shallow breaths as he gives me time to adjust. His forehead rests against mine, and his voice is a strained whisper when he speaks.

"You’re amazing, little Goddess. Giving me the privilege of being your first…I’ll never take it for granted. I promise I’ll always make you feel good, just like I will now."

The sincerity in his tone makes my chest tighten, and I nod, my hands gripping his shoulders as I cling to his words. He kisses me again, slow and deep, and when he pulls back, his amber eyes meet mine.

"I’ll take it slow," he says, his thumb brushing over my cheek. "I won’t move too far or too fast. But if you need me to stop, you say the word, and I will. No questions asked. Do you understand?"

I nod, unable to find my voice, and hum a soft "mhmm" in response. His lips curve into a small smile before he leans down to kiss me again, and this time, there’s more heat, more fire in the way his mouth moves against mine.

When he begins to move, the sensation is unlike anything I’ve ever felt. He pulls out slowly, almost entirely, before sliding back in, his movements careful and deliberate.

The lingering pain fades with each thrust, replaced by a dull ache that’s almost pleasant in its own way.

"You feel so good," Atlas murmurs, his voice a rough whisper that sends shivers down my spine. "So tight, so perfect around me. You were made for this, Nyx—for me."

His words send a rush of heat through me, and I moan softly, my hands sliding up to tangle in his hair. His thrusts are measured, his pace steady, and with each movement, the ache gives way to something new.

A spark of pleasure ignites low in my belly, growing stronger with every slow glide of his body against mine.

"You look incredible," he murmurs, his lips brushing against my ear as he speaks. "Even when you’re dazed from the pleasure… especially then."

I moan again, louder this time, as the pleasure begins to build, each stroke of his hips pushing me closer to a high I’m desperate to reach.

It feels so good. So damn good.

Not simply because of the action but the way Atlas flawlessly executes this. The security and comfort that every thrust brings, while welcoming shots of pleasure and tremors of lust that build and hum in delight.

My body responds instinctively, my hips rising to meet his thrusts, and the friction sends a sharp spike of pleasure shooting through me.

"Atlas," I gasp, my voice trembling as I arch against him. "Faster…please, faster."

He doesn’t hesitate, his pace increasing as he moves deeper, each thrust more deliberate than the last. The sound of our bodies moving together fills the room, a symphony of moans and gasps and soft murmurs of praise that leave me breathless.

"You’re incredible," he groans, his voice tight with restraint. "So good, Nyx. So perfect."

The pleasure builds, a crescendo of sensation that has me clutching at him, my nails digging into his shoulders as I moan and beg for more. My body moves on its own, grinding against him, chasing the release that feels just out of reach.

"Atlas, I’m… I’m so close," I whisper, my voice breaking as the tension coils tighter and tighter inside me. This approaching build of pleasure isn’t like what his tongue ignites. It’s far stronger and more consuming, and it’s not going to take long before I lose to this overcoming wave of pleasure that’s begging to drown me.

"So am I," he murmurs, his pace quickening as his movements grow more urgent. "Do you want me to cum inside you, Nyx? Do you want me to fill you up?"

The question ignites something primal inside me, and I don’t even hesitate.

"Yes," I gasp, my hands clutching at him desperately. "Yes, Atlas. I want it…everything. Your seed…your knot…I want you."

He groans, the sound raw and guttural, and I feel his movements falter slightly as he fights for control.

"Are you sure?" he asks, his voice strained. "There’s no going back if I knot you. You have to be certain."

I don’t need to think.

Every instinct in me screams that this is what I want, what I need.

"I’m sure," I whisper, my voice steady despite the desperation in my tone. "I won’t regret this, Atlas. I want you—I want this. Please, Alpha?"

His eyes darken at me begging for his knot, and his lips crash against mine in a kiss that’s all heat and hunger. His pace quickens, his thrusts deep and powerful, and I feel myself climbing higher and higher, the pleasure reaching a fever pitch.

And when I finally fall over the edge, my body shatters beneath him, my climax tearing through me with a force that leaves me trembling and breathless.

Atlas follows seconds later, his groan vibrating against my lips as his release spills inside me, the warmth of it sending another wave of pleasure rippling through my body.

Fuck…so good.

Atlas groans, the feral sound vibrating against my lips as his release fills me, the heat of it sending another wave of pleasure rippling through my already oversensitive body.

I gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders, overwhelmed by the sensation .

But it’s not over—not yet.

I feel the shift almost immediately.

His knot begins to swell, the thick base of his shaft growing inside me, and a low, primal growl escapes his throat.

His hands grip my hips as his movements resume, his thrusts deep and deliberate. Each stroke sends shockwaves through me, the added stretch of his knot amplifying the sensations until I’m trembling beneath him.

"Atlas," I gasp, my voice a mix of pleasure and desperation. My body is so sensitive, every nerve ending alight, and the fullness borders on overwhelming. But beneath the ache is a need I can’t name, something instinctual that pushes me to take everything he’s giving me.

