25. Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Five
Emma
“ H ow did you all meet?” I ask.
Soap bubbles foam through his long, elegant fingers I know can pack a powerful punch as he starts to clean my other hand.
Soren's smile softens. “I met Asher ten years ago at the academy. The moment we met, something just... clicked. It's hard to explain, but sometimes you just know when another alpha is meant to be pack. There's this recognition, a sense of completing each other's strengths.”
His hands continue swishing the cloth over my other shoulder, but his expression grows distant with memory.
“With Asher, it was instant. Like finding a piece of myself I didn't know was missing. We balance each other.” He shakes his head slightly, searching for words.
“It's like finding your other half. Not romantic love, but something just as deep. A brotherhood that goes beyond blood.”
The washcloth skims across my shoulders. I lean into it, seeking more of this gentle contact. My body responds to him with a kind of melting pleasure.
“Everyone else at the academy was focused on proving their dominance, climbing ranks, making names for themselves. But Asher had this unwavering moral compass. After graduation, it was natural for us to partner up on omega abuse cases. We wanted to change things, make a real difference.”
The way he speaks about Asher, the depth of feeling in his voice, shows me a kind of love I've never witnessed between alphas. Not the bitter competition of Pack Carmichael, but something pure and supportive and strong.
“Pack bonds aren't about power. They're about trust. About having someone who knows all your weaknesses and chooses to protect them instead of exploit them. That's what Asher and I found in each other. What we later found in Phoenix,” he says.
His words paint a picture of connection I never knew could exist between alphas.
Soren's expression grows serious, his hands stilling on my arm. “You have to believe me when I tell you that Asher hates himself for biting you. I've never seen him like this, never seen him so torn up with guilt. In a decade, I've never known him to lose control of his alpha instincts like that.”
I stay quiet, because how can I disagree? I feel Asher's self-loathing through our bond every day, a constant undercurrent of shame and regret that he no longer tries to hide from me.
“It's completely out of character for him,” Soren continues, his voice soft but intent.
“Asher's built his entire career, his entire life, around protecting omegas' rights. To find you in that basement, chained, starved. Our scent-match...” His jaw tightens.
“His alpha just... snapped. Keeping you safe overwhelmed everything else.”
He lets my hand go and moves to my feet, submerging his hands into the suds to work on my feet.
My eyelids flutter when he starts to massage those large thumbs into the sole of my foot.
“He's beating himself up about it every day.
Not because he regrets finding you—you're our mate, Emma, our perfect match—but because he took your choice away.
The very thing he's fought against for years.”
I feel the truth of this in my bones, in the bond that pulses with Asher's constant remorse. Unlike the Carmichaels, who feel nothing but satisfaction, Asher's emotions are raw with regret. Even though he took my choice away, his regret is genuine.
“He'll spend the rest of his life trying to make it right,” Soren says quietly. “We all will.”
The promise in his voice eases the tight place inside me that’s always bound tight, not forgiveness, not yet, but maybe understanding.
“And what about Phoenix? How did he join your pack?” I ask, not wanting to dwell on the complicated mess where Asher is concerned.
Soren understands and doesn't miss a beat. His fingers work magic on tired muscles I didn't even know were aching, finding knots and tension I'd forgotten existed. His hands drift up my calf, working the cloth over my knee and along my inner thigh and every nerve ending jumpstarts to life.
He comes dangerously close to where I'm throbbing, pressing closer and closer, but he returns his attention down my other leg before he can touch me where I’m burning, starting at my foot and I’m…disappointed he didn’t follow through.
Normally every muscle would be drawing up tight and I’d try to keep my terror clamped down tight at this type of alpha touch, but Soren smirks as I groan when he begins to knead the tension from my other foot.
He knows exactly what he’s doing .
I narrow my eyes at him and his smirk deepens.
I part my lips to speak but he beats me to it.
“Phoenix came crashing into our lives two years later.
Quite literally. He tackled a trafficking suspect right into Asher's desk.
Knocked over Asher's precious coffee and everything.
But he'd chased the suspect fifteen blocks to stop him from reaching an omega safe house.”
That’s so Phoenix. A chuckle jumps from me, driven from that quivering place inside me. Soren’s brows lift. “I like that sound coming from you.”
I ignore the heat drifting over my cheeks.
“You all worked omega cases?” I ask.
“It's what brought us together. We all saw the same problems, the same injustices.
Asher's our moral compass, always fighting for what's right. Phoenix brings light to the darkest cases, helps us remember to find joy even in horrible situations. And I...” He shrugs slightly, the movement making his scent shift and swirl around me.
“I provide the planning to keep them both in line.”
His eyes meet mine, hazel depths holding something that makes my breath catch. “But we always knew something was missing. Our omega was missing. The one perfect being who would complete us.”
The implication hangs in the steamy air between us.
Me. They were missing me.
He’s also working his way along the inner thigh of my other leg, sending frissons through my body, and then I can’t worry about anything at all other than the way his fingers are…
So.
Close.
My thighs part, wanting— needing— him to go higher. To touch me where the burn is starting to grow uncomfortable.
“Lie back, Omega,” he murmurs, his voice gentle but threaded with command.
It’s not a bark. I don’t have to obey, but I want to.
Water laps at my shoulders as I recline against the bath.
Soren adds more soap to the cloth and traces it over my collarbones with devastating slowness, each stroke deliberate and thorough.
