26. Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Six
Emma
S oren cradles my face in gentle hands. “It's okay. This won’t be like the other time. I won't let this hurt you, Emma. Not even your own body.”
His promise wraps around me like a balm, easing the edges of my fear. This is Soren, who stopped when I asked, who gave me pleasure without taking any for himself, who looks at me like I'm something precious.
Maybe heat with him—with them—doesn't have to be something to dread.
Maybe it can be something to savor.
The thought sends another rush of molten need through my veins, and I arch against him with a whimper. “Please,” I gasp, fingers digging into his forearms. “I need... Soren, please...”
His eyes darken, alpha instincts rising to meet my omega's call. “I've got you,” he rumbles, lifting me from the cooling water. “Let's get you dry. Then I'll take care of you, I promise.”
Soren wraps a soft towel around my dripping form, the fabric feeling rough against my hypersensitive skin.
He starts to dry me, but a sudden cramp tears through my abdomen, making me double over with a gasp.
The heat is overwhelming, all-consuming.
Even the light touch of the towel is almost unbearable.
“I can't... it's too much. Please, I need...”
Understanding flashes in his beautiful eyes, followed by a determined set to his jaw. He lifts me effortlessly, setting me on the cool marble of the bathroom counter. The chill against my heated skin feels so good.
“I've got you,” he soothes, hands running up and down my thighs. “My fingers helped before, but my mouth... that might be even better.” His gaze meets mine, seeking permission even as his scent spikes with desire. “Can I help you with my mouth, Emma?”
The thought of his lips, his tongue, on my most intimate place sends a bolt of pure want straight to my core. Yes. Yes, that’s exactly what I need. His mouth. His tongue. His teeth.
My omega demands his cock and his knot too, but even as I open my lips to plead, the words lock in my throat. Soren spreads my legs gently, settling between them on his knees. “I've got you. Just let me take care of you.”
And I realize, with startling clarity, that I trust him to do just that. To help me, to soothe me, to guide me through this fire without letting it consume me.
Soren's hands slide up my thighs, settling between them like he belongs there, his broad shoulders nudging my knees further apart. His breath ghosts over my heated flesh, making me twitch with anticipation.
His gaze drops to the apex of my thighs, where slick glistens sticky and clean on my skin. The scent of my arousal, honeysuckle and omega need blooms between us. His nostrils flare as he inhales deeply, pupils dilating until only a thin ring of hazel remains.
“You're breathtaking,” he murmurs, reverence in every syllable .
A whine corkscrews out of me. His words, low and rough with desire, make the ache between my thighs sharpen to a keen edge.
He licks his lips, as his gaze rises to lock with mine. “I want to worship you, Emma. Want to taste every inch of your skin, learn every secret place that makes you sigh and moan.”
“Please,” I whisper, the word falling from my lips like an offering.
He leans forward, his fingers circling my thighs, my body thrumming with anticipation. I’m open to him now. Completely bared, offering that most private part of myself.
When his mouth finds my center, I lose the ability to think. My eyelids flutter shut and my head falls back against the mirror. His tongue is hot velvet against my folds, lapping and stroking. He explores me thoroughly, tasting, testing, finding every spot that makes me writhe and moan.
As he focuses on my clit, alternating between broad strokes and targeted flicks, the coil in my belly winds tighter. My hands find his hair, fingers tangling in the short strands as I urge him closer. He responds with a groan that vibrates through my core, making my toes curl.
“Soren,” I pant, hips rocking against his face as the pressure builds. “I'm close...”
He seals his lips around my clit and sucks. The direct stimulation sends lightning bolts of pleasure shooting through my core, making me arch off the counter. At the same time, he slides two fingers into my dripping channel, curling them to stroke that sensitive spot inside.
He pumps his fingers in time with the flicks of his tongue, the dual sensations rapidly pushing me toward the edge.
As the pressure builds, my thighs tremble around his head.
I'm vaguely aware of the sounds I'm making, breathy moans and gasps that echo off the bathroom tiles.
My fingers are a death grip in his hair and I grind against his face.
“I'm... I'm going to...” I can barely form words.
He hums against me in encouragement, the vibrations sending me flying over the precipice.
My orgasm crashes over me, starting at my core and radiating out to every nerve ending.
I cry out his name as I pulse around his fingers and mouth, wave after wave of intense pleasure making my vision go white at the edges.
Through it all, Soren continues to suckle and tease, prolonging my peak until it borders on too much. He licks me in soothing strokes as I force my fingers to unclench. He works me through aftershocks and murmurs praise.
When the last tremors fade, he presses a kiss to my inner thigh. The gesture is so intimate, so reverent, that it makes my heart clench. He rests his forehead against my knee for a moment, as if composing himself.
