37. Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Mira
I can't breathe as I wait for Cole's answer. My heart thunders against my ribs and I'm sure they can all hear it. Will he choose us? Choose me? Or will his guilt win again? The moment stretches, heavy with possibility and fear and hope. Even the pain coursing through my body pauses, waiting.
His face crumples. “Really? You…want me in your nest?”
I nod. “Yes, Cole. I don’t just want you in my nest. I need you here. With me,” I whisper.
His eyes gleam as he takes one hesitant step toward the nest, then another. He makes a sound like he can’t get words out. As though he can't quite believe he's allowed this, that we want him, that he deserves to be here. His scent, more dry leather than pine, wavers as fear and desperate longing war. I inhale, my head sorting through every complex scent in my nest. Arousal. Desire. Craving. Guilt. Longing.
The need for forgiveness.
The ability to finally ask for it.
Forgiveness freely offered.
Accepted.
Their scents twine together, creating a safe haven for both of us to fall apart in. This is safe here. This place we make together is our harbor. We can be our fractured selves. The edges don’t tear us apart. They bring us together.
Cole’s movements are painfully careful, like he expects to be rejected at any moment. Like he's waiting for us to realize our mistake, to send him away. A groan catches in his throat as he settles beside me, as years of self-imposed isolation crumble in this one moment of surrender.
“Sweetness,” he whispers, his voice cracking. His hand hovers near mine, not quite touching. “I don't deserve—”
“You do,” I reach for his hand. His fingers are cold, trembling against mine. “We all do.” We all carry wounds that need healing and that makes us deserving of love, even if we can't believe it ourselves.
Watching this strong alpha finally let himself break and be held is heartbreaking and beautiful. Zane reaches over to squeeze Cole's shoulder while Adrian's hand finds my hair, and suddenly we're all connected. All holding each other as Cole's walls crumble.
Maybe this is what real strength is, not holding yourself together, but letting others help put you back together. Not running from your broken pieces, but sharing them with people who'll help you carry them. Maybe that's what pack really means.
This pack, in any case .
Cole looks down at me, his stormy eyes burning. There's a difference in his expression now. A weight has lifted. His dark hair falls across his forehead, and combined with his vulnerable expression, he looks younger. More like the boy he must have been before guilt carved permanent lines around his eyes.
“Thank you,” he whispers.
I shake my head. “You don't—”
“I do. Please, listen.” His hand tightens on mine, trembling slightly. “There's only one thing that's ever eased this guilt.”
That surprises me. “What is that?”
“You.” His gaze is liquid, full of wonder and filled with something deeper, something that makes heat flow through my veins in a slow burn instead of scraping me with barbed wire. “You don't try to fix it or excuse it. You just... understand.”
Pieces of my shattered puzzle click into new places. My jagged edges rearrange, fitting perfectly with his, with all their pieces. Our broken parts create a perfect, healed whole.
“Kiss me?” My thirst is different from before. Not desperate, or driven by heat or fear or guilt. This is chosen. Wanted. I'm not just accepting his kiss; I'm asking for it, here in my nest, surrounded by our pack. Making a choice that feels right down to my bones.
Cole’s eyes darken and his pupils dilate. His scent deepens with desire as he leans down. “You never need to ask me again.”
His kiss is gentle, reverent, like he's finally allowing himself to have this. To want this. To deserve this. The void inside me fades, filling with warmth and brightness. With something like belonging, like hope, like future.
I want nothing more than to wrap myself around these alphas, to lose myself in their strength, their acceptance.
My mates.
The word surfaces in my mind, and for the first time, it’s not threatening or dangerous or impossible, but natural.
Inevitable .
I allow my instincts and heart to override the constant warnings from my brain, letting myself embrace my omega nature, knowing—finally—that it's safe to do so. These alphas won't exploit it or attempt to control or confine me. As Cole's lips yield to mine, the connection between us ignites and transforms into a perfect, pure bond.
COLE
Her lips are soft beneath mine. I can't believe this is real, that this amazing omega—this strong, beautiful creature who carries her own darkness—has accepted me; has looked at my broken pieces and said, “yes, these too.”
She started healing me the moment I saw her in our offices, though I was too blinded with guilt to recognize it. She called to the wounded parts of me, recognized a kindred spirit. Even as I fought it, ran from it, she kept drawing me back. Kept showing me that broken doesn't mean worthless.
