38. Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Emma
T he next day passes in a flurry of activity, contingency plans layered over even more contingency plans until my head spins.
I linger quietly nearby as my alphas strategize.
Their determination is unwavering, but each moment’s calculation presses tension deeper into our bones.
Through it all, Asher’s bond hums steadily in my chest, delicious and comforting, but I find myself craving more.
I ache for Soren and Phoenix’s claims, longing to belong just as fiercely and completely to them both as I do to Asher.
But between planning, fear, and endless tasks, the time hasn't been right.
Anxiety sharpens its claws, driven higher by frustrating heat spikes that have reappeared. I had one yesterday, sharp and sudden, and though their careful touch had soothed me, my full heat never arrived. I feel like a walking time bomb, tension winding tighter inside me by the minute.
As the afternoon wears on, Asher and Phoenix head out to restock our groceries. While they’re gone, Soren offers a distraction, suggesting we play an online game.
It’s fun and passes the hours but as the game winds down, curiosity nudges forward the question I’ve wondered about for days. “How did you become so incredibly good at all this technology, Soren?”
A smile lifts the corners of Soren’s mouth, softening the intensity from moments earlier. He runs a thoughtful hand over the back of his neck, his gaze drifting back through memories.
“I was a typical kid at first. Introverted. Quiet. Video games became my escape—somewhere I had control. Eventually just playing wasn’t enough.
Games turned into mechanics. Mechanics evolved into code, and soon, I dove headfirst into learning how technology really worked.
” He pauses, eyes warm, distant. “By college, tech was my calling. It fit. Coding became my life.”
I lean closer, hypnotized by his quiet voice and calm presence. My shoulder brushes his as I shift forward to better see the screen. The scent of crisp sandalwood surrounds me, sweet and grounding. Perfect.
Home.
“Then what happened?” His quiet sincerity draws me into his memories more deeply than I expected. “How exactly did you meet Asher at the Academy?”
He tilts his head thoughtfully, recalling.
“By university, I knew I could do more than just code from behind a screen. I wanted action, a way to use my skills to make a genuine difference. Signing up for the police academy seemed logical. Tech skills combined with active police work drew me in. What better way to put it all together?”
Soren pauses, something intense flashing across his face. “I recognized Asher as my bond brother instantly the first day I attended.”
I study him. “What exactly does it feel like? ”
Soren searches for the perfect words. “It’s like clarity.
Like pieces falling into place. We understand immediately we're stronger together. That independently we’re capable, but united we become untouchable.
” He pauses, his warm hazel eyes focusing on me.
“But it's still nothing compared to meeting our omega. Meeting you is entirely different.”
My breath catches as his gaze turns softer, warmer, heat slowly blooming in his gaze. “Tell me. What does it feel like to meet your omega?”
“You mean, when we met you, because you’re the only omega for us, Butterfly,” he says.
I nod. Not stifling the shiver that runs through me.
“Meeting packmates is clear, logical. Easy to understand.
But I wasn't prepared at all to meet you. None of us were. Your scent—” His voice falters, his gaze dropping to my lips.
“Emma, your scent calls out to us. For me, you smell of comfort and clarity.
You smell like home, like peace, something precious to protect, to cherish.
Your scent reaches into places I didn't know existed inside me. It lights me up from within.”
My pulse leaps as his eyes meet mine again, quietly intense.
“With Asher and Phoenix, we connected as companions, as trusted brothers, but meeting you, our omega, knocked down every wall. You touched our hearts. Your connection is raw, fierce, beyond explanation or logic. Like a flame lighting the darkness we didn’t even realize existed. ”
His words strike straight into me, warmth swelling tight and sweet in my chest. Understanding and tenderness whisper between us, louder and more profound than any words. He said it so well he could have been speaking from my soul.
My heart quickens as I lean even closer, lips parting to whisper softly, openly, “That’s exactly how it feels to find you.”
His breath catches when my lips brush his ear, his musk spiking. The screen is forgotten as Soren turns toward me with his focused intensity that makes my pulse stutter. When his hand rises to cradle my jaw, his thumb tracing the line of my bottom lip, I see the question in his gaze.
I answer by closing the distance between us .
