13. Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Thirteen
Zane
A drian cradles Mira against his chest, his eyes meeting mine over her head. He shares my pain at her circumstances, my joy at finally having her here as I settle into the nest. The empty closet is surreal, our massive frames dwarfing her small one. The bond I share with Cole and Adrian pulses with potential, with what could be if she wasn't so traumatized.
If Cole was here.
The empty space inside me aches like a phantom limb. He’ll be able to sense us through our pack bond and I’m torn between understanding and sympathy for his pain, and something more violent because of his absence.
“Let us take care of you,” Adrian murmurs against her temple, his hands gentle as they stroke her sides. His eyes find mine. “She needs our skin on hers.”
“I need to remove your clothing, Mira. It will be more comfortable for you,” I rasp, not recognizing the strain in my voice. I slowly reach for the hem of her borrowed shirt… my shirt. “May I?” I wait for her nod.
“Your words. I need to hear your words,” I say.
She licks dry lips, unfocused eyes settling on me. The wait is a lifetime before I hear her whisper. “O…okay.”
Slowly, so I don’t scare her, I take the hem of her T-shirt and draw it up her body. Every inch of exposed skin makes me want to howl, but I keep my movements careful, controlled. She trembles between us, fear and arousal warring in her scent.
“You're safe. Always safe,” I promise, pressing gentle kisses to her shoulder as Adrian helps work the shirt over her head. “We won't hurt you.”
Her small breasts are exposed to the air, nipples tight with arousal. She tries to cover herself, but Adrian catches her hands, bringing them to his lips. “You're beautiful,” he tells her. “Perfect.”
I don’t disagree, because she is both.
I want to devour her, to claim her completely, but I keep my touches gentle, reverent and try to ignore the evidence of her past pain. She's been hurt too many times. We have to show her that not all touches bring pain.
“Our omega. Our mate. We’ll make you feel so good, Baby Girl.” The name slips out, so right.
The words make her shiver, but she doesn't pull away.
Her skin is hot under my lips as I trail kisses across her jaw line and down her neck. She trembles with each touch.
“You're doing so well,” I whisper against her shoulder blade, tasting salt and need on her skin.
She's so small between us, so vulnerable. I want to shelter and protect her, showering her with everything she's been denied, but right now she needs relief from the heat burning through her veins .
“Do you want me to touch your perfect breasts?” I ask.
She pants as she stares at me, her full lips parting.
“Words, Baby Girl. I need to hear your words,” I remind her.
“Yes. Please,” she breathes.
Adrian's hand moves with infinite gentleness as he cups her breast, his thumb brushing over one sensitive peak while I cup her other breast in my palm.
“Can I taste you, Baby Girl? Can I put my tongue and my mouth on your body?” I ask.
Her pupils dilate instantly and sugared lilac bursts around us.
“Words, Omega,” Adrian whispers.
Her gaze slides from Adrian and back to me. She parts her perfect pink lips and the tip of her tongue darts out to wet them. “Yes.”
I don’t hesitate. I lean down, taking her perfect little nipple between my lips, sucking gently. I’m rewarded when her back arches slightly off the floor. It's a tiny movement, but it’s a victory.
“That's it, Little One. Let Zane help you,” Adrian murmurs as she makes another soft sound. “Does he do that for you? Is he helping you to relax?”
Her fingers clench in the blankets and a shudder works through her body. “Yes.”
The word sends a jolt of satisfaction from my heart to my cock. The taste of her skin is addictive. Each careful swipe of my tongue across her sensitive flesh draws tiny sounds from her throat that Adrian swallows in gentle kisses. Her scent grows headier with each touch, but there's still an undercurrent of tension that shouldn't be there, a rigidity that speaks of fear rather than surrender.
I look up to see her eyes dark with arousal, pupils blown wide until only a thin ring of green remains, but her body is rigid despite our careful attention, her muscles tight with a control that must be exhausting to maintain. She's accepting our touch, but not surrendering to it.
Not trusting it completely.
Not trusting us completely.
“She needs more,” Adrian murmurs against her lips, his voice rough with restraint. His eyes meet mine meaningfully over her shoulder. “Show her how good it can be, Zane. Show her what pleasure should be like.”