I'm drowning in her kiss, and I don't want to come up for air. Her sugared lilac and vetiver fill my whole body. I’ll never get enough of her flavor. I’ll rub her slick all over me and wear it as my cologne. I’ll feast off her forever and never have enough.
The desire I have for her is acute. Nothing like the desperate, guilt-ridden desire I've known before. This is pure, perfect, healing.
Her small hands curl into my hair, pulling me closer, and I go willingly. My tongue traces her bottom lip, asking permission she grants with a soft sigh. The first real taste of her makes my alpha howl with satisfaction. She tastes like surrender and strength, like forgiveness and future.
Adrian and Zane's scents wrap around us, completing rather than intruding. Their presence makes this more. Makes it right. Makes it pack. My hand cups her face, thumb stroking her cheek as I deepen the kiss, pouring everything into it. All the words I can't say, all the gratitude, all the wonder.
I want her in a way I've never wanted anyone, deep, consuming, and absolute. The truth of it shakes me: I didn't even want Lily like this. That was youth, hormones, inexperience. This... how I want Mira…this is eternal .
This is written in my DNA.
I want all of her. Every moment, every breath, every smile. Want to wake up to her scent, fall asleep to her heartbeat. Want to watch her read, take photos, discover joy. Want to protect her, cherish her, worship her. Want to heal her wounds as she heals mine. If that's obsession, I'll gladly embrace it. Even obsession seems too weak a word for this bone-deep need.
My hands roam her body, unable to get enough. Can't touch her enough, can't get close enough. She's exquisite perfection. Small and strong and perfect against me. Her skin burns under my palms, silk-soft and fever-hot.
The kiss deepens, turns molten. My tongue explores her mouth as my hands map her curves through too many clothes. Everything's a barrier, fabric, space, time itself. I want skin on skin, want to taste every inch of her, want to learn every sound she can make.
She arches into my touch, making these small desperate sounds that drive me crazy. Her fingers clutch at my shoulders, pulling me closer, closer, but never close enough.
“Sweetness,” I growl against her mouth. “You're everything. Everything I never knew I needed.”
Her hands tangle in my hair, pulling almost to the point of pain, and I growl with approval. Want her to mark me, claim me, leave evidence of her desire on my skin. Want everyone to understand I belong to her as much as she belongs to me.
My teeth throb, venom flooding my mouth with the urge to bond. I want to sink my teeth into her throat, to mark her as mine—as ours—is overwhelming. But I'll wait. I will always wait for her permission. Will never take what isn't freely given, not after everything she's been through.
I’ll beg for her consent if I have to.
This will be her choice. Always.
I pull back just enough to look at her, and fuck, she's beautiful . Her lips are swollen from my kisses, her amber eyes dark with desire. A flush spreads across her cheeks, down her throat to where her pulse beats rapidly. Her sugared lilac scent is rich with arousal and trust and something deeper .
“What are you waiting for?” she whispers. “Kiss me, Cole. Touch me.”
The last of my restraint shatters. There's nothing holding me back anymore. Not guilt, not fear, not the ghosts of the past. There's only this moment, this omega, this perfect completion.
“Mine,” I growl, and for the first time, I fully mean it.
My cock is granite-hard, knot already swelling against my zipper. The need to claim, to fill, to bond, is almost unbearable. I pull her against me like it's been years since I last tasted her, not moments. Like every second not kissing her is time wasted.
I kiss her like a dying man finding salvation, like she's air and I'm drowning. Want to taste every inch of her, map her body with my tongue, learn what makes her gasp and moan and beg. My hands roam possessively, desperately, needing to touch everywhere at once.
She responds with little whimpers that go straight to my groin, and fuck, her slick scent fills the air, sweet and heady and perfect. My cock jerks, pre-cum soaking through my shorts when her scent shifts to pure arousal and desire.
For me.
Because of me.
There's no hiding between scent-matched mates. This is her truest reaction, her purest response. The way her sugared lilac and vetiver bloom with want, with need, with acceptance... it's fucking intoxicating. This isn't just physical attraction or biological compatibility. This is soul-deep recognition.
She wants me. Trusts me. Chooses me.
And that's the hottest thing I've ever experienced.
“Sweetness,” I growl against her throat. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
But maybe she does, because her answering moan tells me she feels it, too.
She whimpers, tilting her hips to grind against my cock, and the friction nearly undoes me. The heat of her core, even through our clothes, makes my knot throb painfully.