The first kiss is soft. A brush of lips, a shared breath, a silent yes, Gods, please. But when I skate my fingers over his hair, tugging the short ends just enough to make him groan, the restraint between us shatters.
His mouth moves over mine with hungry focus, his tongue sweeping in to taste me as his arms band around my waist, lifting me off my chair at the kitchen table and onto the island counter with one smooth motion.
The cold granite beneath me contrasts deliciously with the heat of his body pressing close, his strong thighs slotting between mine.
“Butterfly. Emma ,” he rasps against my lips, his voice deeper than I've ever heard it.
His hands slide down to grip my thighs, squeezing before dragging me flush against him.
The hard ridge of his cock presses against my core, separated only by thin layers of fabric.
Slick coats my thighs, the sweetness of my honeysuckle flooding the kitchen.
“Feel what you do to me?” Soren murmurs, rolling his hips in a slow grind that makes us both gasp. His nose trails along my throat, inhaling deeply before he nips at my bonding gland. “Gods, you smell perfect, Omega.”
I open my thighs wider, a silent invitation, a plea, wanting to feel him right there, where I ache and throb and clench around nothing. Where my slick has already soaked through my panties, the fabric clinging to me like a second skin.
“Tell me what you need,” he demands, though his voice shakes. The musky scent of dark amber and coffee floods my senses as his fingers slip lower. “Your words, Omega.”
“You,” I gasp, arching into his touch. “All of you. Your claim. Your knot.”
I want fucking everything right here right now.
Something in his expression shifts. Darkens. His pupils swallow the warm brown of his irises entirely as his grip tightens. “You're sure?”
A whine slips from me. I bare my throat in the ultimate act of trust for an omega. “Make me yours. Please, Alpha.”
The growl that tears from Soren's chest is pure alpha. His scent rises, potent, hot, mine .
His hands slide down, fingers hooking into the waistband of my leggings, his knuckles grazing the sensitive skin of my hips as he peels both leggings and underwear down and off my body.
The cool air kisses my exposed flesh, but it’s nothing compared to the heat of his touch when his fingertips finally— finally —brush through the dampness there.
“Soren—” My voice fractures, my back arching off the counter as his fingers glide through my slick, gathering the evidence of my need. “Please—”
His fingers paint wet heat across my trembling skin before two thick digits sink into me with one smooth, relentless thrust. The stretch is immediate— perfect —the rough pads of his fingertips pressing against that sweet spot inside that makes my vision blur.
“Oh gods!” I choke out, my head tilting back as he curls those talented fingers.
Soren's mouth crashes onto mine, swallowing my moans as his thumb finds my clit, circling with just enough pressure to make my thighs clamp around his wrist.
“Breathe,” he orders against my lips, his breath ragged.
Hot puffs of air mingle with mine as his thrusts turn punishing.
He drags his fingers out of me before plunging back inside me again.
He flicks my clit with his thumb and snags my bottom lip between his teeth.
My hips roll desperately against his hand.
It's too much.
Not enough.
“I can't…Alpha…Soren…” The warning spills from me half-formed, but he increases the pace just as my body locks around him.
My climax destroys me without mercy, my back arching off the counter as my inner walls flutter around his fingers, slick gushing over his knuckles.
He withdraws from me, glistening fingers hovering between us as he studies my wrecked expression.
“That's just the first,” he murmurs, and before I can process the threat—the promise—he's sinking to his knees. His long fingers wrap around my thighs, drawing my legs over his shoulders and he positions me on the edge of the bench and brings my soaking center to his face.
His breath scorches my still-quivering flesh. “Look at you, Omega,” he growls, nosing through my folds, inhaling deeply. “Dripping for me. Fuck.”
The first lick is a revelation—broad and flat, dragging through my soaked slit from entrance to clit in one filthy stroke. My hips jerk, but his free hand clamps down on my stomach, holding me still as he licks into me like a man starved, groaning.
He devours me.
His tongue flicks at my swollen clit before sucking it hard between his lips, his stubble scratching deliciously at my inner thighs.
Every nerve ending ignites, pleasure coiling low in my belly again—too soon, too intense—but he doesn't relent.
Not when my legs tremble. Not when my screams echo off the tile.