His growls deepen, the sound rumbling from his chest as he thrusts harder, faster, his pace rough and relentless.

I bite down on my lip, trying to muffle the moans spilling from me, but it’s no use. My body reacts on its own, arching into him, gripping him tighter with every movement.

"That’s it," he mutters, his voice low and hoarse as his breath fans over my ear. "You’re taking me so well, little Goddess. You’re perfect for me…made for me."

His words send a shiver racing down my spine, and I cling to him, my fingers digging into his shoulders as my legs wrap tightly around his waist.

The pressure builds and builds, a maddening mix of pleasure and pain that leaves me gasping for air. I feel a strange pull deep within me, an instinctive urge that I don’t fully understand but can’t ignore.

I bite my lip harder, trying to resist it, but my instincts are too strong. They demand more—demand everything.

Before I can stop myself, I tilt my head and press my lips to the side of his neck. The urge to claim him in return, to mark him in some way, consumes me, and I give in.

Atlas groans, his grip tightening on my hips as I kiss his neck, my teeth grazing his skin. The sensation sends another rush of heat through me, and his movements grow even rougher, his thrusts so deep I feel like I’m losing myself to him entirely.

"Nyx," he growls, his voice raw and strained, "you’re driving me insane."

I can’t hold back any longer.

My arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer as I bury my face against his skin. My lips press against the curve of his shoulder, and I sink my teeth into him, hard.

The taste of his skin, the faint copper tang of blood where my teeth break through, sends a jolt through me that’s both terrifying and exhilarating.

Atlas curses, his body jerking against mine as his hips slam forward one last time.

He drives himself impossibly deep, his entire length filling me to the hilt, and the sharp mix of pain and pleasure has me crying out. My climax hits me like a tidal wave, crashing over me with a force that leaves me trembling and breathless.

"Fuck," he groans, his voice rough and guttural as his knot swells even further, locking us together.

Heat surges through me as his release spills deeper, and I feel the pulse of his cock as he fills me completely. The sensation is overwhelming, the tightness bordering on too much, but I hold onto him, my body trembling as I ride out the waves of pleasure.

Atlas shifts, his movements careful as he maneuvers us.

I feel the world tilt as he leans back, pulling me with him until he’s lying flat on his back and I’m straddling him. The new position eases some of the pressure, and I sigh in relief, my head resting against his chest as I try to catch my breath.

His hands stroke my back, his touch soothing and grounding.

"It’s almost locked in, baby," he murmurs, his voice softer now. "Just a little more. You’re doing so well, my precious Omega. Almost there."

I nod weakly, my limbs trembling as I adjust to the fullness, to the weight of him inside me.

His knot stretches me wide, filling me in a way I didn’t know was possible, but his calm presence keeps me from spiraling. He coos softly, his words a steady stream of praise and reassurance as he rubs slow circles along my spine.

"You’re incredible," he whispers, his lips pressing against my temple. "So strong, so fucking good in taking me. In pleasing your Alpha. My perfect little Goddess."

His voice soothes the lingering ache, and as the knot fully locks, a strange sense of relief washes over me.

My body relaxes against him, the tension bleeding away as I melt into his embrace. My limbs feel like jelly, and I let out a shaky breath, my head resting on his chest as his hands continue their gentle ministrations.

"You did so well," he says, his tone full of pride and affection. "I’m sorry for being so rough. I haven’t felt this… wild in years. My Alpha instincts got the better of me."

I shake my head weakly, a faint smile tugging at my lips, though I can’t help but relax against him. My body feels heavy and drained, though my mind feels weightless.

"I didn’t mind," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. "Though… I may have bitten you."

Atlas chuckles, the sound low and warm, and I feel the vibration against my cheek.

"Oh, I noticed," he says, amusement lacing his tone. "I think you might’ve marked me."

"Marked?" I echo, frowning slightly as I lift my head to look at him. "What does that mean?"

He smiles, brushing a strand of hair from my face.

"I’ll explain later," he promises. "For now, just rest, little Goddess."

I want to press him for more, but the exhaustion hits me like a wave. My eyelids grow heavy, and I let my head fall back onto his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling me further into contentment.

His fingers trail lazily along my back, and I feel his lips press against my temple once more.

"Thank you, Nyx," he whispers, his voice soft and full of reverence. "Thank you for trusting me. For being ours. I don’t know what we did to deserve you, but I’ll never take this for granted. Never allow the men of my pack to take advantage of this one opportunity we’ve been blessed with.” His lips press to my temple again, but I can’t move or try to tell him that I’m even more grateful. “I’m so thankful fate brought you to me…to us. You’re our little Goddess of the night."

His words are the last thing I hear before sleep claims me, pulling me under into a blissful haze.

My heart swells with quiet joy, and as the darkness of sleep wraps around me, one final thought flickers through my mind.

I’m glad fate brought me here too.