Then shame takes hold.
Icy fingers crash over me, dousing the warmth of my heat spike and my feel-good afterglow.
Fuck.
Fuck .
I’ve let an alpha touch me. Gave into my heat and enjoyed it .
I can’t stop the whip of words carving a path against my skull.
Slut.
Whore.
Only good for one thing.
I become rigid on the countertop, held captive by the scars of my past.
Soren curses, stands, and wraps his arms around me as my tears well and fall, streaking down my cheeks in hot trails. “Emma? Butterfly, what's wrong?”
I can't answer, sobs choking my words. I cover my face with my hands, trying to hide from him, from myself, from the mess of emotions twisting in my chest. I enjoyed what he did. Why am I reacting like this?
Fuck I’m a mess.
Then a sound reaches me through the ringing in my ears. A deep, rumbling purr emanates from Soren's chest. The vibrations travel through me where I'm pressed against him, soothing something raw and wounded deep inside.
Alpha purr. Catnip for omegas.
The Carmichaels never purred. Not once, in all the time they had me, did they offer this comfort .
I wasn’t worth the effort, but Soren…his purr is freely offered. It’s deep and steady, and is a balm to my battered soul.
Soren isn’t Pack Carmichel.
Phoenix isn’t Pack Carmichael.
Even Asher, who took what I didn’t offer, has deeply regretted his actions because the emotions he pumps through our bond can’t lie.
Have to stop comparing.
I relax in Soren’s arms, letting his purr and his scent do their job. My sobs quiet to hiccups and shuddering breaths.
His large palms cup my cheeks and guide my gaze to his. “Did I do something to upset you? Did I hurt you? Please tell me, Emma before I fuck this up more than I already have.”
I shake my head against his chest. “You…didn’t fuck anything up.” You only highlighted how fucked up Pack Carmichael is. How out of control I really am. You were just between my thighs and I’m a sobbing mess.
“You were... you were perfect. It's me. I'm all wrong. I shouldn't... I'm not supposed to...”
He pulls them from my face. His eyes find mine, bright with sincerity. “Emma, you have nothing to be ashamed of. You're an omega. I'm your scent-matched alpha. Helping you through your heat, giving you pleasure... it's an honor . One I'm grateful you allowed me.”
I search his face, looking for any sign of deception, any hint that this is a trick, but all I find is honest conviction.
“You... you really mean that.” It's not a question, but a realization.
“With every part of me,” he confirms, his thumb stroking away the last of my tears. “What we just shared... that was a gift. You trusting me, choosing me... I can't even begin to tell you how much that means.”
I shake my head, fresh tears threatening to fall. “I'm so fucked up. I can't... I can't even trust myself. My own reactions, my own desires... they’re wrong. Tainted . ”
Soren's arms tighten around me, his purr deepening as if to drown out my self-doubt. “No, Emma. You're not fucked up. You're healing. And it's not your fault that healing is hard. You suffered for years. Years , Emma. It’s going to take time.”
His voice takes on an edge, anger simmering beneath the surface, but I can tell it's not directed at me. It's for me.
“What the Carmichaels did to you... they destroyed something pure. They took your heat, your desires, and twisted them to suit their own sick games. They made you feel ashamed of your own needs, your own pleasure. That shame belongs to them, not you.”
His jaw clenches where it rests against my temple. “They're the ones who are fucked up, Butterfly. They're the ones who are wrong. Not you. Never you. ”
His words seep into me, filling the cracks in my soul like the melted gold Phoenix told me about.
I want to believe him. Want to believe I'm not broken beyond repair.
I want to be free from this. Free from them .
He tucks damp hair behind my ears. “It’s going to take time to unlearn their poison. Learning to trust your own body again... it's a process but we'll be with you every step of the way. For as long as it takes.”
We. The word wraps around me like a promise. A vow.
A future.
“What if...” I swallow hard, voicing the fear lurking in the back of my mind. “What if I'm never fully okay? What if I can't give you... everything you want?”
Soren pulls back slightly, cupping my face in his hands. His gaze is fierce, determined. “Then we'll take whatever you can give. We'll cherish every piece you're willing to share. Your pace, your boundaries... they're ours, too.”
The conviction in his voice, the steadiness of his touch... they feel like an anchor. A lifeline. A way back to solid ground.
“I don't know how to do this,” I admit, my voice small. “I don't know how to be... normal. ”
“Then we'll figure it out together,” he promises. “One day at a time. One moment at a time. You're not alone anymore, Emma. You'll never be alone again.”
His promise is ambrosia to my battered omega soul. All I have to do is believe. Trust.
And hope I’m not making the biggest mistake of my life.