My cock throbs painfully at the thought of tasting her properly, of bringing her pleasure with my mouth. The scent of her arousal makes my alpha nature howl, but I force myself to remain gentle, controlled. Sweet venom floods my mouth, an instinctive response I ruthlessly suppress, swallowing it back despite my alpha's protests. The bond can wait. Will wait. I won't claim her until she begs for it, until she's as desperate for the connection as I am.
“I have to remove these,” I murmur, fingers playing with the waistband of her borrowed shorts. “Is that okay?” The thought of her naked while we remain clothed should make her vulnerable, but somehow it seems to give her the security of our control while we focus solely on her pleasure.
Another cramp wracks her frame, making her curl forward with a gasp. My heart twists, seeing her pain, but I keep my movements slow despite my growing desperation.
“Will you let me touch your clit, Baby Girl? Will you let me stroke it and bring you pleasure to take the pain away?” I stroke her through the fabric, barely grazing my finger along the seam of the shorts she wears.
She utters a strangled sound.
“Words, Baby Girl. Tell me.” Adrian prompts her again.
I want the day to come where we won’t need to remind her to tell us to do something she’s going to enjoy. I want the day where she’ll demand it. Her inability to ask for simple things means she doesn’t expect to have a choice. That no matter what she says, she won’t be heard. That she expects others to have more rights over her body than she does, and that is completely unacceptable. I dream of the moment when she’ll scream at me to put my hands on her perfect body. My hands, my lips, my teeth.
She thinks she doesn’t own her own body when she owns everything of mine. I hand it all to her served up on a silver platter.
“Yes. O…okay. ”
Her words are barely there, but it’s enough. When my thumb finds that sensitive bundle of nerves, her body jerks. “That's it, Baby Girl. Feel how good this is for you.”
My fingers trace the damp fabric, marveling at how much slick her body has produced. The shorts are saturated, clinging to her intimately. I'll never wash them after this. They'll always carry the scent of her arousal, the proof of her need, forever.
She whimpers as I stroke her gently, her hips twitching slightly into my touch. It's a subconscious movement, her body seeking more even as her mind fights it. I keep my caress light, teasing, letting her grow accustomed to the sensation.
When I find her clit through the barrier of fabric, a choked gasp escapes her throat. Adrian swallows the sound with a tender kiss. I circle that sensitive bud with my thumb, keeping the pressure gentle but consistent.
“That's it,” I encourage softly. “Let go, Omega.”
Her scent shifts, the bitter notes of fear and pain fading beneath the growing sweetness of pleasure. I keep up the careful attention, letting her body's responses guide me. She's so responsive, so sensitive. Every tiny circle of my thumb across her clit draws another gasp, another twitch of her hips.
“You're doing so well,” Adrian praises against her lips. “Our good girl.”
The words break something free in her. With a soft cry, her body goes rigid, then shudders apart. The scent of her orgasm blooms around us, and I have to grit my teeth against the urge to rip the shorts away, to taste her properly.
But this is about her, not us.
Her pleasure.
Her comfort.
Her trust.
I work her through the waves of her climax, keeping my touch gentle as she shakes and gasps. “Beautiful,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to her hip as she comes down. “Absolutely beautiful.”
One small orgasm is a start, but her body craves so much more. This is only the start. She’s still so tense despite her muscles quivering. She'll want a steady stream of pleasure, a constant push toward ecstasy to ease the ache of her heat. I can’t wait to experience every second of it.
“Can I taste you, omega?” I ask, my breath ghosting over her damp core. The scent of her arousal is thick here, intoxicating. “Please, let me taste you properly.”
I’m asking nicely but I’m also begging at the same time.
She hesitates. Her body trembles with the conflict, but another wave of heat makes her shudder, a whimper escaping her throat, and finally, finally, she nods. “Okay. Please Alpha. I need…”
“Shh, Baby Girl. I’ll give you everything.” My chest might burst with joy, with gratitude for this trust because she asked me.
I press reverent kisses to her hips, to the soft skin of her belly, as I carefully work the shorts down her legs, baring her to our gaze but as I see her for the first time, the true extent of her suffering becomes heartbreakingly clear. Her ribs protrude sharply beneath pale skin, each one countable. Her hip bones jut out like knife blades, the hollow of her belly far too deep. She's small. Tiny, but this isn't natural slenderness; it's the result of long-term deprivation, of her body consuming itself to survive.