When he reaches the swell of my breasts, my nipples tighten into hard peaks, breasts growing heavy with need. Each careful pass of the cloth sends sparks of pleasure racing through my nerve endings, making me arch slightly into his touch.
When the cloth finally brushes over one aching nipple, I can't hold back the moan that escapes. The rough texture contrasts with the gentleness of his touch, sending sparks of pleasure straight to my core. He repeats the motion on the other side, and my head falls back against the tub. I’m lost in sensation .
“Good omega. Letting your alpha care for you. Letting him touch you where you want me to.” Soren’s deep bass rumbles in my ear and every inch of me agrees with what he said because I do want him to care for me. I do want him to touch me.
His fingers follow the path of the washcloth, tracing the same slow circles. Anticipation coils tighter in my belly with each pass, skin tingling, nerves singing. When he finally rolls each sensitive peak between thumb and forefinger, tugging gently, I nearly come undone.
“I’m going to clean the rest of you. Don’t worry,” he says quickly when my eyelids flicker open again. “I’ll ease your pain.”
His hands move to my stomach, cleaning in circles that make my muscles jump and flutter in their wake. My breathing turns ragged, shallow. Heat pools between my legs, an ache building that makes me restless.
A whimper escapes my throat, needy and desperate. My hips shift restlessly under the water and I need… I need…
Soren’s fingers skim the lips of my pussy and I nearly jump out of the water, seeking his touch. It’s never been like this before. This all-consuming need for touch. Not just any touch.
My alpha’s touch.
“Can I touch you where you need me to, Omega? Can I touch you where you burn?” he asks.
“Yessss.” I grip his wrist so he can’t go anywhere.
The noise I make is somewhere between a pleading moan and a whimper.
His face is smoothed into serious lines, his focus on me burning before his fingers flutter along the seam of my pussy.
When his fingers finally brush over my aching center, we both groan at the contact.
Soren's fingers explore me intimately, learning every sensitive fold, every responsive spot. He teases my entrance, circling, dipping just slightly inside before withdrawing. The sensation makes me gasp, hips lifting instinctively to chase his touch .
“Please. Alpha…Soren, please,” I whimper, my voice breathy and foreign to my own ears.
“Anything for you.” He answers with a gentle thrust, one finger sliding smoothly into my heat. My inner muscles clench around the welcome intrusion, drawing him deeper. Slowly, he starts to move, establishing a rhythm that has me rocking my hips to meet each pump of his fingers.
His thumb finds my clit, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with just the right pressure. Pleasure sparks through me, building from a slow burn to a raging inferno. I arch into his touch, water sloshing over the rim of the tub.
“That's it,” Soren murmurs, his voice rough with restrained desire. “Take what you need, Emma. Let me give you this.”
He increases the speed of his thrusts, crooking his fingers to stroke a spot inside me that makes stars burst behind my eyelids. At the same time, he presses down more firmly on my clit, rubbing tight circles that send electricity zinging up my spine.
The dual sensations are overwhelming, all-consuming. Pressure builds, coiling tighter and tighter deep inside. My thighs shake, my breath coming in short, sharp gasps.
“Soren,” I manage, my voice breaking on a moan. “I'm... I'm going to...”
“Let go,” he urges. “I've got you, Emma.”
His fingers thrust particularly deep as his thumb grinds against my clit, and the world shatters. My toes curl as ecstasy crashes over me in wave after wave of pulsing release. I'm distantly aware of crying out, of clenching around his fingers, of pleasure so intense it borders on pain.
Through it all, Soren works me through the peak, drawing out my climax until I collapse back into the water, utterly spent.
Aftershocks ripple through me as he gently withdraws.
As I float in the hazy aftermath, Soren presses a tender kiss to my forehead.
“Beautiful,” he whispers. “You're so beautiful, Emma.”
And with the echoes of my release still thrumming through my veins, with the taste of his care on my skin, I almost believe him .
As the aftershocks of my climax fade, Soren gently guides me to sit up. “Let me wash your hair, Butterfly,” he murmurs.
“Hmmm.” I’m boneless and pliant from the force of my release.
I wrap my arms around my bent knees and tip my head back.
He starts to wet my hair with warm water from the bath’s shower head.
His fingers work shampoo through my hair with the same care he's shown my body, massaging my scalp, working out tangles with patient gentleness.
It should be relaxing. And it is. My muscles are loose, my mind quiet, but as he rinses the suds away another sensation starts to build.
Heat flickers, more raw than the earlier slow build. A spark in my belly grows. Heat simmers in my veins and a restless ache has me shifting in the cooling bathwater. My sweet honeysuckle grows musky with need that’s demanding and urgent.
By the time he's washed the conditioner from my hair, arousal is a living thing inside me. Clawing at my insides. Demanding to be sated. My breath comes faster, skin prickling. The ache between my thighs grows unbearable.
Soren's hands still when he works out the last knot. “Emma? What's wrong?”
“I’m... hot. Empty. Like I need...” I can't finish, can't put words to this all-consuming want. I squirm against the insistent throb of my core.
Realization dawns in his eyes. “You’re having another heat spike.”
Panic claws through the haze of need. Heat means vulnerability, pain; means being used in the worst ways. Everything to fear. Nothing to want.
The last time I ended up in the pool.
Now there's a beach outside, and the waves might really wash me away.