“Want you, Cole.” Her sugared lilac is thick with desire, with trust, with surrender .
“Soon. But first I need to taste you.” Adrian and Zane have already had this pleasure, and the thought makes me both jealous and desperately hungry. I need to make her fall apart on my tongue. Need to learn every sound she can make, every way she can break.
Ignoring the way my balls draw tight, I lean over her. Her jeans are soaked between her thighs, the evidence of her desire for me clear and intoxicating. The scent of her slick makes my mouth water, my cock leaking pre-cum. Male pride surges through me. I did this. Made her this wet, this needy. Made her want like this. Not heat, not biology, just pure desire for me.
“Tell me you want it too, Sweetness.” My fingers play with the button of her jeans, teasing both of us. Her hips buck slightly at the touch as if seeking more. “Need to hear you say the words.”
I want my name on those perfect lips. Want her to beg for my tongue, my touch. Want her to choose this, choose me, with words as well as scent. Want to hear her voice break with arousal, to watch her face as she asks.
“Ahh, fuck. Yes, Cole. Put your mouth on me. Please, Alpha.” My name is a prayer on her lips, and fuck, it's better than any declaration of possession. Her voice is thick, husky, making my cock throb in time with my racing heart.
She doesn’t have to beg twice.
“Mine.” I slide my thumb over the mess at her core. She jerks at my touch, a soft sigh escaping her lips that goes straight to my groin. I can't wait anymore. I need to see all of her. I pull her jeans and underwear off in one motion, tossing them aside and then I just... stare.
She's perfect, all soft curves and delicate skin, her sex pink and glistening. For me. Because of me. Her thighs are slick with arousal. My mouth waters with the urge to taste her, to learn every fold and curve with my tongue.
“Cole's going to take care of you, Little One,” Adrian murmurs, his smoked cedar practically burning with arousal. “You're being so good for us.”
She whimpers again, spreading her thighs wider in invitation, and my control nearly snaps. I growl at that simple gesture. Her willing submission.
“So fucking beautiful.” I lower my mouth to where she needs me most .
Time to worship properly.
I dip my head between her thighs and finally, finally taste her. That first swipe of my tongue draws a gasp from her throat that I want to record so I can hear it every second of every day. She tastes divine, sweet omega essence mixed with female musk, a taste I'll crave for the rest of my life. Her thighs quiver as I explore her folds with long, slow licks, learning every curve and dip, memorizing what makes her gasp, what makes her moan and whine and make every adorable omega sound she can possibly make. When I circle her clit with the tip of my tongue, her hands fly to my hair, holding me in place. The slight pain of her grip only fuels my ardor, makes my knot pulse.
I feast on her, drinking in every drop of her arousal, every sound she makes. Her scent grows headier, sweeter, driving me wild. When I slip my tongue inside her, tasting deeper, she arches off the nest with a desperate cry.
“That's it, Sweetness,” I growl against her core, the vibrations making her shiver. “Let me hear you. Let me taste how much you want this.”
She's close to her release. I smell it in her scent, feel it in the way she quivers around my tongue. Her fingers tighten in my hair as she chases her pleasure. Her slick coats my chin, my tongue, marking me with her scent. Each lap of my tongue elicits fresh sounds from her throat… whimpers, moans, broken versions of my name. I suck her clit gently, sliding two fingers into her wet heat, and she lets out a soft, keening cry of pleasure. The combination makes her back bow, her thighs clamping around my head as she shatters with my name on her lips.
Perfect. So fucking perfect.
And I'm nowhere near done with her yet.
I crawl up her body, mesmerized by the sight of her. Her auburn hair fans around her like flames, creating a halo of silken fire against the blankets. Her skin is flushed pink with pleasure, chest heaving with quick breaths. Her pupils are blown wide, just a thin ring of amber visible around the black. Velvety forest green and the darkest shadows. She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, wild and wanting and mine .
All fucking mine .
She whimpers, raising her arms to me, and the gesture nearly stops my heart. She wants me. Actually wants me . Not from heat or desperation or obligation, but from pure desire. Her small hands pull at my shoulders, drawing me down to her, and I'm overwhelmed by the trust in her eyes, the need in her scent. Her scent tells me everything her body language confirms… she chooses this. Chooses me.
I work my shorts off with trembling hands, too desperate to be smooth about it. We're both still half-dressed, but I can't wait to undress her fully. Can't wait another moment for her heat to be around me. I yearn to claim her, show her how precious she is, how perfect.