And the scars... I almost break as I trace my lips across her skin, over the raised lines, the rough patches, the places where she should be soft but isn't. Some are old, faded to silver, a map of past pain, but others are fresher, angrier, telling a story of more recent suffering. A particularly vicious mark curves around her hip, disappearing behind her back, and my heart clenches at the thought of what may have caused it.
I meet Adrian's gaze over the expanse of her too-thin body, seeing my horror and rage reflected in his eyes. Someone did this to her. Someone starved her, hurt her, left these marks on her skin and her soul. The urge to hunt them down, to make them pay, is overwhelming.
She whimpers, drawing our attention back to the present. Now isn't the time for vengeance. Now is the time to show her that touch doesn't have to bring pain, that alphas don't have to be a source of fear .
I swallow my fury, my grief, and return to my tender worship of her body. Each kiss is an apology, each gentle caress a promise.
Never again! She'll never suffer like this again.
Not while she's ours. And she’ll be ours forever, even if she doesn’t understand it yet. Even if she never chooses us.
I take my time kissing up her too thin thighs, savoring the way she trembles at each touch. Her skin is silk beneath my lips, heated and damp with sweat. The first swipe of my tongue through her folds makes us both moan. Her taste explodes across my senses, musky and sweet. It's ambrosia, the nectar of the gods. I grip her hips to keep from simply devouring her, from losing myself in her flavor.
She cries out above me as I lave her gently, exploring her folds. Her slick coats my tongue, my lips, my chin. I've never tasted anything so perfect, so right. It's like coming home to something I never knew I missed.
My alpha side is satisfied I’ve brought her this pleasure and eased her pain. Each careful lap of my tongue draws whimpers from her throat, new shivers across her skin. Her hands find my hair, tentative at first, then gripping tighter as I focus on her clit. I alternate between broad strokes and delicate flicks, learning what makes her moan, what makes her hips jerk against my mouth.
The rest of the world fades away until there's nothing but her taste, her scent, the tiny sounds of her pleasure. Adrian's murmured praise and encouragement blend with her whimpers and moans, creating a symphony of bliss.
Adrian’s large hands cup and knead the soft flesh of her breasts above me, his thumbs brushing over her nipples in a way that makes her gasp. The combination of sensations—my mouth on her core, his hands on her breasts—has her writhing between us, lost in a haze of pleasure.
I ease a finger inside her, marveling at her tightness, her heat. She's so wet, so ready, her body grasping at my digit as if trying to draw me deeper. I pump slowly, gently, letting her adjust to the intrusion while I continue to lap at her clit.
My own need is a distant thing, unimportant compared to her pleasure. My knot throbs, my balls drawing up tight against my body, but I ignore the discomfort. She tenses beneath me, her inner walls fluttering around my finger. She's close, so close. Her scent shifts, the sweetness of impending climax mixing with the spice of her heat. I draw her clit into my mouth and suck, applying the gentlest pressure with my teeth. At the same moment, Adrian closes his lips around one tight nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak.
She shatters with a cry, her back arching off the blankets as ecstasy crashes through her. Her fingers tighten in my hair, but I don't stop lapping my tongue where she needs it to prolong her pleasure. I work her through the waves of her orgasm, easing the pressure as she starts to come down. She's gasping, shaking, overwhelmed in the best way. Adrian gentles his touch on her breasts, soothing rather than arousing.
“That's it, Little One,” he murmurs against her skin. “You’re a good girl, letting us help you.”
As she comes back from her high, tension creeps back into her limbs. Her body relaxes into our embrace, but she still hesitates. She's still holding back, keeping a part of herself locked away.
I want to tear down those walls, to prove with every touch and kiss and murmured praise that she's safe now, cherished. The same concern is reflected in Adrian’s eyes. Our omega is in her nest with her alphas, but she should be liquid in our arms.
Suddenly she cries out as her abdomen ripples with another breath-stealing cramp even though she’s just reached her peak. The sound is laced with pain and fear, a harsh reminder that her heat is far from over despite the temporary respite of orgasm. Dr. Maverick wasn’t wrong.
This is what years of taking suppressants looks like. The very designation I want to protect is now a victim. Adrian and I soothe her again, trying our best to take away the pain and ingrained mistrust. I’ve never felt more out of my depth, even when running a billion-dollar business, than trying to comfort our traumatized omega.
At Pinnacle, I'm in control. I know the moves, the strategies, the next steps, but here, in this makeshift nest with a hurting, mistrustful omega… I'm lost.