“Sweetness,” I manage, my voice rough. My hands shake as I position myself between her thighs. “Can I—”
She actually growls at me, the sound adorably fierce. “Cole,” she demands, wrapping her legs around my waist, pulling me closer. “Make love to me.”
The words, the trust behind them, the choosing in them, breaks something in my chest. This isn't just sex or claiming or biology.
This is everything.
This is healing.
This is home.
And finally, finally, I let myself have what I've been denying us both. Let myself believe I deserve this connection, this completion, this perfect moment of trust and hunger and want.
I find her entrance slick and ready, and ease inside with excruciating slowness. The sensation is... fuck . Nothing has ever felt like this. She's tight and hot and perfect, her inner walls gripping me tight. Every inch is both coming home and discovering paradise.
Her mouth falls open in a silent gasp as I fill her, her fingers digging into my shoulders. Her legs tighten around my waist, drawing me deeper, and the trust in that gesture makes my alpha howl with satisfaction.
“Cole.” My name is a prayer on her lips. “You feel so good. So perfect.”
The words nearly undo me. My cock pulses inside her as her walls flutter around me, adjusting to my size.
“Sweetness,” I growl, fighting for control. “You have no idea. So tight. So perfect for me.”
When I'm fully seated, I pause, overwhelmed by sensation, by her scent, by the look of pure pleasure on her face. This isn't just physical. This is completion on every level.
I begin to move, drawing out slowly before pushing back in, establishing a rhythm that makes her gasp with each thrust. She clings to me, her hands clutching my shoulders, her legs locked around my waist.
Her inner walls grip me perfectly, like she was made for me. Each thrust draws new sounds from her throat, little whimpers and moans that go straight to my groin. My knot swells further, catching slightly at her entrance with every push.
“That's it, Omega,” I growl against her throat. “Take all of me.”
Her head falls back, exposing her throat in submission, and the sight makes my teeth throb with the need to mark. Her pulse flutters under my lips as I kiss that spot, imagining how it would be to sink my teeth in, to complete our bond.
“Cole,” she pants, my name breaking on a moan as I hit deeper. “Please... more...”
I increase my pace, driven by her pleasure, by her need, by the way her slick eases my passage. Her scent blooms sweeter with each thrust, telling me exactly how good I'm making her feel. No lies between mates, just pure, perfect pleasure.
My hands grip her hips, holding her steady as I drive into her. I want to memorize everything… the arch of her back, the flush on her skin, the way she tightens around me when I hit just right.
“Mine,” I growl, unable to help myself. “So fucking perfect.”
Her inner walls clamp down, vice-tight around my cock as she climaxes. The sensation is exquisite torture, her muscles rippling, milking me, drawing me deeper. Her cry of pleasure pushes me over the edge. With a desperate roar, I thrust hard one final time, my knot swelling fully as it locks inside her perfect heat .
My orgasm slams through me, more intense than anything I've ever experienced. Pleasure courses through every nerve as I empty inside her, marking her from the inside out as my vision whites out. My knot pulses with each wave, tying us together.
The sensation is transcendent, physical pleasure mixed with emotional completion. This isn't just release; it's redemption. Connection. Perfect unity of body and soul. Her scent mingles with mine, creating something new, something whole.
She trembles around me, aftershocks making her inner walls flutter against my sensitive knot. Each tiny movement draws another pulse of pleasure, another surge of release. I've never felt anything so perfect, so right, so complete.
I pulse endlessly into her, each wave of release more intense than the last, emptying everything I have into her willing body. My soul pours into her along with my seed, and I give her every part of me I've kept locked away.
When there's nothing left in my balls, when I'm completely spent and shaking, I gather her against my chest and roll both of us. She settles on top of me, my knot still pulsing inside her, binding us together. Her weight on top of me is perfect, grounding, real.
I can't stop trembling. Can barely draw breath. Her heart thunders against my chest, matching my own frantic rhythm, and I almost hope they crash together, merge into one beat. One rhythm. One life.
“Sweetness,” I manage, voice wrecked with emotion. My hands stroke down her back, needing to touch, to confirm this is real. That she's really here, that she really chose me and let me have this perfection.
The gratitude, the wonder, the pure fucking joy of this moment, threatens to overwhelm me. For the first time since Lily, I know I’m worthy of pleasure. Of connection. Of love.
For the first time ever, I’m complete.